Page 70 of Bad Blood Panther

He wanted him to know his father fought for him with everything he had.

The clan had filled the bleachers, having picnics while they waited to cheer their heroes on to victory, otherwise known as tearing Xander into bloody pieces. Xander could see the fighters off to his left, in a small enclosure between the tents. Three of them.

They were already in cat form, pacing, snarling, working themselves up into a killing rage, glaring at him with baleful eyes ranging from yellow to bright green.

The brighter the green, the crazier they were. And they were all bigger than he was.

The crowd noise died down, as they realized the show was about to start.

“Kneel before the alpha,” his guard boomed, smacking him to get his attention.

Xander laughed. “Fuck that,” he said, looking up at Raines. “He’s not my alpha, and even if he was, I wouldn’t fucking kneel. Any alpha needs that shit to keep his crew’s respect is a lame-ass wussy.”

The crowd booed. Xander gave them the double middle fingers. There was a ripple of surprise—maybe even a tiny bit of respect.

Yeah. This was not the old Alex they were dealing with, motherfuckers. He saw Alton’s jaw clench in anger. Score. He still had the ability to piss people off.

“Where’s my son, Raines?” Xander said.

Alton gave a fake laugh. “Brandon is not your son. You tried to steal the heir to my throne. You have failed, and you will pay the price. My warriors will prove the falsehood of your claims on your body. This is a Truth Challenge.”

What the fuck? “Wait, okay now, let me get this straight,” Xander said. “Suddenly, making pronouncements and winning a totally rigged brawl that you’re not even fighting in makes the truth different than what it is? Ever heard of DNA? No wait, that’s science and takes brains to understand.” Alton’s face darkened as Xander went on. “Shit, man, I may be crazy and homicidal, but at least I’m not delusional.”

The guard backhanded him. “You will show respect for the alpha!”

Xander snorted. “Um, no. Not unless he comes down here and fights me himself, the pussy. And probably not even then.”

But Alton managed to keep his temper, although it was obvious he was pissed.

He managed another laugh. “I’m a proven warrior, a leader of my people,” he said. “You’re no one. To earn the honor of challenging me, you must first prove your worthiness. If you can best my top three warriors, then I’ll fight you.”

“Oh,” Xander said. “So you get the others to soften me up, wear me down, and then you fight? Pardon me while I pause to admire your bravery. Okay, wait, no.”

Alton waved his hand negligently. “You will be healed in between. If you survive.”

Yeah, maybe. Even if Alton’s Healer had magical healing abilities—which a few did—Xander knew one person could only do so much at a time. That’s why they saved the magic for life-threatening injuries, and why a crap ton of Alton’s warriors were still dead.

Not enough mojo to go around. He doubted they’d waste it on him.

“After your death,” Alton went on, “My two sons will be raised to be strong leaders and warriors. One day, the strongest of them will be alpha after me.”

Oh, fuck no, fuck no, fuck no. No way was he leaving his son here to not only be raised by crazies, but to fight his so-called brother one day for the privilege of leading them.

His cat gave a furious snarl.

“I challenge you right now, asshole,” he said. “You don’t get my mate, and you don’t get my son. So come down off that ridiculous thing that looks like a cheap knockoff of a movie prop, and fight.”

Alton ignored him. “Enter the arena!” he bellowed.

Fine. If that’s how it was going to be… He shook off the guards and walked into the arena on his own. He scanned the stands, looking once more for Jenny.

There she was. Over on the right, in the front row, flanked by more guards. He hated for her to have to watch this, but he was glad she was there. Their eyes met, and she gave the tiniest smile, and a little nod.

He didn’t need any more than that. He could hear the words in his heart. You can do it. I love you.

He nodded back, rage pulsing through him, but his eyes dry. Forever and always.

Then he heard a tiny voice from off to the left. “Xan-Daddy!”

Shit. They’d brought his two-year-old son to see this bloodbath.

The human in him hated the fuck out of it. The shifter in him wanted to make his son proud.

He gazed at Brandon, and lifted his fist. Brandon lifted his in imitation.

Hot rage rose up in Xander. He was going to kill them all.