Kael's POV - Two Days Later
The stench of blood and sweat hung thick in the air as I approached the Bloodfang arena. Hundreds of wolves had gathered for the tournament, their excitement a palpable thing that made my Primordial instincts snarl with anticipation.
I'd spent the past two days learning to suppress my hybrid form, forcing my body back into something resembling human. It wasn't perfect—my eyes still flickered amber when I lost focus, and my canines were slightly too long—but I'd wrapped myself in a hooded cloak and kept my head down.
Just another rogue looking to prove himself.
Just another desperate wolf hoping to claw his way up from nothing.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
"Fresh meat!" A scarred Beta at the registration table grinned up at me, revealing gaps where teeth used to be. "You here for the Death Match, rogue?"
"I am." I kept my voice low, gravel-rough. I'd practiced this new persona for two days. No trace of the educated Alpha heir. Just raw survival instinct.
"Name?"
"Ash." The word tasted like lies, but necessary ones.
The Beta scrawled something on a parchment. "Any pack affiliation?"
"No."
"Rank?"
I pulled aside my cloak just enough to show the Omega Mark burned into my chest.
The Beta's grin widened. "Oh, this is gonna be fun. The crowd loves watching Omegas get torn apart." He shoved a wooden token at me. "You're in the first bracket. Arena opens at sundown. Try not to die too quickly—the betting pools already favor you as the night's entertainment."
I took the token and moved into the crowd, every instinct screaming at me to rip that Beta's throat out for the casual dismissal. But I forced the rage down, channeling it into the cold, patient thing Raven had taught me.
Predators don't announce themselves. They strike when the prey isn't looking.
The arena was carved directly into a massive stone quarry, its walls towering thirty feet high. Torches lined the perimeter, casting dancing shadows across the sand-covered floor where dried bloodstains told stories of previous matches.
Hundreds of wolves packed the stands, their voices a cacophony of bets, insults, and bloodlust.
"WELCOME!" The voice boomed across the arena. Alpha Fenris of Bloodfang stood on the highest platform, his gray-streaked fur visible even in human form—a sign of age and waning power. "Tonight, we honor the old ways! Tonight, warriors prove their worth in blood and battle! Tonight—"
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Get on with it, old man!"
Laughter rippled through the stands.
Fenris's jaw tightened, but he gestured to the announcer beside him. "Let the Death Match begin."
The first fight was brutal and short. A young Beta against a rogue twice his size. The rogue won, tearing the Beta's throat out in under thirty seconds.
The crowd roared.
Second fight. Third. Fourth. Each one faster, more vicious than the last. The Bloodfang Pack clearly valued raw savagery over skill.
Good, I thought. That makes this easier.
"NEXT MATCH!" The announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "In the west corner, a rogue Omega who thinks he can fight above his station! And in the east corner, our own Gamma warrior, Brick!"
I stepped into the arena, keeping my hood up. Brick was massive—six-foot-five, built like his namesake, with arms that could snap a normal wolf's spine.
The crowd's laughter was deafening.
"An Omega? They let an Omega fight?"
"This'll be over in five seconds!"
"I got fifty silver on the Gamma!"
Brick grinned at me across the sand. "Nothing personal, runt. But I need the prize money, and you're my stepping stone."
I said nothing. Just lowered my hood.
Brick's grin faltered when he saw my eyes—amber, predatory, nothing like the submissive Omega gaze he'd expected.
"Fight!" the announcer screamed.
Brick shifted mid-charge, his wolf form bursting through his clothes—a massive gray beast with yellow eyes and foam-flecked jaws.
I didn't shift.
Didn't need to.
I sidestepped his lunge with inhuman speed, my hand shooting out to grab his throat mid-leap. My fingers—still mostly human—found his windpipe with surgical precision.
Then I squeezed.
The Primordial strength flooded through me, controlled, focused. Brick's eyes went wide with shock as he realized he couldn't break my grip. His paws scrabbled at my arm, claws tearing through my sleeve, drawing blood.
I didn't even flinch.
"You made a mistake," I said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. "You thought the Mark made me weak."
I slammed him into the ground so hard the impact cracked stone.
Brick didn't get up.
The arena fell silent.
