Page 46 of Ruthless Alpha
“I’m sorry your life is awful. I’m sorry your mate is drunk and mean, and violent. I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can leave. I wish there was something I could do for you, but I’m going now.” I wasn’t generous enough to offer to take herwith me. She might have been Stanley’s victim, but she was my tormentor, too.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Moira insisted, but she no longer looked certain of it.
“You don’t own me. I’m an adult now.”
“You’re a stupid child.”
There was no point in arguing with her, no point in telling her I was mated, that I was leaving for her benefit, because if Xander found out I’d been abducted, he’d tear Arbor apart to find me. Moira would only tell me I was lying, that I’d never be worth that much to anyone.
“Fine,” I said, “but I’m still leaving.”
My head was throbbing, but that was a problem for later. For now, all that mattered was getting out of here. Moira wouldn’t stop me—at least I didn’t think she would—and if I could shift and get a head start on Stanley, I’d be back on Ferris by morning.
I made a decision. If I were leaving Arbor anyway, leaving for good, they could know exactly who I was. I was done being afraid. I closed my eyes, like Eve had taught me, looking inside myself again. It got easier each time to find the pool of power, to tease it out until I could feel that energy buzzing in my hand. I heard but barely registered my aunt’s gasp as that thin string of light danced from my fingers and into the keyhole, shifting and shimmering until we heard the softclickof the lock’s release.
After that, it was chaos. Moira was already screaming as I wrenched open the door and bolted out into the street. If I hadn’t run right into my uncle, my escape might have been simple, but nothing had ever been simple for me. I shifted just in time toavoid his grasp, but even as my wolf sprinted down the road, toward a bridge—any bridge—I could feel him hot on my tail.
Chapter 21 - Xander
Blood dripped into my eyes. The exposed guts of my last opponent steamed in the cold air as his body was dragged away to be added to the pile. I had won, but barely. After four days of endless bloodshed, I was hanging on by a thread, but I was more determined than ever. I’d come home every evening, sore and weary, to find Lenise and Gina on my porch, ready to patch me up. I’d killed the man responsible for Gina’s scar on the second day, and hadn’t said anything about the tears that had streaked her face that evening.
“Anyone else?” I roared. The crowd of dissenters had thinned significantly over the last few days and was now almost entirely made up of males who were either too young or too old to stand a chance against me. If any were left who wanted to challenge me, I could only hope they were smart enough to know better, smart enough to see the blood of their Packmates shining on the ground and decide it wasn’t worth it.
I stared them down for several long minutes, met with nothing but silence. Was it really over? Had I really forced a new way of life onto this Pack and lived?
“I challenge the Alpha.”
The voice that came from behind me was familiar and trusted. My heart sank.
“Cole, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, trying to ignore the ripple of renewed energy from the crowd. Cole leaned in close, his voice thick with repressed anger as he hissed,
“You’re too cunt-struck to see what’s good for this Pack. We won’t be run on the whims of a little girl from Arbor.”
I felt sick, unmoored, but I couldn’t lose focus. I couldn’t fall at this final hurdle.
“Alright then,” I snarled. “Let’s go.”
A fresh wave of enthusiasm had come over the dissenters, and they cheered as Cole took center stage. It was a victory for them before the fight even started, to know that one of my most trusted Betas was standing up against me.
Cole didn’t bother with grandstanding, didn’t need to rile up his supporters, instead simply shifting into the gray wolf I’d run with so many times. His yellow eyes were sharp, his claws quick, and his knowledge of my fighting style potentially deadly.
I’d been wearing the Telaxis prototype for the last two days. So far, it had only functioned as armor, but if I was going up against Cole, I was going to need all the help I could get. I loosened the clasps to allow expansion with the shift, flicking the release mechanism as I shifted. The crowd gasped as wicked spikes emerged from the sides of the backplate, ready to slice the flesh of anyone who got too close.
Cole’s eyes narrowed. Already, I could see the cogs and wheels of his brain turning, looking for weak spots and making a plan of attack. He was no cocky fighter, no bullheaded youth who thought he could do anything. Cole was smart—it was the reason I’d promoted him to Beta when I took power.
We circled each other for what felt like hours, neither making the first move. Him because he couldn’t find a gap in my armor—I was going to give Jace whatever he wanted forever—and me because I couldn’t stand the thought of going for the throat of a man I’d had at my side for almost a decade.
My first attack was low, aiming to take him out at the legs. If I could incapacitate him, make him utterly incapable of fighting without killing him, I might be able to save him. In thetime it would take to recover, he would see how much happier our Pack would become, and he would come around.
Cole danced around my attack, his gray wolf lithe and nimble. I should have known he’d see that attack coming. I’d put myself at a disadvantage by trying to incapacitate a fighter who was going for the kill, but I could pull it off. I might be down to the last reserves of my strength, but that only made me more determined. I swiped again, then again in the direction I knew he would dodge.
He growled as his front leg went out beneath him, blood matting the fur. His returning snap caught my own paw, teeth digging in deep and worrying the limb until I opened my jaws and snapped at his neck. I could have gone for the kill—wouldhave gone for the kill if I were smarter—but it was only a warning. Cole dropped my paw, and pain lanced up my leg as I put weight on the injured pad.
I refused to limp, refused to appear weakened. The bite of pain with every step was a boon, I told myself, a shock to the system to wake up my tired body. My eyes were fixed on Cole as he assessed a new angle for attack, and I prepared myself for claws to my face or my injured leg.
Cole did neither. Instead, he rolled onto his back as he came forward, slipping beneath the spikes of my armor to rake his claws across the underside of my chest. I howled in pain, rearing up onto my hind legs. Cole scrambled back to his feet, but not quite fast enough—I lashed out as I landed on all fours again, my jaws sinking into the meat of his right haunch. He yelped, and I dug my teeth in harder, blood welling in my mouth. I hung on for several long seconds, the sound of Cole’s pained howl ringing in the air until I finally let go.
In any other fight, Cole would have yielded—smart enough to know he was cooked. Blood was dripping from the deep wounds in his hind quarters, his back leg hanging limp and useless.
