Chapter 5: The Challenge

NIKOLAI

I stood at the center of Crescent’s gathering grounds with Orion at my side.

The entire pack had been pulled from their morning routines. Warriors lined the edges of the clearing. Omegas stood near the back; heads lowered. Servants hovered behind them, afraid to breathe too loudly.

The poisoned cup sat in my hand.

Orion glanced at it. “Are you going to kill him?”

“No.”

“You’re feeling merciful.”

“I don’t need to kill him.”

Surrounded by his warriors, Adrian emerged from the main house. Daniel followed close behind, already calculating how to turn whatever happened next into a story that protected him.

Adrian stopped several feet away. “You summoned me like a subordinate,” he said.

I lifted the cup. “This contains enough wolfsbane to stop an Alpha’s heart.”

The courtyard went silent.

Not the respectful kind. The kind that happened when everyone was calculating what to do with the next thirty seconds.

Adrian's composure didn't break. It shifted—a fractional tightening at the jaw, a half-second before his recovery. Most people would have missed it—I didn't.

“I didn’t order anything,” Adrian snapped. “Anaiyah acted on her own.”

"Why would she warn me?"

He stopped.

"She knocked the drink out of my hand." I kept my voice level and conversational. "If she intended to kill me, she had every opportunity. You're asking me to believe she sabotaged her own plan."

"The girl is manipulative—"

"She warned me," I repeated. "Explain that."

The whispers started. Adrian's face stayed controlled, but the crowd wasn't. Two wolves near the front exchanged a look that told me exactly where their sympathies were moving.

He pivoted. "She’s the traitor’s daughter,” he shouted. “She has always hated Crescent. She poisoned you, then lied when she realized she’d been caught.”

"She's the traitor's daughter."

Adrian moved before I could speak.

Fear crossed Anaiyah’s face.

Not because Adrian was angry.

Because Adrian was afraid.

I stepped between them—not touching her. I didn’t need to.

Adrian stopped.

"You've told everyone that." I let the words land. "So, explain to me why a woman with that reputation chose to protect me rather than finish what you told her to do."

No answer.

I turned toward the man on my right. "The bottle."

My lieutenant stepped forward with a sealed evidence container—the original bottle recovered from Adrian's private stores, bearing the residue of what had been poured into that cup. Orion had found it within two hours. Adrian hadn't even hidden it well.

"Prepared under your direct authority," I continued. "Accessed from your private stock. Handed to a woman threatened into compliance." I let that sit. "And you want me to believe that she acted alone."

His jaw tightened. "You have no right to stand in Crescent territory and judge me," Adrian said, steadiness costing him more than he could afford. "This is my pack. My authority. You entered without an invitation."

The words carried across the gathering grounds.

Adrian looked around at his pack. Doubt had begun replacing obedience. He could feel it slipping from his hands. So, he reached for pride. “If you want Crescent,” he declared, “take it from me before the entire pack.”

Daniel stepped forward. “Adrian, don’t—”

“Invoke the ancient right,” Adrian cut him off.

The crowd stirred.

I studied him for several seconds.

He believed a challenge would restore his authority. He believed strength could still save him.

Orion leaned close. “He just volunteered to ruin his own morning.”

I removed my coat and handed it to Orion.

“Stay back,” I ordered the pack.

Adrian shifted first, charging with everything he had.

I let Draven rise.

The difference was immediate.

Draven was enormous, ancient, and controlled. The pack realized at once that this wasn't a fight between equal Alphas.

It was a demonstration.

I moved offline. His strike caught nothing. He recovered faster than I expected—good instincts—and drove his elbow toward my ribs.

I let it land.

The impact was real. Adrian wasn't helpless. He had youth and the specific ferocity of someone fighting for everything he had left, and I respected that enough to acknowledge it.

What he didn't have was a century.

I'd fought men who hit harder, moved faster, and had nothing left to lose. I'd fought wars and survived them. I'd outlasted bloodlines. I'd walked away from battles that should have killed me twice over.

Adrian had five years of experience and a pack that feared him.

I had a hundred and eight years and a wolf who hadn't considered this a real fight since the moment it started.

I caught his next strike at the wrist, redirected it, stepped inside his guard, and drove two precise strikes into his ribs. Hard enough to matter. Controlled enough to keep him standing. A dead Alpha became a martyr. A living deposed Alpha became a lesson.

Adrian's wolf surfaced through his pain—driving him forward on instinct—and Draven responded with something that wasn't even urgency. Just presence. Weight. The reminder of what the difference between them actually was.

Adrian went down on his third attempt to reverse it.

He hit the stone. Didn't get up.

Breathing. Conscious. Finished.

I stood over him and made the decision I'd already made before I walked into this courtyard.

"Crescent Pack." My voice carried without effort. "This Alpha forfeited his position the moment he chose poison over honor. His authority is dissolved, effective now."

Adrian stared at me, stunned.

He had expected death.

My gaze found Anaiyah.

She stepped backward.

I noticed.

“No one is to touch her,” I ordered the guards. “No punishment. No questioning. No orders from Adrian.”

Her eyes widened.

I continued before she could react.

“Have the medical team examine every Omega who has been injured or neglected under Adrian’s administration.”

I wasn’t just removing Adrian from power but also dismantling the system that had allowed him to use it.

Orion approached as the crowd began dispersing.

“Taking Crescent will create consequences,” he murmured. “Rival Alphas will hear about it. Some will call it expansion. Others will call it weakness because you spared him.”

“Let them misunderstand me.”

His gaze shifted toward Anaiyah. “And what exactly are you planning to do about her?”

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing she doesn’t choose,” I corrected.

Anaiyah remained frozen as the pack dispersed.

I'd taken thirty-eight packs. I'd stripped Alphas of their authority and never once wondered whether the packs were glad to see me arrive. I'd walked into a hundred courtyards and walked out of every one of them without looking back.

Anaiyah stood twenty feet away with her jaw set and reasons not to trust any man who held power over her, and I was calculating my approach.

That had never happened before.

Not once.

Not in over a century.

She had absolutely no idea how significant that was.

And the worst part—the part I had no interest in examining—was that I'd given that order for her before I'd fully decided to. Before I'd reasoned through it. Before I'd done what I always did—weigh every decision against every consequence and move only when I was certain.

I hadn't been certain.

I'd simply been unable to imagine leaving her unprotected in a pack that had treated her survival as acceptable damage.

And I was the man she had slept beside only hours ago.