Dominic’s breathing had gone ragged, his movements too precise, too contained, a man fighting not just an opponent, but himself. Theodore fought dirtier, less disciplined, but his rage gave him strength. They were both panting now, sweat breaking on their skin, the air thick with the scent of wolves on the edge of shift.
“Enough,” Dominic ground out, but his voice was low and dangerous.
“She’s put you in danger, Dominic, you just can’t see it!” Theodore spat, lunging again.
Dominic caught him square in the chest, forcing him back against the bar hard enough to make the glasses jump. The noise was deafening in the empty tavern, rage and fury colliding until Layla’s pulse felt like part of it.
“Please!” she cried, grabbing at Dominic’s arm.
He shook her off, sending her stumbling backwards.
Theodore’s lip was split, blood bright against his teeth. He laughed once, a sharp, disbelieving sound, and swung again. Dominic ducked the blow, countered with a push that sent them both staggering through the back door and out into the cold.
Layla followed, breath ragged, the fog hitting her lungs like ice.
The courtyard was half-lit, pale dawn filtering over slick cobblestones. The smell of salt and smoke hung between the walls.
Dominic and Theodore circled each other, slow, deliberate, shoulders heaving.
They didn’t speak now. There was nothing left to say.
Theodore moved first. He feinted right, then lunged left, catching Dominic in the shoulder. Dominic absorbed it, turned, and drove him backward. They slammed against the wall, grappling for leverage.
Layla pressed her back to the doorway, throat tight, the bond burning hot beneath her skin. Every strike echoed through her bones, her heart stumbling to keep pace with Dominic’s.
Theodore wrenched free, shoved Dominic off, and both men staggered apart, chest to chest, panting.
“You finished?” Dominic rasped.
Theodore wiped the blood from his mouth and came at him again.
They collided hard enough to knock the wind out of both. Dominic caught him by the front of his jacket, shoved him back a second time, and finally, finally, Theodore stilled, chest heaving, fury dissolving into something smaller and meaner.
They stood like that, neither moving, breath ghosting in the cold.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence.
Julian. He jumped up the stone stairs to the small courtyard, face grim. “Enough.”
That single word cut through the courtyard like a blade.
Both men froze, still panting, still bristling. The sound of the tide against the docks filled the silence that followed.
Julian stepped forward, eyes sharp and cold. “Are you both done humiliating yourselves, or shall I fetch an audience?”
Theodore turned away first, dragging a hand through his hair. Dominic stayed where he was, chest rising and falling too fast, gaze fixed somewhere on the stones between them.
Julian looked from one to the other. “Good,” he said softly, shoving at Theodore’s shoulder. “Go cool off. Now.”
Theodore scowled, turning to Layla, wiping the blood from his lip. With a sneer, he turned as if to leave, the moment bleeding slowly into stillness. Layla exhaled, shaky and shallow. Julian let out a small, near-silent breath. Dominic was still on edge, watching Theodore go with narrowed eyes.
Layla opened her mouth to thank him, to yell at him, she didn’t know what.
But the words never came.
Because Dominic swayed.
It happened so suddenly, she didn’t understand what she was seeing until it was over. His eyes flicked once toward her, that strange, soft flicker of recognition, and then his knees buckled, his body dropping like a marionette with its strings cut.
