There's something utterly absurd about watching two grown, immortal men snarl at each other across a ceremonial pit while a council of elderly werewolves reads from a scroll longer than my patience.
"By ancient decree, all Alpha duels must be witnessed, officiated, and bound to the Pact of Blood," droned Elder Thorne.
"And boring," muttered Talia beside me. "Don't forget boring."
The duel was set for three nights from now, under the full moon. Because apparently, even in blood feuds, werewolves respected cosmic aesthetics.
Ruvan stood across the training grounds, arms crossed, cloak fluttering with dramatic defiance like he'd been waiting for the camera pan in a movie. Kaelen, meanwhile, looked like a wildfire in human form—coiled, crackling, and entirely too smug for someone who might lose a kidney.
And me?
I was standing between them.
Literally and metaphorically.
"They're going to tear each other apart," I said.
"Maybe that's what they want," Talia replied, peeling an apple with her dagger like this was dinner theater.
"Kaelen doesn't want this. He wants control."
"And Ruvan?"
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure what Ruvan wanted.
Not exactly.
-
Later that night, I found him in the ruins again.
This time, he was practicing—bare-chested, sweat glistening on his skin, muscles flexing with every controlled strike of his blade. The moonlight traced the long scar across his ribs like a silver ribbon, and I hated how hard it was not to stare.
"You're going to wear yourself out," I said, leaning against a crumbled pillar.
"I'd rather bleed in practice than in front of him."
"You're stronger than Kaelen."
"Not in the eyes of the Pack."
That part was true.
Kaelen had always been their golden son. Heir. Alpha-to-be. The one who won every trial, broke every record, and kissed every Elder's ass with diplomatic flair.
Ruvan was the opposite.
Born second. Marked rogue by choice, not failure. The kind of strength that didn't beg for power, only used it when needed. That made him dangerous.
Which is probably why I couldn't stop thinking about him.
"You really plan to kill him?" I asked softly.
"If he forces it," Ruvan replied. "But that's not what I want."
"What do you want?"
He didn't look at me when he answered.
"You."
That was the first time I actually flinched.
Not because I didn't want it.
But because it mattered.
"You barely know me," I whispered.
"I know what he did. And I know the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."
"That doesn't mean I'm yours."
"No. But you're not his anymore either. And that means you get to choose."
Funny thing about freedom: when you've been denied it long enough, even the idea of it feels terrifying.
-
The next day, the cheating started.
Surprise, surprise.
Kaelen sent three of his loyal mutts—cloaked in scent-nullifiers—to ambush Ruvan during a run through the training woods.
And Ruvan?
He beat them unconscious and tied them to a tree with their own tunics.
"You call that an ambush?" he said, grinning like the devil when the pack guards arrived.
"Might want to pick stronger friends."
But Kaelen wasn't stupid.
He knew better than to risk disqualification directly.
So he turned his attention elsewhere.
Me.
At dusk, I found a gift on my bed.
A delicate silver bracelet. Intricate. Gorgeous. Familiar.
My mother's.
She'd died when I was fifteen—an attack during a rogue uprising. That bracelet had been buried with her.
"What the hell…" I breathed, fingers trembling as I held it.
Then I found the note.
"Everything you've ever loved—I can take it back."
—K
I saw red.
Storming through the Pack Hall was reckless. Confronting Kaelen in front of half the Elders was suicidal.
I did it anyway.
"Where did you get this?" I shouted, slamming the bracelet down on his war table.
"Found it," he said smoothly. "Your past likes to leave trails."
"You dug up her grave?"
"I retrieved what was mine."
"She was never yours—"
"You are. Or did you forget?"
"I marked your brother, Kaelen. That bond broke the second I made my choice."
"Did it?" he said with a smile, stepping close enough that I smelled the shift beneath his skin. "Then why does it still burn?"
Because it did.
That was the cruel joke of it all.
The forced bond was still there. Not dominant. Not controlling. But present—like a stain I couldn't scrub out.
Even Ruvan had noticed it.
"He's in your blood," he'd said once. "But not your heart."
I turned away from Kaelen before I could act on the urge to rip his throat out.
-
That night, I didn't go to Ruvan.
I couldn't.
Instead, I walked the perimeter of the compound until my feet hurt and my head screamed, trying to remember what it felt like to be mine again.
And I ended up in front of the Wishing Tree.
It wasn't real, of course. Just an old trunk with hollow branches, stuffed with legends about wishes made under a blue moon and spirits who'd grant freedom in exchange for secrets.
I whispered one anyway.
"Please… let me survive this. Let him survive this."
"That's a lot to ask from a tree," came a voice behind me.
Ruvan.
Barefoot. Cloaked in darkness. Smirking.
"How do you always find me?" I asked.
"You marked me. I'm cursed to care now."
I laughed.
It slipped out, unexpected and breathless.
He grinned.
"There it is," he said.
"What?"
"Your laugh. I've only heard it twice."
"Maybe you should make better jokes."
"Maybe you should let yourself be happy."
I looked at him.
Really looked.
And realized, painfully, I wanted that.
To be happy. Just for a moment.
So I kissed him again.
No fire this time. No rage or revenge.
Just warmth.
Soft.
Real.
Then I whispered something I hadn't told anyone since the day I was marked—
"I was going to run."
"When?"
"The day after Kaelen marked me. I had a bag packed. I'd memorized every back trail to the borderlands. But then…"
"He forced it."
I nodded.
He touched my cheek, gentle.
"You never got to choose."
"Until now."
We didn't go any further that night.
Didn't need to.
For once, silence was enough.
The next morning, the Elders summoned me.
Again.
"We've reviewed the Pact," Thorne announced. "And there is a clause—ancient, but binding."
"What clause?"
"If the female marked by both challengers chooses to forfeit them both, the duel is dissolved."
I blinked.
"Wait. What?"
"You have three days to decide. If you choose neither, they both lose their claim."
"And if I refuse that option?"
"Then the duel proceeds. And one dies."
They were offering me a way out.
One that cost both men everything.
I walked out of the chamber and found Ruvan waiting just beyond the arch.
"Let me guess," he said. "They gave you the out."
"How did you—"
"Because I know them. And I know you."
"I could end this. Right now."
"You could."
"But that would mean—"
"Neither of us gets what we want."
He stepped closer.
"What do you want, Eira?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
Because I didn't know anymore.
Freedom? Revenge? Power? Peace?
Or something else entirely?
I didn't answer him.
Because I didn't have the answer.
Not yet.