Page 103 of The Cursed Wolf King

Logan raised his chin, looking down his nose at Grayson. I’d never seen anyone act so brave while being so weak.

Every wolf watched, no one daring to move. Even the visiting alphas shifted uneasily. Whatever sick confidence they’d had before, it was cracking.

“You’ve lost your mind, Orion.” Grayson was full-on strutting toward Logan, my mate, who was huffing in air, his pain rippling through me, while he tried to look fierce.

“Let’s end this,” was all Logan said in reply.

Grayson didn’t move, as if he was trying to find the catch. He’d never been challenged, never had his authority questioned without immediate consequences for the offender.

This was different. This was Orion. This was the fight Grayson had only ever dreamed of, and in Logan’s condition… the odds were disgustingly in his favor.

I spat on the ground.

Grayson laughed, sending shivers down my spine. “So be it,” he said with the authority of an alpha’s decree. “The challenge is accepted.”

The clearing suddenly broke into activity, alphas and Heraclid wolves clearing space for the inevitable fight. I turned to Logan, placing my hands on his cheeks as the flurry around us continued.

“What on earth are you doing, Logan? You can’t!”

“Grayson is wrong,” he said, his tone betraying not the slightest emotion while mine were about to boil over. “You said it yourself. The Shadow Moon packs can’t continue with this scourge of an alpha among us, and no one else will ever stand up to him. You…” He took my hands in his. “You will never be safe as long as he is alive.”

“I’ll never be safe if you’re dead.”

He pulled me into his arms. Our bodies met, my head on his chest, everything pressed against him. I did everything I could to pass along to him the energy, power, and focus he would need.

A challenge—alpha to alpha—was the very definition of going it alone. Just as I’d finally understood that our fated bond couldn’t be complete without giving in to each other completely, he was going and demanding achallenge.

There was nothing I could do for him.

He pressed his lips to mine, his resolve burning through them, and I grabbed him behind the neck for a few more seconds with him, the power of our bond flowing through us, but still stunted, still unfinished, and Goddess, I needed him to have all of me. To survive this.

And I didn’t know how he would.

He stepped back, his fingertips trailing along my cheek. He turned and marched to the place where a group of enforcers were guarding Rhys.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered under my breath.

Kenza and Anwen emerged from the crowd and ran to me. Anwen placed her arm across my shoulders. “He’s your fated mate,” she murmured, so low it barely reached me. “And he believes in you. You need to believe in him.”

I didn’t answer. What could I say? That I did believe in him, but not in this? That watching him stand there, his shoulders squared and his alpha force emanating from him, filled me with equal parts awe and terror?

My wolf snarled, pacing and restless. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to run to him, to stand at his side, teeth bared and ready to take down anyone who dared to threatenhim. The rest of me—the rational part of me—was rooted in place.

Logan wasn’t fighting only Grayson. He was fighting the curse. Fighting the depravity of a pack that had gone all wrong. Fighting for our future, in the greatest sense.

The air buzzed with tension as Grayson stepped forward, his face split into a wolfish grin. He looked like he was savoring this, as if the fight had already been decided in his favor.

“You’re a fool, Logan.” His words were soaked in venom, but his body language was relaxed, almost casual, like this was just another day for him. “Even if you somehow manage to win, you’ll lose. That’s the beauty of a curse, you see. It doesn’t just kill you. It eats everything you’ve built, everything you’ve worked for. Your pack, your precious mate—gone. One way or another.”

My stomach twisted violently. Logan didn’t so much as flinch.

The tension crackled through the clearing. Somewhere on the edge of the crowd, a shadow moved—quiet and almost imperceptible. My wolf sensed movement, alerting me before my eyes could catch it. A woman, lithe and swift, wove between the trees.

Sable.

Her steps carried purpose, though she remained on the fringes as though avoiding notice. At first, I thought she might be fleeing, escaping the chaos around us before something could go really bad. Then she stopped, and her pale golden eyes met mine. It was only for a heartbeat, but something passed between us. My wolf stirred uneasily, caught between suspicion and a strange recognition.

Not all enemies are what they seem.The thought swept through me, distinct but faint, as if it had been carried on the wind. It wasn’t my own. It came through with a unique voice, a clear bond, and I suddenly felt anchored to her.

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