The Red Rocks lifted their heads in a howl followed by the hollers and growls of the Silver Springs, their packs uniting once again. The air reverberated with the power of the individuals standing before her, people she was proud to call her pack and allies and a man she was proud to call her mate.
As the sound began to die down, Sierra waved toward Beaver Tavern, gathering everyone’s attention. “Those injured, gather in front of the tavern. Ella, Gene, and anyone else with training in first aid, join them. To the rest of you, we’ve got to make sure the fire’s entirely stifled before we rest up for the morning. Beaver Tavern might’ve taken a beating, but we haven’t been snuffed out. She’ll rise up better than ever in no time at all.”
Seamus’s corpse lay inside, and that alone would make this a long, grueling night, but Sierra led the way to her tavern, determination settling in her veins. Time to get to work.
Chapter Twenty
Thunderstorms didn’t hold a candle to the intensity that charged the clearing.
The Tribe members glanced between the two groups standing on opposite sides with mild interest. Not like they interfered, though—unless Dax and Sierra brought an official report regarding last night to them, they wouldn’t get involved. And no way in hell would Dax stretch this limbo out longer than necessary. He’d settle this dispute with Drew on the testing grounds here and now.
Dax paced along the worn earth he’d spilled blood on yesterday. Many of the cowards who’d attacked last night hadn’t dared to show their faces today, which meant Drew’s side consisted of a handful of scowling folks Dax had once considered pack. Some wounds didn’t heal easily. Between the pipe bomb attacks and shooting up Beaver Tavern last night, they’d cemented themselves in enemy territory from here on out.
Meanwhile, the attack last night had rallied everyone under his and Sierra’s watch, so the force he had at his back to support him today was inspiring. These fighters were resilient, resourceful, and loyal—traits he hoped to emulate and honor on this testing ground.
A rumble came from the black Caddy pulling into the parking lot. Dax stopped pacing and sucked in a deep breath as he straightened to greet his opponent. Drew slipped out of his car, aviators on and his wrinkle-free tee begging for some bloodstains. Dax’s brother tugged off the sunglasses and squinted as he tossed them back into his car before sauntering over. Dax didn’t miss how he looped around, veering as far as possible from the Red Rock pack and Dax’s supporters.
Several growls lit the air at Drew’s appearance, the air heating more fiercely than the sun could swing. The slight hunch in his brother’s shoulders as he jogged over was telltale. He knew he’d done them wrong last night. The silver hue of the clouds rolling in stained the area with shadows, but already the sticky humidity clung to Dax’s skin like paint.
Even amid the loam of the earth and the tingle of fresh greenery, Dax caught the spice of Sierra’s scent from the crowd. She’d been in his bed when he got up at a more reasonable time than her preference of dawn, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to wake up. With his one-nighters he’d been out the door before they ever blinked twice in the morning. But back then, he’d been insecure, directionless. Now he knew where he was meant to be. Win or lose, he’d face Drew today with uncompromised honor.
Drew stepped into the clearing, drawing the rest of the crowd’s attention. The sight of his brother on this familiar territory smacked Dax with déjà vu. Six months ago, he’d stepped into this ring as a nobody within the pack—few folks thought he stood a chance against his father’s favorite. Yet that day had marked the beginning of a new chapter.
The death of his father had been the lifting of a veil. Dax wouldn’t spin his wheels fighting authority—at last he had a real opportunity for change, a chance to take the Silver Springs pack in a better direction.
His brother scowled, the ugly gash down his cheek marring those picture-perfect features: the broad jaw; wide, easy smile; and arched nose Dax had never inherited from their father. Except now he understood the reason why. Navi stepped past the other Tribe members, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed while glancing between the two of them as if she watched a ping-pong match. She sucked in a breath and sauntered toward them, her exaggerated steps like some old cowboy in a Western heading to a duel.
Gravity descended between him and Drew as if with the onset of a storm. Dax straightened his stance, sliding his thumbs through his belt loops.
