Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Yield,” Solomon called.
Monty’s eyes burned. Pride fought survival for a long second. Then Monty slapped the ground once. Hard. The sound was dull in the snow, but it carried anyway.
Solomon raised a hand. “Winner.”
Caidrik stood slowly. His chest heaved. The cold rushed in the second his body stopped moving. He leaned down and jerked Monty to stand. “You okay?”
“Yeah. That was fun.” Monty clapped him on the back. “I gave it my best.”
All right. “Would you have killed me if you got the chance?” Caidrik asked, because that was the only way he was losing today.
“We’ll never know,” Monty said cheerfully, limping toward the bleachers.
A new challenger peeled off from the crowd before the murmurs even settled.
The second enforcer was leaner. Quick like a younger wolf who had never been injured. His name was Bobby Livingstone, and he bounced lightly on his feet as he walked onto the field, like this was fun.
Caidrik didn’t know him well, but he was too young to hurt. He’d have to be careful. While he wanted to win this thing, he wasn’t willing to kill a youngster.
“I ain’t gonna shift,” Bobby said. “I’m the best wrestler in town.”
Good to know. Caidrik prepared to hit the snow.
The whistle sounded.
Caidrik dispatched the kid in a few moves and was careful to help him back up. “Take care of those ribs.”
“No prob.” Bobby grinned, holding his ribs. “I’d like another chance someday.”
Yeah, if Caidrik survived. He went through five more challengers, slowing a bit each time. Then ten. He got to number fifteen and was seeing double. The pack members were loudly, actively cheering him on now. He took energy from them, but it wasn’t enough. So he turned to the bleachers, looking for her.
On the bleachers, the pack was a mass of dark shapes. Coats. Hats. Scarves. A few faces stood out. Bussy’s posture. Margaret’s tight hands. And Nadia, bundled between them. Caidrik didn’t let himself study her. He just let the sight of her settle into him like a promise. One he’d given her. To fucking survive.
Solomon’s voice carried over the field again. “Next challenger.”
Caidrik rolled his shoulders, ignoring the ache in his ribs. He flexed his hands again. His knuckles were already swelling, the skin splitting in thin lines. Blood warmed as it flowed from him and then cooled in the air. The winds didn’t care.
He set his feet.
He stayed human.
And waited for whoever came next.
Nadia had stopped counting somewhere around the fourteenth challenger. Her body reacted each time Caidrik jerked from pain.
By the twenty-fifth challenger, her hands were numb from gripping the blanket. Her throat hurt from taking shallow and panicked breaths. Snow clung to her lashes and melted down her cheeks, mixing with tears she hadn’t noticed falling. The field below looked chewed up as if it were getting as bruised as her mate.
Caidrik stood near the center and bent slightly at the waist to spit blood onto the snow. He braced his hands on his knees. Blood streaked down his ribs and dripped from his knuckles. One eye was already swelling shut. His chest rose and fell hard, and it looked like he might be struggling to breathe. Bruises bloomed across him in every shade of ugly, purples and yellows layered over one another. He looked held together by sheer will.
He’d survived all twenty-five fights. Hell. He’d won them all.
The pack rooted loudly for him now. The bleachers shook with noise as most of the wolves had jumped to their feet. They shouted his name, encouraging him. Knowing he wanted to lead and protect them all.
Nadia barely heard them.
She watched him straighten and force himself to stand fully again. The wet snow whipped around him and stuck to the blood across his torso and neck. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and left a smear of red across his cheek. He didn’t look up at the stands. He didn’t look at her. He just waited.
The noise shifted.
It wasn’t cheering anymore. It was anticipation.
A figure stepped out from the far side of the field.
Bulwark.
He was shirtless as well with unmarked skin. Not a cut or a bruise on him. He smiled, moving toward Caidrik, steam flowing off his heated body.
Nadia’s stomach dropped.
Bussy’s arm came around her without a word. Margaret leaned in on the other side. Nadia didn’t look away from the field. If she did, she was afraid she wouldn’t look back.
Bulwark stopped a few yards from Caidrik. “I’m surprised you lasted this long, Brother.”
“You have always been such a complete dick,” Caidrik muttered. “Don’t know why.”
Bulwark rolled his shoulders. “This pack is mine. I’ll give you one chance to walk away. Leave the Nightsom heir and slink away.”
“She’s mine,” Caidrik snarled, his mouth dripping blood.
The whistle blew.
Bulwark moved in a burst of power, going straight in. He slammed his fist into Caidrik’s already-bruised ribs. The sound was awful. A dull, wet crack that made Nadia gasp.