Page 41 of Alpha's Promise

"Deserve? Rightfully yours?" Dakota spat out the word like venom, her hackles rising as she prepared for the inevitable clash. She knew she should be concerned with the fact that she was naked, but she wasn’t. She no longer felt vulnerable around him. "You deserve nothing but the justice that comes for those who betray their own. And nothing of my grandfather or his ancestors is rightfully yours."

Uncertainty gnawed at her insides, a relentless beast that made her doubt about her ability to overcome a male dire wolf's brute strength. She knew the fight could end in death, yet the resolve that hardened her heart was ironclad. No touch, no claim, no forced bond would be his prize this night.

He lunged toward her, but Dakota was swift, sidestepping with an agility that belied her statuesque form. She pivoted, ready to unleash the ferocity etched into her soul by centuries of hidden heritage.

"Your threats are empty," she snarled, her voice low as it echoed off the high ceilings. "I will fight you until my last breath before I let you shackle me to a life of submission."

"Then let us see whose blood runs truer to the ancient call," he challenged.

Dakota called forth her she-wolf—the swirling mist of color, lightning and thunder rising from the floor like some ancient mist. She felt what was now the familiar shifting of her body as the woman she was became the she-wolf of legend. As the mist fell away, once more she faced her ex, and this time she would not relinquish her wolf form regardless of what he did.

Her ex laughed at the transformation, a sound dripping with derision. Then, with a mocking grin twisting his features, he too began to shift. His body was consumed by the swirling mist of thunder, lightning and color, expanding into the formidable shape of a dire wolf, dark fur bristling with malice.

Dakota took a step back. He’d hinted at his true nature, but seeing it realized hit her like a punch to the gut. He’d known all along. He was like her—another creature of myth and moonlight, capable of darkness that mirrored her own potential for savagery. A sense of dread settled in her stomach like a stone, but she pushed it away, steadying herself for the battle ahead.

As the two dire wolves circled one another, the estate bore silent witness to the struggle of wills, an ancestral home turned arena for a duel as old as the curse itself.

‘Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming.’She could hear the thought in her head. She considered reaching back out to Landon, but if she was to survive, she needed to focus on just that—survival.

And Dakota, with every fiber of her being alight with the ferocity of her forebears, readied herself for the battle to defend her freedom and forge her destiny anew. The air between them was electric, charged with the anticipation of a fight that had been centuries in the making.

The grand estate—the silent witness to their standoff—seemed to hold its breath, its opulent halls reverberating with tension. Paintings of long-dead ancestors looked on from the walls, their stoic faces shrouded in shadow, as if the very history of the Westwood line converged upon this singular, fateful encounter.

Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the trees with a mournful cry that seemed to echo Dakota's inner turmoil. But within her chest, a fire burned bright, fueled by the knowledge that no matter the cost, she would defend her legacy to the last snarl and snap of her jaws.

The opulent room, with its heavy velvet drapes and ancient oil paintings, became a battleground of primal fury as Dakota faced the monstrous form of her ex. His eyes, once familiar in their human guise, now gleamed with an otherworldly glow that set her pulse racing with both fear and anger.

The air crackled with primal energy, heavy with the scent of danger and an undercurrent of ancient magic. With a guttural growl that seemed to rise from the bowels of the earth itself, Dakota launched herself at her ex-lover. Her lithe form was a blur of shadow and muscle as she barreled into him, herjaws aiming for the vulnerable underbelly that even dire wolves couldn't armor.

Claws met fur in a maelstrom of snarls and snapping teeth. The estate's grand hall transformed into a wild battlefield, the opulence marred by the savagery of their struggle. Antique vases shattered, their porcelain fragments scattering like the remnants of a more civilized life now beyond reach.

Dakota struck with the ferocity of her lineage, each swipe of her paw fueled by a legacy of survival against the dark spells that had haunted her family. But he was an unyielding force, his own heritage an equal match to hers, his strikes potent with the desperation of a being fighting extinction.

She could feel the sting of his fangs grazing her flank, the impact of his weight attempting to bring her down. It was a dance as old as time, two predators entwined in lethal combat, each driven by their intrinsic natures. And yet, despite the raw power coursing through her veins, Dakota sensed the tide turning against her.

Panting, her energy waning like the last flicker of twilight before nightfall, she realized the grim truth. She was formidable, but not invincible. Her opponent bore the mass and strength of a male dire wolf in his prime, his endurance seemingly inexhaustible.

A sharp pain lanced through her shoulder as his teeth found purchase, a stark reminder of what was at stake. Fear coiled in her belly—not of death, but of a fate far worse: a life spent caged by a man's twisted sense of entitlement. The thought spurred her on, igniting a desperate surge of adrenaline.

Nevershe thought as she bared her teeth, the word a human defiance amidst the animalistic chaos.

Yet, as they clashed once more, the scales tipped further out of her favor. Each parry and thrust drained her reserves, her body screaming protestations with every movement. In theperiphery of her vision, she caught a glimpse of her own blood staining the antique rug—scarlet evidence of her fading hope.

Dakota Westwood, descendant of cursed warriors, might have met her match. But surrender was not written in her stars, nor was compliance etched in her bones. She would fight, claw, and bite until the very end, her spirit undimmed even in the face of overwhelming odds.

The howl of the wind outside the grand windows of her grandfather's estate seemed to mock Dakota's plight, whispering secrets of freedom she feared she might never again taste. Her muscles strained with fatigue, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she circled her adversary, the dire wolf who once whispered false promises of love in her ear. His fur, a mottled grey like the storm clouds overhead, bristled with each menacing growl.

Dakota's own coat, a rich fabric of midnight and silver, was marred by the crimson that seeped from her wounds. The pain was a constant thrum, blending with the staccato beat of her heart. She could sense his satisfaction, the dark amusement in his yellow eyes as he toyed with her—a predator savoring the despair of its prey.

She lunged in an attempt to reclaim some ground, but he was swift and brutishly efficient. A powerful swipe sent her reeling, and she staggered against the age-old bookshelf, volumes tumbling around her like a cascade of forgotten knowledge. A sharp twinge shot up her hind leg, and she knew it would not bear her weight much longer.

As her opponent closed in, the air thickened, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the electric charge of imminent death. Dakota's vision blurred, her limbs quivering with exhaustion. This could be the end—the extinguishing of her spirit beneath the oppressive shadow of his dominance.

And then, with the inevitability of fate itself, the silhouette of salvation framed the doorway.

Landon stood against the dim light of the hallway, his presence a kind of unforeseen cavalry. His posture was relaxed, yet alert, the lines of his body coiled with potential energy. Dark hair fell haphazardly over his brow, framing intense eyes that burned with a fierce resolve.

"Let her go and walk away," Landon's voice cut through the tension, a blade of authority that pierced the room's charged atmosphere.

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