Chapter 165
ELENA
For a second, the courtyard was absolutely silent.
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The fire crackled softly, and the soft notes of the drums had stilled to a heartbeat rhythm as everyone turned toward Logan. The moment he raised his hand and pointed across the ring past the shifting torchlight and the stunned expressions–it felt like time stopped.
“Him,” Logan said.
His voice wasn’t raised, but it didn’t have to be. It tang clear. Direct.
And no one missed who he meant.
Derek.
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Neither did Derek.
Across the circle, Derek’s face was unreadable. He stood slowly from where he’d been watching, handed his drink off to a warrior nearby, and walked toward the center of the ring like he’d been expecting this all night.
Maybe he had.
The air shifted. The good–natured energy that had buzzed through every Courting Circle match up to this point was gone,
sucked out like someone had thrown a blanket over the fire.
Even the crowd seemed to sense it
What had been casual fun–dancing, laughing, flirty sparring–now felt like something else entirely.
Logan and Derek weren’t smiling. They weren’t joking. They didn’t clap each other’s shoulders or bow before the match like the others had.
They stood across from one another in tense, unflinching silence, two Alphas facing off.
No mate bond. No full moons. Just raw tension and unspoken accusations coiled tight in their stances.
“Staffs,” Logan said, his voice cool and clipped.
The weapons master nodded and stepped forward, presenting each of them with a long, blunted wooden staff.
Logan didn’t even glance at his–he just took it and spun it once like he was itching for a fight.
Derek, for his part, rolled his shoulders and tested the balance of his staff with careful precision.
Then because of course–Logan reached up and peeled his shirt off, to a mix of howls and wolf–whistles from the crowd.
Not to be outdone, Derek tugged his own shirt over his head and tossed it to the side.
I rolled
my eyes so hard I nearly strained something.
“Really?” 1 muttered to no one. “Is it even a werewolf gathering if the men aren’t shirtless and emotionally repressed?”
A soft voice at my side replied, “He looks really strong.”
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I turned. Alden had slipped up beside me, his face alight wir curiosity and awe
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“He’s been working out,” I said dryly, though I could feel mile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Where’d “you come from?”
“Snack table,” he said, still watching the ring. “I got a honey stick and two cookies and I think I stole a meat skewer but I’m not sure it was a stall or just a guy named Geg
“That checks out.”
The drumbeat resumed–low, steady, anticipatory.
In the ring, the Alpha raised his hand. “Begin.”
The opening of the match was surprisingly light.
Logah moved first, sweeping in with a broad, controlled swing. Derek blocked easily, their staffs clacking together with a doll thunk. They circled each other, testing reach, tempo, weight.
A few in the crowd chuckled as Logan made an exaggerated lunge that Derek dodged by simply stepping out of the way, expression unreadable.
“Nice footwork!” someone called.
Another voice–probably one of Mason’s cousins–yelled, “We better see some flips!”
Aiden laughed, eyes wide. “They’re so cool.”
“They’re two overgrown wolves trying to show off,” I muttered.
But even I couldn’t look away.
For a moment, it really did look like it might stay in the spirit of the game. There was a rhythm to it, a push and pull. Derek grinned once, faintly, after Logan missed a parry and had to scramble back a step.
But Logan didn’t smile.
And then the hits started landing harder.
The staff strikes came faster. Snapping against wood, pushing bodies back with jarring force.
Derek’s blocks turned sharper. Logan’s footwork turned predatory.
Aiden leaned forward. “Oh yeah. This is serious now.”
My heart began to climb into my throat.
The sound of wood meeting wood was no longer playful. It was aggressive. I could see the flex of muscle, the burn of focus in both their faces.
And then-
“GET HIM, DAD!”
The words shot across the lawn like an arrow.
Aiden had cupped his hands around his mouth, beaming like this was the best wrestling match of his life.
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The entire crowd gasped.
My breath caught.
Derek faltered–just for a second. Just enough to blink at the sound.
And that’s when Logan struck.
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He lunged forward and cracked the staff across Derek’s upper arm with a force that made a sickening thwark Not a tap. Not a game. A hit meant to hurt.
Derek dropped to one knee with a grunt, hand going to hism.
Blood dripped down in fast, angry rivulets.
I didn’t think. I didn’t wait.
“Enough!” I yelled, storming into the circle before anyone else could move.
The drums stopped.
The crowd froze.
stepped between them, planting myself in front of Derek with my palms out like a living barrier. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Logan stood, chest heaving, knuckles white on the staff. “It was fair.”
“That was not fair,” I snapped. “This is a ceremonial match, not a vendetta. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Derek rose behind me, staff discarded, blood still dripping down his arm. He was breathing heavily, but his expression was surprisingly calm.
Logan’s jaw twitched. “He stepped into our pack. Into you.
“I’m not a battleground,” I shot back. “And if you think that’s how you protect me, you’ve learned nothing.”
Silence rippled out like a wave.
A warrior emerged from the crowd with a med kit. I took it from him without a word and turned back to Derek, grabbing his wrist.
“Sit,” I ordered.
He blinked. “You’re very commanding when you’re mad.”
“I will stab you.”
He sat.
I pulled gauze from the pack and began cleaning the cut, trying not to wince as he hissed under his breath.
“You know,” I muttered, “this kind of behavior is usually reserved for teenage boys who just got their first shift.”
Derek winced–maybe from the antiseptic, maybe from me
“He started it,” he mumbled.
Chapter 165
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I gave him a sharp look
I’m just saying,” he added, not even bothering to hide the smirk. “It was his idea.”
I was about to respond with something scathing when a commotion from the edge of the crowd turned heads.
A warrior s
sprinted across the lawn, heading straight for Gamma Chad, who was perched on the fence watching the match like it was his personal sitcom.
Chad stood immediately, straightening.
He waved over Mason, Logan, and three more warriors. Their lighthearted posturing vanished in an instant.
Tension radiated out from the group like lightning on the air.
The mood shifted again–away from humor, away from spectacle. This was pack business now.
The crowd murmured.
Then Mason turned and jogged toward the parking area. Logan followed wordlessly. Chad paused just long enough to signal two more guards, then was gone.
My stomach dropped.
I turned and grabbed my father’s sleeve as he started after them.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He looked at me with grim resolve.
“There’s been a rogue attack.”
Chapter 166,
Chapter 166
