CHAPTER THREE

“Don’t tell me you’re done yet, Nic!” Marcel called out.

There was a growl from within the dark cabin Nicholas had been thrown into, then the Alpha werewolf burst out, leaping a long distance and pouncing on Marcel.

They tumbled and rolled, but it was Marcel who came on top, pinning Nicholas. With a clawed hand, the enemy Alpha created a deep gash on Nicholas’ chest.

Nicholas roared in pain and flailed his limbs till Marcel was pushed off. The enemy Alpha had also been injured, a glaring claw mark showing beneath his ripped clothes.

The difference between both Alphas was, Marcel was already healing. The stronger a werewolf, the quicker their ability to heal.

It was getting clearer who would come out the winner of the duel.

Jon, who had shifted into his wolf form, started towards the fighting Alphas. Darius and the others moved as well, with the aim of stopping the Beta.

Nicholas snarled at his brother. It was a clear instruction. Don’t intervene.

Jon obeyed, ducking his head. That was the way it was when Alphas fought against each other. It was a battle for dominance, with their pride, positions, and most times their lives on the line.

No one was allowed to intervene.

“Enough of this, Nicholas,” Marcel said, as though he was tired. “I don’t want to have to kill anyone to prove a point. Yield, now.”

Nicholas had no intention of doing that. Injured and bleeding, he lunged for Marcel. The eyes of his enemy glowed a red much brighter than Celia had seen any Alpha’s glow.

Marcel maneuvered himself so that he locked Nicholas’ head beneath his arms with incredible strength. He flung Nicholas across what was now a battlefield, and before Celia’s Alpha would even gather himself, Marcel was upon him again.

Marcel grabbed Nicholas’ hind limb and threw him against a tree. Something snapped. Celia was certain Nicholas had broken something on that impact, because after that, he wouldn’t get up.

Marcel reached him and pulled him by his tail back to the center of the settlement. The enemy Alpha gritted his teeth and latched onto Nicholas’ tail with both hands. He swung one way, lifting and slamming Nicholas on the ground. He repeated the action two more times.

It was awful to watch, but no one could do a thing.

Celia felt her chest tighten, like something was wrapping itself around her heart. What was it? Fear? Grief? What the hell was going on with her in a moment like this?

She had the urge to yell for Marcel to stop. Not just that. She felt the urge to go to him. She felt the urge to hug the man who was beating her Alpha to a pulp.

Nicholas, strength sapped from him, shifted back to his human form. Even then, naked and bleeding everywhere, he tried to make it to his feet.

He still wanted to fight. He managed to get to his knees, and he glared at Marcel.

Marcel crouched in front of Nicholas. “What is more important to you?” he asked. “Your pride as an Alpha, or your life?”

Nicholas’ breathing was unsteady. Healing would take too long, considering the damage he had been dealt. His voice was hoarse as he spoke, “This fight is to the death.”

“That’s not how I do things. I like to keep the Alpha’s alive so they keep my pack alive while I’m gone.”

Nicholas looked around, eyes falling on the Alphas Marcel had tamed. He scoffed. “I’d rather die.”

Marcel sighed. “I suppose in your case it is different. You have no Luna or pups to live for, like Darius and the others here.” He rose to his feet and pulled back. “Still, you have a chance to live. Be wise. Take it.”

Nicholas snarled and lunged at him.

“As you wish,” Marcel muttered, just before his hand sank through Nicholas’ chest, and pulled out the Alpha’s heart.

Jon howled, his pain resonating within each pack member.

Something essential had died within them. It was the link they had to the authority they had obeyed for years. That link had been permanently severed.

Eyes turned from Nicholas’ carcass. It was done. He was defeated.

Jon did not acknowledge this. He charged recklessly for Marcel.

“If you wish to join your Alpha, I will make you another example,” Marcel said, his eyes glowing.

Just before Jon would reach him, Indra intercepted and pushed him off his path, ending up with Marcel’s hand in her chest.

With one pull, he could rip out her heart.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, staring disappointedly at the Beta female.

Blood leaking from her mouth, Indra managed to say, “Don’t kill him.”

Jon quickly shifted to his human form. He kept a small distance from Marcel, fear in his eyes for his mate. “Let her go.”

“Hm…” Marcel looked from Jon to Indra. “I see. She’s your mate.”

Indra coughed blood.

“Let her go, please,” Jon begged, and Celia couldn’t believe it was the insufferable Beta she knew that had become so humble.

What kind of relationship did mates have that made them appear so vulnerable?

Even as she thought that, Celia felt pain in her chest. There was a burning sensation, and just as earlier, it felt like something was wrapping itself around her heart.

Something was happening to her.

“What is it?” Sheeva asked, turning her worried look from Indra to her daughter.

“I don’t know. My chest…” Celia looked at Marcel who was looking down at his chest and clawing lightly.

She took a step forward, drawn to him like the river to the sea. Whatever was happening to her, she was somehow certain it was happening to him too, even though he did a better job at ignoring it.

“If it will teach you a lesson, I should kill her,” Marcel said.

“No, stop, don’t,” Jon urged. “I yield.” He dropped to his knees. “Don’t kill her.”

Celia walked forward, through the crowd that was her pack. 

Her mother tugged her back. “Where are you going?”

Celia freed herself from Sheeva’s grip and kept advancing. Meanwhile, Marcel eyed Jon skeptically.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

His next intention was clear. He was going to rip out Indra’s heart.

“No!” Jon yelled.

“STOP!” Celia screamed, and it pulled Marcel’s attention.

It pulled everyone’s attention. She was standing in the open, staring at him, and he was staring back, wearing a perplexed expression.

Celia touched a hand to her chest. She finally understood the binding feeling. Her mother had described it to her countless times, but there was nothing like experiencing it.

Marcel pulled his hand from Indra’s chest, without her heart. His features shifted from perplexion to understanding. “You have got to be kidding me.”

That was Celia’s line.

Of all the werewolves in the world, she had become mates with him.