Logan's POV
Blood stains the grass.
It drips from the black wolf's maw, thick and hot. Steam curls upward in lazy tendrils. The ox makes a strangled sound and kicks desperately but it's too late for it. Soon, it'll be dead.
Fenrir stiffens, a growl thrumming through my bones. His anger, his rage fills me like a thick, black and bitter cloud. His hurt consumes me, his irritation at the injustice becomes mine.
That was our kill.
Kieran's wolf licks the blood from his snout, slowly, like he's savoring the taste. Showing off. His eyes glint in the moonlight, almost smug as he tips his head back and howls.
It's a call.
A signal.
I recognize it immediately— soon hunters in the vicinity will gather. They'll come to help him haul the kill back to the clearing. They'll praise him. Cheer him. Honor him.
I'm supposed to help with them.
But I don't.
Fenrir slinks back into the shadows instead, eyes locked on the kill that should've been ours.
He growls, deep and endless. I don't calm him. There's no point to it.
He stole it.
We had the Ox. It was right there. The angle, the wind, the scent—perfect.
Perfect.
I was going to make the killing blow, to drag it back to Finnian, to make Oliver proud, to show every wolf in Lykandor that the Goddess didn't make a mistake.
But now?
Now they'll all howl the name of that Beta.
I run. Not away. Not exactly. Just… out. Into the trees, through bramble and ash, deeper into the forest where the moon cuts silver slashes across the ground.
The pain in my chest isn't just anger—it's humiliation.
I'm better than him. Stronger, faster. So how could he have…
My wolf slows near a small clearing, panting hard. We let the silence press in.
Fenrir paces, his massive paws whispering against the leaves. The light here is cold and bright and merciless. The silver wash of the moon makes everything feel exposed—especially us.
'That thief,' he snarls. 'He made us look weak.'
I sit in the middle of the clearing, ears pinned back, tail twitching. I thought walking out of the field in front of an entire stadium full of people (and goddess knows how many watching at home) was embarrassing but this? This just takes the cake.
A nearby bush rustles and Fenrir immediately jumps to alertness. I growl. Don't tell me someone came after us.
The bushes rustle again and out of them pops a rabbit.
It hops into the clearing, pauses, and just… looks at me.
It's not afraid. It swipes at its whiskers and tilts its head. I am a predator, I could crush it with just my paw. And it just sits there. Staring.
As if taunting me. As if asking, 'Could you even catch me?'
The thought blooms uninvited in my mind, and it's so sharp, so precise, I almost snarl aloud.
Mocked. Mocked by prey.
Fenrir's rage multiplies. I feel it burn in my throat like bile.
'I'll make that thief pay,' I growl, and my own thoughts surprises me. It sounds more beast than man.
But it's not just Fenrir thinking that.
I want to make him pay.
I lunge forward, tearing through brush and soil, bolting back toward the Big House. Trees blur past. My paws barely touch the earth.
I'm not weak.
I'm not unworthy.
This is all—
A voice cuts through the trees. Loud. Triumphant.
"Kaiser of Solivern has honored his people with this kill!" Casper's voice echoes through the crowd.
Kaiser. Wolf to Doctor Kieran Saleh. That's the name of the asshole that humiliated us.
'It's all Kaiser's fault.'
'He stole my kill.'
I break into the clearing like a storm.
Multiple heads turn in my direction but I only have eyes for one wolf. The one called Kaiser.
He's multiple paces in front of me, dragging the Ox across the grass. Blood pools behind him, his trail of victory staining the earth in his wake.
Finnian stands at the edge of the crowd. Oliver hides behind her hazel fur, tiny hands tangled in her furry legs.
Kaiser drops the body at her feet and nudges it toward her.
She approaches slowly. Carefully. Then, even more delicately, she licks the side of his face.
It's soft. Gentle.
Grateful.
Kaiser makes a content sound.
The world narrows to a pinpoint.
I can't hear the wind. Can't feel my breath.
Fenrir loses it. A roar tears from our chest so raw and brutal it shatters the crowd's cheer into silence.
If people weren't paying attention to us before, they are now.
Kaiser's eyes meet mine and, the second they do, I attack.
I hit him like lightning. My jaws snap, teeth grazing his shoulder before he stumbles backward. He's smaller, lighter, but fast.
He recovers in a heartbeat and snarls, baring his teeth.
The crowd surges back, clearing a ring around us.
Finnian's bark cuts through the chaos, but it sounds miles away.
Fenrir doesn't listen.
I don't listen.
I want to kill him.
I want him gone.
This is for stealing my kill. For licking the blood that should've been mine. For taking my mate.
He circles left. I circle right. Our bodies mirror each other.
