20: A Challenge Under the Moon

The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. For Kael, it was like waking up to find his entire circulatory system had been ripped out.

The next morning, acting on an anonymous tip backed by a mountain of irrefutable, systematically organized data, federal agents swarmed the offices of Apex Consolidated Holdings. The raid was the lead story on every news channel. Simultaneously, Ben Carter, armed with the same data, executed a series of devastatingly precise short-sells and asset freezes through offshore accounts, targeting every legitimate business connected to Kael. His commercial empire, built over years of violence and intimidation, crumbled into dust in less than twelve hours. The Iron Fist Brotherhood, implicated in the laundering scheme, found themselves in the crosshairs of a federal investigation, and their loyalty to a now-powerless Kael evaporated instantly.

Kael was crippled. His money was gone, his human allies had scattered, and his authority was in tatters. Jack had not just wounded him; he had gutted him in the world of men. And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

A cornered wolf is a desperate wolf.

That evening, a visitor arrived at the Sterling estate. It was not an assassin or a spy. It was a lone werewolf, his face a mask of grim resolve. He was an emissary. He carried no weapons, only a small, leather-wrapped parcel.

Marcus intercepted him at the gate, but Jack, sensing the man’s purpose, ordered him to be allowed to approach. They met on the front lawn, the same lawn that had been a battlefield just nights before. The sun was setting, painting the sky in bloody hues of orange and purple.

The emissary did not speak. He simply knelt, placed the parcel on the ground, and retreated, his eyes never leaving Jack’s.

Jack unwrapped the leather. Inside was a single, large, razor-sharp fang, its root stained with dried blood. It was a symbol as old as their kind, a message that transcended words. It was a formal challenge. A ‘Lunus Mortem’—a death duel under the full moon. The ancient law was absolute: one Alpha challenging another for territory and dominance. The stakes were everything. The loser forfeited their life, their pack, and their claim to the land.

To refuse was unthinkable. It was to declare oneself a coward, an outcast. Any claim he had to leadership would be void, and he would be considered fair game by any and every werewolf. Kael, stripped of his modern power, had reverted to the old ways. He was forcing Jack onto his home turf: a battle of pure, primal strength.

Catherine had watched the exchange from a window, her face pale. She met Jack in the foyer as he came inside, the bloody fang held loosely in his hand.

“What is it?” she asked, though she already knew. A cold dread was plain in her eyes.

“He’s called for a death duel,” Jack said, his voice calm. “Winner takes all.”

“You can’t,” she whispered, her hand gripping his arm. “There has to be another way. We can use the law, our resources…”

Jack looked down at her hand, then met her gaze. His golden eyes were steady, resolute. “Not for this. In his world, this is the only way. If I refuse, he wins. He will brand me a coward, and we will be hunted for the rest of our lives by others looking to claim his prize. I have to answer the challenge.”

His calm was more terrifying to her than any outburst of anger would have been. It was the calm of a man walking toward his own execution, or to his coronation. She couldn't tell which.

“Where?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“He sent a location with the challenge,” Jack said. “The highest point in the city. The rooftop of the OmniCorp tower. Tomorrow night. The full moon.”

The next day passed in a haze of tense preparation. Marcus ran drills with his men, securing the estate. Elara monitored all communications in the city, watching for any sign of a trap. Catherine and Ben worked tirelessly, consolidating the financial victory and creating firewalls to protect Sterling Industries from any further fallout. But all of it felt peripheral. The true nexus of their fate now rested on a single point in time and space: the rooftop, under the moon.

That night, an hour before he was due to leave, Jack stood in his room, dressed in simple black pants and a dark t-shirt. He was stretching, his muscles coiling and uncoiling like powerful snakes. He was centering himself, preparing for a battle that would be decided by instinct and ferocity.

The door opened. It was Catherine. She held a long, flat case in her hands. She said nothing, simply opened it on the bed.

Inside, nestled in black foam, was a combat suit. It was a dark grey, almost black, woven from a material he had never seen before. It looked like a high-tech polymer, flexible and lightweight, with reinforced plating over the chest, back, and joints.

“It’s a prototype from the Sterling Industries R&D division,” she explained, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s made from a carbon-nanotube weave, reinforced with a micro-filament mesh. It can stop a knife, and even a small-caliber bullet at a distance.” She reached in and touched the fabric. “I had them make one more modification. The micro-filaments… they’re a silver alloy.”

Jack looked from the suit to her face. It wasn’t a weapon. It was armor. A shield. Her way of fighting alongside him. It wouldn't make him invincible, but it was a tangible expression of her faith, her fear, and her resolve.

He shed his shirt and began to put it on. It fit like a second skin. Catherine helped him, her fingers securing the clasps and adjusting the plates. Her touch was methodical, precise, but he could feel the faint tremor in her hands. When she was done, she stood before him, her hands resting on the armored chest plate. She smoothed a lapel that wasn't there, a nervous, maternal gesture that felt incredibly intimate.

She looked up at him, her green eyes searching his. The fear was still there, but it was banked, controlled, replaced by a fierce, unwavering loyalty.

“Come back,” she whispered. It wasn’t a plea. It was a command.

He placed his hand over hers on his chest. “Always.”

She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was not passionate or desperate. It was a seal. A promise. A transfer of strength. It tasted of salt and fear and a love that was deeper and more complex than either of them had ever expected.

“Go,” she said, her voice firm now. “Go be the King, my Alpha.” She stepped back, her expression shifting into that of the untouchable CEO, the queen on her throne. “I will be waiting for your victorious return.”

The rooftop of the OmniCorp tower was a windswept expanse of concrete and steel, fifty stories above the glittering carpet of the city. The full moon was a perfect, luminous disk in the inky sky, bathing the scene in its cold, ethereal light.

Kael was already there.

He stood in the center of the rooftop, and he was no longer the man Jack had seen in photos. He had given himself over completely to the beast. He was massive, nearly eight feet tall, his body a terrifying hybrid of man and wolf. His skin was covered in coarse, black fur, his back hunched, his limbs elongated into powerful, claw-tipped weapons. His face was a nightmare of a wolf’s muzzle, filled with dagger-like teeth, but the eyes… the eyes were still human, and they burned with a mad, desperate hatred.

The wind howled, whipping at Jack’s combat suit as he stepped onto the roof. The air was electric, charged with impending violence.

Kael let out a low growl, a sound that was half-human, half-animal, and utterly chilling. “You took everything from me, intruder.”

Jack walked forward until they were thirty feet apart. He didn’t flex, he didn’t snarl. He simply stood there, a figure of calm, deadly potential against the backdrop of the moonlit city. He could feel the power of the full moon surging through his veins, a wild, exhilarating fire. It wanted to be unleashed.

He raised his head, and for a moment, his eyes glowed with that unmistakable, brilliant gold.

“You are mistaken,” Jack’s voice cut through the wind, clear and cold as ice. “I took nothing. You simply lost what was never truly yours to begin with.”

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. The battle for the city, for his family, for the legacy sleeping beneath his home, was about to reach its bloody conclusion. The hunt was over. The execution was about to begin.