Chapter 2

Emerson POV

The words sliced through the murmurs around me.

They weren’t the worst ones.

“Don’t look at her,” someone whispered urgently, too close to my ear.

“Snake-eyes bring bad luck.”

Another voice followed, lower, fearful.

“That’s why the Alpha hates her. You don’t stare at things like that and survive.”

My stomach twisted.

Several pack members turned, their glares sharpening. Some looked away quickly, like my eyes might infect them if they lingered too long. One of them bared his fangs and lunged forward, his steps heavy and deliberate.

Instinct screamed at me to shrink back.

If he reached me before the duel began, no one would stop him.

My heart thundered violently as I clamped my hands over my ears, my breath coming apart in uneven gasps. My wolf recoiled, curling in on herself.

Don’t let them see, she whispered. Don’t let them win.

“Enough.”

The command cracked through the tension like a whip.

“Step aside and prepare the field,” the stranger continued coldly. “Nicholas can’t afford to lose her. A wounded ego will only complicate things.”

The mockery was subtle but unmistakable.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching my fingers together until the world steadied. When I opened them again, the stranger stood less than ten feet away.

He was tall with solid muscle beneath a fitted shirt, his presence commanding without effort. He looked unreal, like someone carved for admiration, not mercy. Yet the coldness in his expression sent a chill crawling down my spine.

His eyes were dangerous.

They found mine.

Not with cruelty.

Not with hunger.

But with a calm, steady focus that made the noise around us fade.

Something warm settled in my chest, easing the tremor in my hands before I realized I had been shaking at all. My breath slowed just slightly, as if my body had decided on its own that standing near him was safer than anywhere else in the room.

That frightened me more than his threat ever could have.

Because Nicholas had never looked at me that way.

Like I was something worth keeping.

I didn’t understand why he was doing this. Why he had stepped in when no one else ever had. I took a hesitant step forward then froze.

My feet would not move.

I was terrified.

And somehow, against every instinct I had ever learned, I felt safer near him than I did near my own brother.

“There are four mounted riders against one,” someone jeered nearby. “Better grab knee pads while you’re at it.”

The stranger didn’t even glance their way. His jaw tightened slightly controlled restrained.

That calm unsettled me more than Nicholas’s rage ever had.

This is not heat, I told myself sharply as my thoughts betrayed me. I shook my head hard, forcing them away. Dangerous wolves didn’t announce themselves.

They destroyed quietly.

I had heard the stories. Girls claimed by strangers who vanished into the night. Families howling into the forest, never finding them again.

My chest tightened.

Still, I stepped forward.

“I have something to say.”

Nicholas shoved a helmet into my arms and knocked me aside with his shoulder.

“Step away, sister,” he mocked, savoring the word like it tasted bitter. “Or are you trying to embarrass me too?”

“I never asked for your help,” I said, my voice trembling but steady. “I appreciate it, but meddling will only make things worse.”

The stranger mounted his horse in one smooth motion.

“I’m not doing this for you.”

The words landed like a verdict, final and irrevocable, and for the first time I understood that whatever this was, it had never been Nicholas’s to control.

Then who?

Nicholas laughed loud ugly triumphant. He loved this. Loved my fear.

“You think you can beat me?” he taunted. “Be ready to lose.”

I retreated to the sidelines, curling inward. Watching from afar was better than standing between them better than giving Nicholas another excuse to break me.

The match began.

The stranger moved like he belonged on the field precise deliberate deadly calm. He wielded the mallet with practiced ease, his gaze sharp beneath the helmet.

Nicholas, on the other hand, charged recklessly, desperation bleeding through every movement.

My father had beaten him many times in business in sport in command. Nicholas had never forgiven him for it. Polo had become his obsession his proof that he deserved the Alpha title.

Losing now publicly would shatter him.

The game stretched far longer than usual. Fog crept over the field, blurring my vision tightening my chest with every passing minute.

Then,

“I didn’t lose,” Nicholas snarled. “I didn’t!”

Silence followed.

A whole team against one and he still failed.

Relief and terror collided violently inside me.

“The girl is mine.”

I turned sharply.

The stranger removed his helmet, sweat darkening his hair, his chest rising with controlled breaths. His gaze found me instantly unwavering.

Nicholas exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

I didn’t think.

I moved.

I stepped behind the stranger, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as my body sought shelter where my mind hadn’t yet caught up. My brother’s hostility burned too close too familiar.

The stranger didn’t push me away.

“Ryder,” he said calmly, without looking at Nicholas. “Loworth Ryder of New Orleans.”

The name rippled through the crowd.

My stomach dropped.

“Are you a warrior?” I whispered, my voice barely holding.

“You’ll find out soon,” he replied coolly. Then quieter meant only for me, “Prey eye.”

The word sent a strange ripple through me warm and unsettling all at once.

Nicholas turned away with rage without a backward glance already done with me like I had never mattered at all.

“Loworth Ryder of New Orleans claims Emerson,” the referee announced, after Nicholas’s sharp nod of approval.

Just like that, I was no longer theirs.

I stared up at Ryder’s cold hazel eyes, fear tightening my chest until it hurt to breathe.

I had escaped one cage,

only to step into another.