Then, slowly, the crowd erupted.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
"Did you see the speed?"
"The strength!"
"He didn't even shift!"
I walked back to my corner without looking at the body. One down.
The next three fights went similarly. I didn't shift. Didn't unleash the hybrid form. Just used enough Primordial-enhanced strength and speed to brutalize my opponents while keeping my true nature hidden.
By the time I reached the semifinals, the crowd's mockery had turned to fascinated horror.
The betting pools had shifted dramatically in my favor.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice was hoarse from shouting. "We've reached the final four! In one corner, we have Ash, the Omega who fights like a demon! And in the other corner..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"...Zane the Exile!"
My heart stopped.
A figure stepped into the opposite side of the arena, and even from this distance, I recognized him. Taller than I remembered. Scarred, hardened by years of surviving as a rogue. But the eyes—those distinctive green eyes—were unmistakable.
Zane Corvin. My best friend from childhood. The wolf Marcus had framed for stealing from the pack armory, the wolf I'd watched get dragged away three years ago, sentenced to exile and presumed dead.
He was alive.
Zane's eyes locked onto mine across the sand. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, almost imperceptibly, he gave me the hand signal we'd developed as children—two fingers tapped against his wrist.
I know it's you.
My chest tightened. I returned the signal. I know you know.
"FIGHT!"
We both shifted.
But not into attack positions. We circled each other slowly, our wolves communicating in ways the crowd couldn't understand.
"Kael?" Zane's voice in my head was shocked. "They said you were dead. The whole pack is celebrating your—"
"I know." I kept circling. "Marcus. Elena. My father. I know everything."
"Then why are you here? Why risk—"
I showed him. Just for a second, I let the hybrid form ripple through my wolf—the oversized fangs, the elongated claws, the burning amber eyes.
Zane's wolf stumbled back in shock. "What the fuck are you?"
"Something they tried to bury." I forced the hybrid back down. "But we can't talk here. We need to put on a show. Make it look real."
Understanding flashed in Zane's eyes. "The final round?"
"Together."
We lunged at each other.
To the crowd, it looked like a vicious battle—two rogues tearing into each other with desperate ferocity. But every strike was calculated, every wound superficial. We'd trained together as children; we knew each other's fighting styles like breathing.
This was a dance, not a fight.
We crashed into the arena walls, rolled across the blood-stained sand, snapped at throats that were never quite within reach. The crowd was screaming, the betting pools in chaos.
Finally, after five minutes of "combat," we both collapsed on opposite sides of the arena, panting, bloodied, but very much alive.
"INCREDIBLE!" The announcer was practically frothing. "Both fighters advance to the final round! But first, they'll face our reigning champion—the Alpha himself!"
Wait, what?
Alpha Fenris descended from his platform, his aged wolf form still formidable despite the gray in his fur. "I've been watching, boys. You fight well. Too well for mere rogues." His eyes narrowed. "So here's the deal. You both fight me together. If you win, you can fight each other for the Alpha position. If you lose..."
He bared his fangs.
"...you die."
Zane and I exchanged glances. This wasn't part of the plan.
But maybe it was better.
"We accept," I said, my voice carrying across the arena.
Fenris smiled. "Good. BEGIN!"
He moved faster than his age suggested, a blur of gray fur and snapping jaws. His claws raked across Zane's shoulder, drawing blood, before spinning to deflect my counter-attack.
"He's stronger than he looks," Zane warned through our mental link.
"Then we stop holding back."
I let a fraction—just a fraction—of my Primordial power loose.
My next strike hit Fenris like a battering ram, sending him skidding across the sand. Before he could recover, Zane was there, his jaws clamping onto the Alpha's hind leg.
Fenris howled, thrashing, trying to shake Zane off. But I was already moving, my Primordial-enhanced speed turning me into a shadow. I appeared behind Fenris and wrapped my arms around his throat in a chokehold that would've killed a normal wolf instantly.
But Fenris was an Alpha. He had decades of experience, centuries of fighting instinct coded into his bones.
He slammed backward, crushing me against the arena wall. Once. Twice. Three times.
I held on.
"Zane, now!"
Zane released Fenris's leg and went for his throat. At the same moment, I shifted my grip, pulling the Alpha's head back, exposing his neck to Zane's fangs.
