“You’re awfully quiet, Conner,” Osyrius noted, hoping to draw this moment out longer. “No last words for your loved ones?”
I smiled and said, “If I have anything to say to Millie, I’ll say it directly to her face in bed later tonight. Now shut the fuck up and let’s do this.”
That did it. Mentioning Millie pissed off Osyrius exactly as I hoped it would.
“You’re going to regret ever meeting me, mutt,” the disgusting man snarled.
Osyrius ripped off his shirt, exposing more than just a genetically gifted body. If I was a betting man, I’d say that his physique stemmed from the same place his anger did: an unhealthy love of steroids and a father who never showed him any attention unless he was beating the shit out of his enemies.
Once again, I was grateful for Laurence and all he’d done for me. To think, even when raised in a pack, you could still be so lonely. If I ever was lucky enough to have children with Millie, I was going to tell them every day I loved them. And, if I had a son, he’d know his worth lay beyond his physical strength. He’d know what love was and not chase power and approval in its place, a truly fruitless existence, as the man in front of me was proving now.
Quickly removing my shirt, I kicked off my shoes so that my toes touched the earth and I could literally ground myself. Like it always did, I immediately felt calmer and more relaxed. I had no intention of drawing this match out. The first chance I got, I was going to end this feud once and for all.
The two of us backed up as Malcolm approached. Though he was anything but a neutral party, he was the alpha of his pack and clearly intended on running the show.
“There’s only one rule in blood sport,” he said, his booming voice reaching all the way to the back of the crowd. “You fight until one of you can’t fight any longer. Do you both understand?”
I nodded my response. Osyrius smiled with obvious delight and commented, “I’d have it no other way.”
“Very well,” Malcolm stated, moving to the edge of the crowd. “You may begin.”
Before his father had even finished talking, Osyrius lunged forward. Because I knew the man had no honor, I’d expected nothing less.
Sidestepping the attack at the last second, I let the weight and momentum of Osyrius’s heavy body work against him. When he had moved beyond me, I punched low and struck him in the kidney. As far as hits went, it was a finisher. However, Osyrius, used to beatings, and hopped up on God knows what cocktail of drugs, barely registered the blow. That wasn’t good.
Like an enraged bull, he spun about and charged me a second time. Again, I successfully maneuvered out of his path and avoided a brutal punch that, if it had landed, would have surely rung my bell.
We went on a bit like this. Osyrius chasing, and me letting him tire himself out, dodging and striking whatever exposed flesh I could get. I landed a few good hits, and, to my chagrin, so did he. One in particular got me in the ribs, instantly cracking one or two. Thankfully, they would heal before nightfall. Unfortunately, they were going to sting like a bitch every time my fist connected with my opponent.
After yet another blow to his kidneys, I could see the younger ware beginning to wane. He was a tough son-of-a-bitch, I’d give him that, but he was predictable as hell. Like most bullies, he wasn’t used to fighting fair. That worked to his disadvantage at present. Osyrius liked striking hard when someone least expected it and capitalizing on that surpriseattack by doubling down on their dazed, helpless body. When he was confronted by an opponent who employed strategy and counter measures, he proved himself to be an average fighter at best.
When Osyrius exposed his flank to me once again, I managed to hit him in that unfortunate organ a third time. As my fist squarely connected with the weakened region, I saw Logan, just beyond the man’s shoulder, grin. I don’t know if he was proud of me, or just hated the ware I was currently pummeling, but I didn’t imagine it. He was pleased.
This time, I didn’t wait for Osyrius to strike. I took the initiative and exploited his pain. Punching him in the jaw, he was momentarily blinded as I snagged his left arm, using it like a handle by which I turned him about in the opposite direction. It didn’t matter how much muscle you had. In this position, it took very little pressure to pop a man’s shoulder out of joint. So that’s what I did. Then, balling up my fist, I launched it straight into his ugly face, the force of which sent him spiraling backward.
Osyrius stumbled to his knees like a felled tree. Growling like the wounded animal he was, he tried to get back up, but continued to struggle on wobbly legs, his shoulder hanging unevenly at his side.
“Have I taught you nothing!” Malcolm screamed at his son. “Don’t embarrass your father with your weakness, boy! Get up and finish this like a man! If you don’t get up, I’ll kill you myself! No son of mine loses to a filthy mutt!”
I’d hated Osyrius from the moment I’d heard his stupid name, but seeing him helpless, wounded, and writhing in pain on the ground while his father derided him, wasn’t easy to bear.
Though I would have thought it impossible, Malcolm’s cruel words somehow managed to make me feel pity for my enemy. I’d thought I’d missed out on something irreplaceable when I’d lost my pack as a child. Turns out, I’d had everything I’d needed at Cascia House. I’d had Laurence. Osyrius, the prodigal son, had been the one who’d been truly abandoned. Sometimes the only thing worse than losing your parents, was having ones like Jenny and Malcolm.
Logan caught my eye from the crowd again. He was mouthing something very deliberately. It took a moment, but I slowly comprehended what he was saying.
Knife.
Something skidded past me then and landed not far from Osyrius’s bent form. The shiny object winked in the sun, and the desperate ware went to snatch it with his good arm. Because of Logan, I immediately understood I had to get to it first.
With speed and determination, I dove for the weapon a moment after my enemy. We scrabbled in the dirt, both trying to gain the upper hand. To my dismay, Osyrius snagged the handle and held it over his head to plunge it into my chest.
The sound of something brittle shattering up high caused the man to pause. He stared back at the house in disbelief. “What the fuck?”
Putting some distance between my opponent and myself, I saw the blur of a chestnut-colored pelt, followed by another midnight black one, flying through the air from the second story in a waterfall of broken glass. Both animals landed gracefully on the ground and bolted forward without breaking their stride.
Children in the crowd screamed and many began to gasp and lurch backward. Soon a path between the mansion and the arena was exposed, and the two wolves came stalking down it.
I didn’t have to see her change to know that she had. My mate had found her trigger. It was protecting her family. And I’d never been prouder of anyone in my entire life.