The crowd screams and howls and yips. No one tries to stop me, not like anyone can. And the elders seem to recognise that because the next voice I hear is Ulfr's.
"The goddess blesses this melee that we feast and hunt and fight," he declares. "Kaiser, Fenrir rejects your kill. Fenrir, you have posed a challenge to this wolf. Kaiser, do you accept?"
Kaiser drops into a battle stance, his gaze locked on mine, his fangs visible with every vicious snarl.
He accepts the challenge.
Good.
Ulfr's voice rises like a spotlight in the dim, "The challenge is recognised. The weaker wolf shall submit. Fight!"
I rush at him with the force of a tidal wave.
We slam into each other like colliding storms.
Fangs flash. Fur flies. Snarls rip through the clearing loud enough to make even the elders flinch. I drive into him with the full force of my weight, claws tearing at his flank. He twists, agile despite the power behind my attack, and rakes his teeth across my shoulder.
Pain flares—sharp, brief. But Fenrir doesn't flinch. Neither do I.
We spin apart and launch again.
He goes low—I go lower. We collide mid-air, crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fury. I try to pin him. He bucks beneath me. He's fast. Wounded, but fast. And stubborn.
So fucking stubborn.
I sink my teeth into his scruff, dragging him down, growling like thunder, but he rolls, catches me off balance, and clamps his jaws on my ribs.
I snarl, slam a paw across his face. He releases me, blood flying from his muzzle, and I pounce—this time, pinning him fully.
Chest to chest. My weight pressing down on his. My breath ragged, his worse.
He writhes, claws digging for purchase. He lands a swipe across my side that stings like hell, but he's weakening. I feel it.
He's losing.
I grip his throat—not piercing skin, not yet. Just enough to remind him what comes next.
"Submit," I snarl.
But he doesn't.
He meets my gaze—bloodied, broken—and bares his teeth.
Defiant.
He's not bluffing. He would rather die than yield to me in front of Finnian. In front of Oliver. In front of Noah.
And that? That makes Fenrir snap.
'He dares?'
He snarls like a demon, and I am overwhelmed by the feeling to prove that he is the weaker wolf.
He had his chance to back away and he did not.
'If he will not submit,' Fenrir snarls, 'he will die.'
I rear back to strike—
"Guy!"
The voice is small.
But it splits through everything like lightning on dry earth.
I freeze.
Fenrir stumbles backwards, Off Kaiser. His snarl falters.
Oliver stands at the edge of the circle, his fingers clenched around his T-shirt, struggling to pull himself out of his mothers grasp. Finnian's teeth grip the edge of his shirt, like she caught him just before he could fully get away.
Now he's staring at me.
And he's afraid.
"Guy," he says again, softer now.
That word.
Guy.
Because I'm not just anyone, according to his parent. Just some guy. Just some stranger.
And he's trusted me anyway. Enough to keep him company and clean the wound on his knee, enough to slide his face in Noah's shirt while I took down three rogues, enough to fall asleep while I made something for his Papa to eat.
Now he's flinching.
From me.
Kaiser is still bleeding on the ground. He doesn't move. Doesn't gloat. Just breathes, slow and steady. I might have broken a few ribs.
Oliver wriggles out of Finnian's grasp and bolts toward him.
"Guy, stop!"
I shift.
Bones crack. My fur peels back. I stumble to my knees, tired and heaving, hands coated in blood.
"I didn't mean to—" I say. "I wasn't supposed to—"
Finnian moves past me without a glance. Her limbs shift mid-stride, fur melting into skin and clothes.
Noah stands in front of Kaiser and our son, breathing hard. He kneels beside them, gently touching the matted fur around Kaiser's wounds, cradling his jaw. He touches their foreheads together. They nuzzle.
Then Noah turns to me.
Eyes like fine cut axinite.
Eyes that, each time they turn to me, they only get angrier and angrier.
He walks up to me with slow purposeful steps. Not much scares an Alpha. But an angry mate? And angry Noah? He terrifies me.
"Noah I— I didn't mean—"
He slaps me.
The sound rings across the clearing, echoes through the house. Heck, I'm sure the entire damn Eastvale heard it, human and non-human alike.
His hand lingers in the air a moment longer than necessary, then drops to his side.
"You should have stayed gone," he says.
There's no fire in his voice. No scream. Just that cold, terrible truth.
He turns.
Picks up Oliver.
Kaiser, still unsteady, shifts slowly, limping on three legs.
Noah helps Kieran up. Presses his shoulder beneath his arm.
They leave the clearing together, vanishing into the trees.
I stand there, ashamed and bleeding.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
But the only person I want to hear it is gone.