Page 53 of Broken Pregnant Mate
“I renounced you,” Oren replies simply, striding forward. “Not my family, and not this family. And not my birthright.”
Guests scramble to get out of his way, pressing against the walls. Pack leaders from other territories, other lands watch with undisguised interest—this kind of drama is exactly what they came hoping to see.
“You have no birthright here,” Jerrod snarls, setting down his glass, turning to fully face his son. He hangs his head at an odd tilt. “You forfeited that when you fled like a coward.”
“I left to find allies,” Oren counters, stopping in the center of the room. “To learn how a real alpha leads his pack.”
Jerrod laughs, the sound sharp and cold. “And who taught you that? The soft-hearted alpha of Ambersky, who takes in strays and rejects?”
“At least Dorian Fields protects his people instead of bleeding them dry,” Oren says, his voice steady despite the tension radiating from him. “When was the last time you put the pack before yourself?”
The crowd murmurs at this open disrespect. Jerrod’s face darkens with rage as he steps down from the dais, his personal guards moving to flank him.
“You dare break into my house, on mybirthday, to question how I lead?” Jerrod’s voice drops to a dangerous growl. “I should have you torn apart where you stand.”
“You could try,” Oren says with a cold smile. “But then how would you explain to our guests why the alpha leader of the Grayhides is afraid of words spoken by his own son?”
“Oren,” Jerrod says, stepping toward his son, his voice dropping to an octave I strain to hear. “You need toleave.”
This is my cue. As Jerrod focuses entirely on Oren, I slip from the shadows and move along the edge of the room. The guests are so captivated by the confrontation between father and son that few notice me circling toward them.
“My accusation is simple,” Oren continues, his voice carrying clearly. “You rule through fear rather than respect. You take what isn’t yours and call it strength.”
“Pretty words,” Jerrod sneers, his voice rising again. “Is that what they taught you in the Ambersky pack? To whine about fairness while real alphas do what’s necessary?”
“They taught me that an alpha protects his pack,” Oren replies. “Something you never learned—not even from your own father.”
Jerrod’s face contorts with fury. “My father was weak. Just like you.”
“Your father wasmurdered,” Oren says quietly. “Just like the parents of the true heir to the Grayhide pack.”
Confusion flickers across Jerrod’s face for an instant before understanding dawns. He begins to turn, suddenly aware of the trap, but it’s too late.
I step onto the dais, into the space Jerrod has just vacated, making myself visible to everyone in the room.
“Jerrod Blacklock,” I call out, my voice stronger than I expected. At the corner of the room, I catch a glimpse of Dorian and Emin watching, and feel almost like they are my proud father and uncle. “I, Aidan Grayhide, son of Marcus Grayhide, rightful alpha of this pack, challenge you by the ancient law of blood and succession.”
Jerrod whirls to face me, his eyes widening in recognition, shock. “You…”
He trails off, glancing up and to the left, his eyes flicking so quickly I almost don’t catch it. But he’s looked to the top of the room, as if for direction.
“Disappointed?” I ask, stepping down from the dais to face him. “I am invoking the right of challenge. Here, now, before these witnesses.”
Murmurs sweep through the crowd. The right of challenge is ancient pack law—one that even Jerrod cannot openly defy without losing all legitimacy as Alpha.
Jerrod’s gaze darts around the room, taking in the expectant faces of the other pack leaders. I can see him calculating, looking for a way out that won’t make him appear weak. But there’s also something else there, a strange fear, a strange lingering on his son.
“This is absurd,” he finally says, forcing a laugh. “You appear out of nowhere, claiming to be someone who died years ago—”
“Are you refusing the challenge?” Oren interrupts, his voice carrying a note of triumph. “Is the alpha of the Grayhides afraid to face an orphan?”
Jerrod freezes for a second, his gaze going blank, then rears back, snarling, “I accept your challenge. And when I kill you, the Grayhide line will truly be extinct.”
As the guests hurriedly clear space in the center of the ballroom, I step forward to meet my enemy.
For a brief moment, Emaline’s face flashes in my mind—her green eyes, her smile. I’m going to beat Blacklock for myself, but also for her. Forherfuture, whatever she wants that to be.
Jerrod removes his jacket, handing it to one of his guards. “Let’s end this quickly,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “I have a celebration to get back to.”