Time seemed to slow.
Fenris's eyes met mine—and in them, I saw not fear, but understanding. Maybe even relief.
"End it quickly," he said through the mental link, his voice tired. "I've ruled long enough."
Zane's fangs found his throat.
It was over in seconds.
The crowd went silent as Alpha Fenris's body hit the sand. Then, gradually, someone started to howl. Another joined. Then another.
Within moments, the entire arena was howling—not in mourning, but in recognition of the old way. The strong had defeated the weak. The old king had fallen.
New rulers had risen.
The announcer's voice was shaky. "By... by the laws of the Death Match, I declare—"
"I decline the Alpha position," Zane said loudly, shifting back to human form. He looked at me, respect clear in his eyes. "I challenge Ash for the right to rule."
The crowd roared with approval. This was what they'd paid to see.
But Zane's eyes told me a different story. "Take it. You need the pack. I'll be your Beta, like old times."
We faced each other one final time.
This fight lasted exactly ten seconds. I moved with Primordial speed, disarming Zane and pinning him to the ground before he could even fully engage.
He submitted immediately. "I yield to the new Alpha."
The announcer's voice cracked. "YOUR NEW ALPHA—ASH!"
The howling was deafening.
An hour later, I stood in what used to be Fenris's private chambers, Zane across from me, both of us finally alone.
"Kael Blackclaw," Zane said quietly. "Everyone thinks you're dead."
"Everyone should think I'm dead." I poured two glasses of whiskey from Fenris's collection. "Until I'm ready to make them regret killing me."
"Marcus and Elena?"
"Are at the top of my list." I handed him a glass. "Along with my father."
"Daemon." Zane spat the name like a curse. "I knew there was something wrong with him. When he had me exiled, the look in his eyes... it was too calculated. Too planned." He took a long drink. "He wanted me gone so I couldn't interfere when they moved against you."
"How long have you known about Marcus and Elena?"
"About a year." Zane's expression was grim. "I tried to get word to you, but every messenger I sent disappeared. I thought Marcus was just being paranoid. Now I realize he was covering his tracks."
A knock at the door interrupted us. A young female Beta entered, her eyes downcast submissively. "Alpha Ash, there's... there's someone here to see you. A messenger from Silverfang."
Every muscle in my body tensed. "Send them in."
A weasel-faced wolf I didn't recognize entered, holding a sealed scroll. "My Alpha sent this. He said it was... important information the new Bloodfang Alpha might find... interesting."
He handed me the scroll and practically ran out of the room.
I broke the seal. Read the contents. Then crushed the parchment in my fist.
"What is it?" Zane asked.
"Marcus is getting married." My voice was flat, emotionless. "Three days from now. At the Sacred Grove."
"That's neutral territory. No pack can attack there without violating the Continental Accords." Zane's eyes widened. "Wait. Is he marrying—"
"Elena. Yes." I poured myself another drink. "Daemon is calling it the 'Wedding of Unity.' Inviting every major pack in the region." My smile was sharp as broken glass. "He's probably hoping I'm really dead. That there's no one left to challenge the narrative."
"You're going to attack the wedding." It wasn't a question.
"I'm going to burn it to the ground."
"Kael." Zane grabbed my shoulder. "I want revenge as much as you do, but this is suicide. The Sacred Grove will be crawling with Alphas, Betas, elite warriors from a dozen packs. Not to mention—"
"The Lycan Council will be there." I met his eyes. "I know. This messenger? He's from Daemon, but he's also warning me. This is a trap."
"Then why—"
"Because I don't care." The Primordial power stirred inside me, eager, hungry. "They want to see if I'm alive? I'll show them. They want to know if I'm a threat? I'll prove it." I drained my glass. "Three days. I have three days to turn this pack into an army."
Zane studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled—the reckless grin I remembered from our childhood. "You've changed, brother. You're crazier. Darker." He clasped my forearm. "I love it. What's the plan?"
"Simple." I moved to the window overlooking the pack grounds, where a hundred Bloodfang wolves waited for their new Alpha's first orders. "I'm going to that wedding. I'm going to interrupt the ceremony. And I'm going to show Marcus, Elena, and my father exactly what they created when they tried to destroy me."