“You must be shitting yourself right now,” Dax called out, drawing his brother’s attention. “Didn’t think I’d make it this far, did you? I’m a stubborn bastard—too stubborn to back away from this fight. Maybe I did inherit some Williams traits after all.”
Drew snorted, the derisive sound causing his skin to prickle with irritation. “You’re not a Williams, but you are a bastard. Why Dad wasted his time raising an ungrateful wretch who wasn’t his blood is beyond me. Promises to our whore mother only stretch so far.”
Dax rocked back and forth where he stood, not batting an eye. Based on the way Drew’s lips pursed, he waited for some shock and awe, but Dax had spread the word to his pack once he found out. And as for those who sided with Drew—well, they were assholes following a dead guy who didn’t deserve their loyalty.
“What a relief,” he called. “To find out I wasn’t related to that monster. Dad won’t save you now though. You’re going to pay for your crimes, not only against our pack, but against the Red Rocks. And right here and now it’s you and me—no cheats, sneak attacks, or bombs.”
Navi’s lips twisted in a scowl at the statement, but what or whomever the Tribe investigated around town, they’d remained silent and evasive on the subject. “You two reached the final round, but since your fight as shifters for alpha was interrupted, you won’t be fighting as mountain lions but as humans. The winner will become alpha of the Silver Springs pack and preside over the contested territory. No weapons, no claws, and no fangs.”
Dax frowned. After all the fights in his lion form, he hadn’t expected that one. Not as if he’d grown rusty on hand-to-hand. Sierra left nothing to chance, and he had welcomed every opportunity to get hot and sweaty in their human forms. Drew scowled at the announcement, and those familiar blues flashed at him, flickering with fear. His brother rolled his shoulders, a fake smile on his lips. Dax would know, since that was where he’d learned the technique first.
Regret sliced him, a piercing ache in his chest as he met his brother’s gaze. Beneath all the ugliness marring their relationship, he couldn’t erase those early memories. Of roughhousing as cubs until Uncle Aiden had to split them apart and then laughing as they dove back in for more. Of following Drew through the secret paths in their woods because his big brother knew all the best spots to hide from the adults. Of the way Drew got him a birthday present every year, even if Dad “forgot.”
However, he also couldn’t dismiss his brother’s actions. Beyond breaking the Silver Springs pack in two, the pipe bombs and the attack last night had drawn a line in the sand past the point of forgiveness.
Dax glanced behind him, at the familiar faces in the crowd who’d arrived to support him. Kyle, Marcy and Rick, and even Ally-cat had managed to make it out, though she leaned on a pair of crutches. Finn and Raven stood side by side, stony-faced and resolute as they watched him from afar. And Sierra’s gaze remained level, her determination unshakeable, and her faith in him a power unto itself. She gave him a slight tilt of her head in acknowledgment. She believed in him, enough to rest justice for her pack on his shoulders.
He wouldn’t let her down.
“Fight until one of you doesn’t rise,” Navi called out, her tone a shade bored. The Tribe had witnessed dozens of these matches, including the ones this week. For those guys, this spelled the end of an annoyance. She lifted her hands. “Ready, and…go.”
The sudden declaration jolted Dax to action. His muscles tensed, and he dropped into a fighting stance, shifting side to side.
As the words left her
lips, Navi’s arms dropped, and she jogged off the arena to join the rest of the Tribe by the lawn chairs. Dax began circling the same way he would in lion form, the urge to stalk his prey one that remained. Except he’d had this fight a thousand times over with his brother. His father had taught them to ram ahead similar to the fighting style of Dominic Enrico. Dax didn’t often follow his father’s directions, but Drew did.
Despite the cowardly way his brother had attacked last night, his gaze sharpened, and his body buzzed with the alert aura of a fighter. Drew might be an asshole, but Dax had fought his brother enough to know he was a dangerous asshole. And today, after the violence his pack and the Red Rocks had suffered, he couldn’t afford to lose.
