Page 122 of Villainous Fate

Giovanni killed Luca. Giovanni killed my brother.

My wolf turns back to him, anger building with each passing moment.

Deacon: Look what you’ve done!

Giovanni: Me? This is all you, bastardo. Your weakness forced him to intervene. His death is on you.

Deacon: Then yours will be too.

I shout into the mind-link seconds before I turn on him, knocking his wolf to the ground. My jaw snapping shut narrowly misses his right flank, which causes him to kick out his back paw in defense. Seconds turn to minutes as we search for weakness, an opening, a moment to take advantage.

He moves quickly despite his age and uses the memories of my years of fights with Luca to predict my attacks. Reading each as they come and defending them quickly.

His jaw snaps at my face, teeth grazing my muzzle as I lean out of the way of the attack. The move has me off balance, so I kick off the ground in a leap, using the movement to adjust my weight back to center and crashing my weight onto his flank. He attempts to snap at my front paw, but I retract it just in time, snarling and gnashing my teeth in defiance.

We pop up, backs arching, ready for the next attack, as we circle each other, looking for an opening. His front leg gushes blood while a bite at my hip still oozes. His wolf pants, exhaustion evident and I chastise his conditioning.

Deacon: Need to take a break… I guess you should have pushed yourself as hard as you pushed Luca and me.

He doesn’t respond; he merely takes his chance, jumping in my direction, jaw open, full force. I dodge the hit, and we roll, battling for control when I force him to the ground beneath me.

Deacon: Submit. Say the words to me so I can hear your defeat.

Panic fills Giovanni’s eyes as he realizes he’s lost.

Giovanni: I submit.

He sends finally, his voice small, defeated even in my mind.

A snarl rolls from my mouth seconds before my jaws lock around his exposed throat.

Giovanni: I submit. I submit.

He shouts into my mind.

Deacon: I. Don’t. Care.

I send before I bite down completely, tearing his throat out just as he had to Luca moments ago.

As understanding sparks in his expression, the truth that his submission was only a cruel gesture I would never follow through on.

He doesn’t deserve civility.

Something inside me snaps, breaking away and leaving no trace behind. A dark kind of happiness flows through me, vengeance tasting sweet upon my tongue. The light slowly leaves his eyes, and I howl, letting out all of the day's emotions and pulling the pack in with me.

Some howl for Luca, others for Giovanni, but in the following moments, I feel my connection to each pack member—an invisible thread tying itself to every wolf until I feel them all.

My Pack.

Mentally, I flip through them, taking in the emotions as they flow uninterrupted through the bond. My wolf relents, allowing me control, and I shift back. Blood coats my jaw and throat as I stand at the center of the platform, Luca and Giovanni at my feet.

Belsom’s voice roars again over the microphone.

“The challenge winner, Deacon Marlo, Alpha of the Northern Nevada Pack,” he says, causing cheers to go up from some pack members and boos to arise from others.

I lift my hand in the air, and the crowd grows silent. They wait for my command, my words, my leadership.

This was never supposed to be me.

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