"And if the Council interferes?"
I thought of Raven's words. Make them hurt.
"Then I'll show them too."
Three Days Later - Sacred Grove
The Sacred Grove was beautiful in a way that mocked the violence I was about to unleash. Ancient oak trees formed a natural cathedral, their branches intertwined overhead, filtering moonlight into silver streams. Hundreds of wolves in formal attire filled the clearing, their voices a murmur of anticipation.
At the center, under an arch of white roses, stood Marcus.
He wore ceremonial Alpha robes—the same ones I should have worn. His face was confident, triumphant, the face of a man who'd won.
Beside him, in a flowing white dress, stood Elena. Beautiful. Radiant. Smiling as she prepared to bond with my brother.
My vision turned red.
"Alpha," Zane's voice came through the mental link. We'd positioned the Bloodfang pack in the surrounding forest, hidden, waiting. "We're in position. Say the word."
I crouched in the shadows at the edge of the clearing, my hybrid form barely contained beneath my skin. The Primordial wanted out, wanted to tear, to rend, to kill.
Not yet.
The ceremony began. An elder from the Lycan Council stepped forward to officiate—a white-haired wolf named Aldric, known for his adherence to tradition.
"We gather under the moon's blessing," Aldric intoned, "to witness the bonding of Alpha Marcus Blackclaw and Elena Silvermane. Let any who would challenge this union speak now, or—"
"I challenge."
My voice cut through the clearing like a blade.
Every head turned toward the forest. Toward the shadows where I stood.
I stepped into the moonlight.
The reaction was instantaneous. Gasps. Shouts. Several wolves shifted instinctively, preparing for battle.
"KAEL?" Marcus's face went white. "You're... you're supposed to be—"
"Dead?" I pulled back my hood, letting them see my face. See the amber glow of my eyes. See the Primordial power barely contained beneath my skin. "Did you really think a fall would kill me, brother?"
"Seize him!" Daemon's voice boomed from the crowd. "He's an exile! A marked Omega! He has no right—"
"I have EVERY right!" My voice resonated with power that made lesser wolves cringe. "You stole my birthright. You cursed me. You exiled me." I looked directly at Marcus. "And you took my mate."
Elena stepped forward, her face a mask of disgust. "I was never your mate, Kael. I chose the stronger wolf. I chose—"
"A liar and a coward." I turned my gaze on her, and she actually flinched. "But we'll get to you later."
"ENOUGH!" Aldric slammed his staff into the ground. "Kael Blackclaw, you were lawfully exiled. Your presence here violates—"
"Violates what?" I smiled. "I'm no longer Kael Blackclaw. I'm Ash, Alpha of the Bloodfang Pack. And according to the Continental Accords, any Alpha may attend a ceremony at the Sacred Grove."
Technically true. The Council's own laws working against them.
Aldric's eyes narrowed. "The Bloodfang Alpha was Fenris. We received word he died in the Death Match, but no successor was—"
"I succeeded him. I claimed the pack by right of combat." I gestured to the forest. "And I brought them with me."
On cue, a hundred Bloodfang wolves emerged from the trees, surrounding the clearing. Among them, Zane stood at the front, his eyes locked on Marcus.
The wedding guests panicked, some trying to run, others shifting to fight.
"HOLD!" Daemon's Alpha command crashed over the clearing. He stood now, his power radiating, trying to reassert dominance. "You may have claimed a pack through trickery, boy, but you're still cursed. Still broken. Still—"
I let the hybrid form loose.
My body expanded, twisted, became something between man and wolf. My clothes tore as muscles bulged and reformed. My face elongated, fangs extending, eyes burning with Primordial fire.
The transformation took three seconds.
When it was done, I stood seven feet tall, covered in midnight-black fur, with claws like swords and a presence that made even the Council members step back.
"Does this," I growled, my voice distorted but clear, "look broken to you?"
Daemon's face went pale. "Impossible. The seal—"
"Is broken." I took a step forward. Every instinct in the clearing screamed danger. Even the other Alphas were backing away. "You tried to bury what I was, father. But you forgot something important."
I met his eyes.
"Monsters don't stay buried. They dig their way out."