Page 87 of War Games

I should have stayed out of the Alaska situation. I know I should have, but Jacky and her family weren’t playing nicely with Callahan and Corissa after the truth about Fenris cameout. Jacky had spearheaded that, her grief in the way, and no one faulted her for that… but I should have stayed in Texas.

“So, what the fuck, Corissa?” Landon asked boldly.

“Watch your tongue with me,” Corissa snarled in reply. “Your father gives you too much leash sometimes.”

“My apologies. You go first, then,” Landon said, bowing gracefully, backing down but still with all the typical Landon attitude he was known for to all the werewolves from other packs. With his utter disregard for their positions, he intentionally robbed people of their supposed power because he didn’t care about pack structure or rank outside of his position to Heath.

“Can you convince your father to have a reasonable discussion right now instead of this challenge?” Corissa asked, crossing her arms.

Landon looked at him, and Heath could only shake his head. Whatever real game these two had played, he would learn later. It didn’t matter what their intentions were anymore. Jacky got hurt, and he was going to make sure no other werewolf every thought to act out of line and put her in danger ever again. If being on the Tribunal gave him that power, he was going to take it. It also solved their problems. No one would wonder anymore about the direction of the werewolves, wondering if they could follow Heath’s path and go rogue or if they should stay loyal to the Tribunal werewolves. He would be able to forever change the direction of the werewolves, one that worked in his favor, just so he could be with her.

It only made sense to Heath that he had this fight, and he wasn’t willing to back down.

I can do the job better than Callahan.

That small, arrogant thought ran through him as he faced down his last few minutes before he changed the supernatural world or died.

“No,” Landon said, smiling, though he was showing enough teeth that it was more threatening than mocking. “Jacky got hurt. Don’t care what you two were planning or why. Don’t care that this will rattle all the other little werewolves around the world with a new power dynamic. All we care about is making sure no one from the werewolves ever touches Jacky or anyone else in our family ever again.”

“Please listen,” Corissa whispered, looking from Landon to Heath.

Heath turned his back to her and began the Change.

“No,” Landon growled. “You played your games. They didn’t work, whatever they were. Now, it’s time for us to play ours.”

Five minutes passed, and as Heath stood as a werewolf, he turned to Callahan, who was also finishing. Heath pushed to Change faster and faster as he got older, trying to be the best, learning to push through the pain of it quickly. Callahan had age and experience, probably learning the same lessons as Heath over his years. They were both fast in the process, while most werewolves took at least ten to fifteen minutes, if not longer.

Callahan was probably six inches bigger at the shoulder and had twenty pounds more muscle, a truly giant werewolf, and Heath was well beyond their average size already. Landon was somewhere between them, just thanks to what he was. They were probably the largest werewolves in the world at this point.

It’s been a long time since he’d been the smaller one in a fight… After today, it will probably never happen again.

No one had to tell them when it was the right time to start. Both were experienced Alphas who had fought to the top. They knew the timing, making sure Landon and Corissa were fully clear and no one else was about to jump in. It happened sometimes—spouses trying to save their mates and the like or worse, children thinking to save their parents. Since this was an organized fight, there was no real rush to launch into the fight.

Until the switch flipped, and they both did.

Teeth slid off muscles through fur, unable to gain purchase. Aiming for vulnerable areas like the back of each other’s legs or, better, bellies. A debilitating injury like a broken or maimed leg would end a fight decisively.

Most of the fight was precision attacks dodged by experienced fighters. Callahan was as good as Heath could have imagined with his roughly two-thousand years of experience as a werewolf. Heath was scrappy, knowing if Callahan killed him, he wouldn’t be able to protect his children or Jacky ever again. Heath thought his own motivation would be fiercer than Callahan’s, but the Tribunal Alpha was taking him seriously. Heath knew if he was caught, there would be a killing blow. Callahan was fighting for his own life, and he wasn’t going to give Heath even a moment of respite through arrogance to take an easier victory.

Heath slipped up once, teeth sinking into his back leg. He had an answer for it, though. Spinning, he ignored the bone cracks of his leg and grabbed Callahan’s tail. Callahan, with more muscle and a better grip, tried to shake Heath like a toy, but Heath used that to rip Callahan’s tail clean off, much easier than removing a back leg.

There was blood everywhere, thanks to those injuries, causing the marble floors to grow slick. Fights like this were meant to happen in the grass and dirt, out in nature, where the blood would soak into the ground. Instead, both of them were now fighting to keep their purchase, and at their size and speed, it led to more mistakes.

Callahan lost an ear next, Heath ripping it off when he’d hoped to get the back of Callahan’s neck. Heath felt teeth hit his ribs and break at least a couple. Callahan was unable to get a good bite, but the force of the hit was enough to do real damage.

Heath made some distance, knowing the ribs and the back leg were going to be the death of him if he didn’t get something better against Callahan. They prowled in a circle, knowing they were both trying to think of a way to finish this without dying themselves. Heath was slowing down because of his injuries, but Callahan was bleeding out because of the ripped-off tail. Both of them looked bad.

Heath went for it head-on. Callahan faced him, but Heath stayed lower than Callahan was expecting, perhaps the blood loss taking more effect or expecting Heath to be bolder in the head-on charge. Heath got right under Callahan, whose teeth tried to get onto his back, but Heath got to Callahan’s belly, and he got the bite he really needed.

With a howl of pain as Heath pulled him down by his belly, Callahan hit the ground with a resounding thud. He didn’t completely gut the other werewolf. Knowing he did severe internal damage, it would be enough. Heath released Callahan’s belly to rise over Callahan’s head, ready to take out his neck instead. Ready to kill him the way he saw Jacky kill, just to drive the point home, for people to talk about later. Callahan fell unconscious, slowly dying.

“STOP!” Corissa screeched as Heath set his mouth on the neck of his fallen enemy.

“Don’t interfere!” Landon roared.

“He did it for me!” Corissa screamed. “He never wanted to be on the Tribunal. He never wanted any of this! He was planning on stepping down to you! When you survived Oberon’s Test, he was going to step down for you!” The smell of her horror, the escalating realization that her mate was dying, overrode the smell of all the blood on the floor.

Heath heard the words but felt distant from them, felt distant from human thought. A fight like this could bring out something primal in the moon cursed, and he was deep in it. He growled,trying to listen, trying to fight the urge to just finish the fight and never have to worry about Callahan again.

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