Page 49 of Bronx

In Steele’s place, Bronx would have attacked immediately—but there was a reason Steele and not Bronx was the alpha. Steele simply raised an eyebrow. “You think a duel will solve your problems?”

“Probably not,” the rebel leader countered, his eyes narrowing. “But it will prove who is the true alpha.”

Steele froze for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed aloud. “You’re no alpha.”

“Afraid to face me?”

“You’re just a boy.” Steele’s laughter died abruptly, and he shook his head almost sadly, his lips twisting. “I won’t indulge your reckless ambitions.”

Young though he might be, the rebel leader embodied every horrible thing Ryker had told Bronx about the males of the Idaho Pack. He was consumed by his own selfish desires, willing to risk the lives of both packs for his personal gain.

And as head guardian of the Moonstone Pack, Bronx would sooner die than allow that to happen.

“Very well,” the Idaho rebel leader sneered, taking a step back. “If you refuse to face me, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

“Let them come,” Steele said calmly.

Another growl rumbled in Bronx’s throat.

“Stand down, Bronx,” Steele ordered, laying a hand on his guardian’s back.

“Wait!” another voice cried out from among the Idaho rebels, cutting through the hostility like a knife. A lanky youth—he couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty—with wide, nervous eyes stepped forward, trembling slightly. “What if…what if we try a permanent truce? Before this goes too far?”

Bronx’s ears twitched at the suggestion, but his focus remained on the enemy pack. He was wary of any attempt to manipulate Steele, and he couldn’t risk the possibility that this was a ploy.

Steele’s eyes flickered momentarily to the young rebel, then back to the leader. “I refuse your challenge and any truce,” he announced loudly enough for everyone in both packs to hear. “It’s far too late.” He gestured around them. “You attacked during a celebration.”

Steele’s words only seemed to fan the flames of anger among the rebels, human eyes narrowing and hands clenching into fists, wolf chests erupting in growls.

“Peace was a possibility, but no longer,” Steele continued, his tone steady and controlled.

Bronx’s mind raced, considering the possible outcomes of this confrontation.

“You’ve proven that there’s no room for negotiation,” Steele continued. “We sought unity, but you chose betrayal.” He paused, looking the younger shifter up and down. “Strength doesn’t make an alpha. A true alpha leads with wisdom, compassion, and integrity. As far as I can tell, you possess none of these qualities.”

The insult seemed to strike the rebel leader like a physical blow, and he staggered back, clearly reeling from the unexpected attack on his character. Bronx knew the battle could erupt again at any second, and his wolf wanted to howl in anticipation.

“Then we have nothing more to discuss,” the rebel leader managed to say, his gaze filled with hatred.

“Nothing more,” Steele agreed, his voice cold and final. “We will stand our ground and protect what is ours. You may leave with your lives if you choose, but any further attempts at violence will be met with the full force of the Moonstone Pack.”

The tension tightened around Bronx like a noose, his muscles coiled and ready to unleash at any moment.

A mere twitch gave away the rebel’s plan. He snarled, leaping toward Steele. As he soared through the air, his body twisted and contorted, bones cracking and fur sprouting from his skin until a massive wolf lunged at the Moonstone Pack alpha.

But Bronx was already moving to intercept him. Jaws snapping, the Moonstone guardian collided with the attacker, sinking his teeth into the other wolf’s shoulder. The taste of blood filled his mouth, but it did little to quell his rage.

The remaining rebel shifters surged back into the fray, snarls and growls filling the air with a cacophony of violence.

Every breath Bronx took coated the back of this throat with the metallic taste of blood.

In the chaos, as teeth met flesh and claws tore through fur, a single thought burned in Bronx’s mind.

Protect.

Protect his family, his pack, his alpha—and most importantly, protect Cora and Samuel. With every snarl, every bite, Bronx channeled his rage into this need to protect. As he tore through another Idaho shifter, he checked for any sign of Cora. He needed to know she was safe – that Samuel was safe. It clawed at his insides like a desperate animal.

Then, as if someone had called out his name, Bronx’s head snapped to the left, and there, amid the snarling and growling, he saw her.

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