Drew circled in a similar fashion, but Dax didn’t take the bait to leap in half-cocked. Instead he waited, and he paced. His head buzzed with the adrenaline rushing through his veins, and his lion walked with him every step, as present as if he’d shifted. The air thickened enough to drink it down, and the faint stench of blood marred these grounds from the countless fights witnessed here throughout the years.
Drew’s right hand twitched.
In this fight, speed meant everything. Dax couldn’t take the defensive. His shoulder still throbbed from the other day, and if his brother applied pressure on the weak spot, he’d crumble.
Dax leaped ahead, racing toward his brother before he could get the jump on him. The breeze swept strands of his hair back as he snapped in with the precision of an arrow loosed from a bow. Drew’s fist whipped around, but Dax had seen the motion coming. He swerved around the swing, grabbing his brother’s arm and yanking him forward. Propelled by the motion, Drew staggered, making the mistake of showing his back.
Dax’s elbow slammed down on his spine with a crunch, the blow reverberating up his arm.
A groan flew from his brother’s lips, but the man darted ahead, rolling against the ground to slide out of the way. Drew kicked up clouds of dust with his movement, and Dax quickstepped to the side, avoiding the roiling grit.
Before his brother could rise, Dax ducked low, aiming a sweeping kick for the legs.
His boot thudded against Drew’s shin, but his brother clamped his hands around his ankle, tugging him farther. Dax followed the movement. Air whirred around him, and drops of sweat slithered down his back as the midday sun pounded down. He launched onto his brother with the ferocity of a lion, his claws begging to come out and play. With a crash, he collided against Drew, the full weight of him slamming into his brother’s side. Drew’s grip around his ankle loosened.
If his brother wanted relentless, that’s what he’d be.
Drew’s fist sliced an inch above his head, a near hit.
Dax didn’t back down. Instead he rammed his head forward, his thick-as-fuck skull slamming into the asshole’s ribcage. Bones creaked, but he didn’t know whose as he led with his right shoulder to slam Drew back. He thudded against his brother so hard the breath nearly flew from him, and Drew wavered, teetering back and forth as he tried to find his balance.
Couldn’t stop there.
Before Drew righted himself, Dax wove in with an elbow again, a forearm thrust that sent him tumbling.
The second Drew landed on his back, Dax struck. He leaped on top, pinning his brother down, leading with his arm across his chest and sinking in his weight to follow. Drew’s fist clipped his cheekbone with a resounding thud, and Dax bit back the tang of blood, sliding to the side to avoid the oncoming punch from the opposite side. His brother’s spit flew to smack against his cheek, but Dax shoved his weight down to keep the asshole pinned. Peripheral sounds turned into a distant buzz compared to the sharp intake of breath, the groan of muscles, and the crunch of bone.
Drew wanted an easy fight, but their father wasn’t here to hand him a leg up. Here, he had to face Dax in his full fury.
Here, he’d pay for the lives he’d stolen.
For Greg, whom Dax had found lying dead in his own home.
For Seamus, who’d been shot while defending his pack.
Drew’s knee dug into his stomach as he used the advantage to pivot. The tap to his chest distracted him long enough for his brother to roll out from under him. Before Dax could follow up, Drew rammed full force into his wounded shoulder. Pain thundered through him, the gash on his shoulder throbbing with newfound intensity. Bile rose in his throat. He bit back a curse and staggered out of Drew’s radius.
Desperation drove his brother though, and before Dax could whip his head up, Drew’s fist drilled into his chin. Dax’s head snapped back, the sound echoing through the clearing as his brain blanked for a heartbeat. Even as his balance shifted beneath him, he pivoted in loops rather than staggering as he circled out of Drew’s reach.
A cocky grin rolled onto his brother’s face as he approached, the skulking posture and the hunch of his shoulders brimming with confidence. Asshole had sussed out his weak spot, so that’d be his target from here on out. Wetness spread along Dax’s shoulder, blood leaking through the fabric of his shirt.
Fuck.
Drew’s knee shifted up, and Dax surged forward in response, ready to greet the blow. At the last second, he stopped mid-stride.
Left shoulder.
The fist came sailing in his direction right as the knee retreated.
Dax ducked.
His hands shot up, one wrapping around the asshole’s forearm. His other hand curled into a fist before it crashed against the side of Drew’s elbow. His brother let out a piercing howl, but Dax wasn’t done yet. With the joint destabilized, he tugged the forearm the opposite way.
The crunch echoed through the air as bones snapped.
Drew slammed his head into Dax’s already shredded shoulder before he collapsed to the ground, a low growl reverberating through his chest.
When the blow landed, Dax’s stomach revolted. Nausea rushed through him in a sickening sweep, enough to make him stagger and his surroundings swirl. The vertigo claiming him spelled bad news. If he didn’t end this soon, the pain would make him black out. He’d lose by proxy.
A loud howl came from behind him, one he’d recognize anywhere, sending goose bumps up his arms. The piercing sound sliced through the haze of pain in his mind until he reached the clarity he’d been searching for. She believed in him—for Sierra, for the Silver Spring pack, he would fight. He would win.
Drew pulled himself up to face him with his left shoulder slumped from his injured elbow.
All or nothing.
Dax’s jaw tensed as he clenched his hands into fists. Keeping both shoulders back so he didn’t give himself away, he launched toward Drew, closing the distance between them. Drew twisted to the right, shielding his injury. Dax didn’t have that luxury. Either he pulled this off or his brother would bring him to his knees.
The wind whistled past him, drying the sweat across his forehead, and his vision tunneled to the sight in front of him. To his brother’s defensive stance as Drew prepared to ram him head-on. Pristine clarity descended, the sort where the entire world slowed around him, where each second stretched and his even breaths cycled in his ear. Where the sun pulsed on him and he sucked in the thick air, drinking the humidity laden with the greenery of his home.
Dax sank into the purity of the moment, his walk across a razor blade.
He baited with his shoulder, and his brother jumped for it, his right arm soaring for the open wound.
An inch away, Dax pivoted around until he swung to Drew’s left side.
His fist snapped out, fast as a quick draw. And with Drew’s wounded elbow, Drew never stood a chance.
Dax’s knuckles slammed into his brother’s temple with force that reverberated up his arm. His brother’s head twisted to the side, drops of blood and spit flying through the air. Drew rocked back and forth on his feet for a half second.
Until he dropped like a stone.
Drew hit the ground with a smack, enough to draw gasps from the crowd. Dax crouched, ready to defend as he watched the still form
of his brother, the slight rise and fall of his back a sign the man continued to breathe. Tense seconds passed as sweat crawled down Dax’s cheek, tickling as it dripped to stain his shirt. His heart thundered in his ears, and his shoulders rose and fell with each harsh breath, sending another wave of pain radiating through him with every pull.
Navi’s footsteps drew his attention as she stepped onto the clearing, the crowd so silent each step echoed like rolling thunder. Dax glanced to Drew, who lay there unmoving, and he swallowed, his throat so dry it caught.
Navi stopped in the middle of the clearing, her direct gaze landing on him. “Dax Williams, I hereby declare you the winner. You are the rightful alpha of the Silver Springs pack.” Her eyes softened, and a gentle smile lit the fierce woman’s face. “Congratulations.”
As he turned to greet his pack, the thunder of their roars, howls, and cheers nearly knocked him off his feet.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sierra stepped to the cabin on the opposite side of the lake, a two-story beauty with a glossy wooden exterior that blended with the surrounding pines. Dax’s boots scuffed the ground as he approached beside her. His wounded shoulder had been cleaned and rebandaged, but the second he’d slipped away, he’d wanted to come here. The other members of the Silver Springs pack pulled into the sprawling parking lot, the screech of tires and rumble of trucks over gravel echoing through the air.
“I haven’t been back here since they drove me out,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders as he pressed up behind her. She leaned into him, basking in his cedar scent, one that dizzied her mind with memories of the way they’d crashed together yesterday. If she had her way, they’d be repeating that tango many, many times tonight.
Tribal Spirit: Forged Alliances Page 18
