Chapter 35 Midnight Duel
MIDNIGHT DUEL
EVAN
Motor oil and morning light filtered through the garage windows in equal measure, turning Gideon's workshop into something that felt almost peaceful. Two days since the ambush in the forest, two days of pretending that Calder's demonstration of savagery hadn't rattled me to my bones.
I bent over the truck's engine, focusing on the familiar rhythm of wrench against bolt, the satisfying click of pieces falling into place. Manual work that required attention but not thought.
Cal and Mason were sprawled on the floor nearby, supposedly organizing spare parts but mostly just arguing about whether the Seahawks had any chance of making the playoffs this year. Their easy banter filled the garage with the kind of comfortable noise that made everything feel normal.
“Hand me that socket wrench,” Gideon said from where he was hunched over the carburetor, silver hair catching light in ways that made him look older than his years. “The twelve millimeter, not the ten.”
I reached for the tool, muscles protesting the movement because apparently getting thrown around by supernatural predators left you sore in places you didn't know existed.
But the work felt good, normal, like maybe we could go back to being a pack that worried about engine troubles instead of existential threats.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number, which should have been my first warning. But curiosity won out over caution, the way it always did when you thought you were safe.
“I need some air,” I said quickly, stepping toward the garage door. “Be right back.”
“Everything okay?” Cal asked, looking up from a pile of bolts.
“Yeah, just need to take this call.”
I walked far enough away that their supernatural hearing wouldn't pick up both sides of the conversation, then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence stretched across the connection, long enough that I almost hung up. Then a voice I'd hoped never to hear again came through the speaker, low and amused and carrying the weight of threats wrapped in casual conversation.
“You and me, heir. Midnight. The clearing. Come alone.”
My blood turned to ice water, and I had to grip the phone tighter to keep from dropping it. Calder's voice, as clear as if he were standing right beside me, reaching through whatever supernatural means he'd used to get my number.
“How did you get this?” I managed, trying to keep my voice low while my wolf snarled warnings under my skin.
“You think borders and wards mean anything to me? I can reach you anywhere, little Alpha. You can't hide behind your pack forever.”
If Calder could reach me here, in the heart of pack territory, then nowhere was safe. No one was safe.
I stood there for another minute, trying to get my breathing under control before heading back to the garage.
“Who was that?” Gideon asked, looking up from the carburetor with eyes that missed nothing.
“Wrong number,” I lied, the words tasting like ash and betrayal. “Telemarketer.”
“Telemarketers don't usually make you look like you've seen a ghost,” Mason pointed out helpfully.
“Yeah, well, this one was selling cemetery plots,” I shot back, earning a snort of laughter from Cal.
Gideon's expression suggested he didn't believe me for a second, but he didn't press. Just nodded and went back to his work while I stood there trying to figure out how to breathe around the knowledge that Calder had just declared war in the most personal way possible.
We were lying in our bed, Nate curled against my side with his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat like it was his favorite song.
His breathing had evened out into the rhythm of sleep, but I could feel his awareness like a living thing, the way he monitored my tension even in unconsciousness.
Midnight approached with the inevitability of gravity, each tick of the clock feeling like a noose tightening around my throat. I stroked Nate's hair, memorizing the texture, the way it caught the moonlight streaming through the window.
If this went wrong, if I wasn't strong enough or smart enough or fast enough, this might be the last time I got to hold him.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered to the darkness, pressing a kiss to his temple that tasted like salt and regret.
Then I slipped out of bed with the careful quiet of someone who'd learned that waking a sleeping photographer was a good way to get interrogated about things you couldn't explain.
The air bit through my clothes as I made my way to the forest edge, sharp and clean and tasting like winter's first promise. My wolf stirred restlessly under my skin, sensing the hunt that was coming, the violence that would either free us from Calder's threat or destroy us both.
I shifted at the treeline, bones snapping and reforming as my human shape dissolved into something designed for killing. Golden eyes blazed in the darkness, and my enhanced senses picked up scents that painted the night in layers of meaning.
Fear. Anger. The metallic tang of violence about to happen.
But underneath it all, the familiar comfort of home, of territory that belonged to my family and my pack and everyone I'd sworn to protect.
I ran through forest that knew my scent, paws striking earth that had witnessed generations of Callahans learning to lead and fight and die for what mattered. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap, that going alone was exactly what Calder wanted.
But his threat rang louder than instinct: Everyone you love.
I couldn't risk them. Wouldn't risk them, not when facing Calder alone might be enough to end this war before it claimed anyone else I cared about.
The Moon Clearing opened before me like a wound in the forest, circular space where no trees grew and moonlight fell unobstructed by branches or leaves. Sacred ground that had witnessed pack ceremonies for generations, now about to be baptized in blood.
Calder waited in the center, but not in wolf form like I'd expected.
He stood on two legs, massive frame draped in shadows and moonlight, looking like some twisted parody of what an Alpha should be.
Scars crisscrossed his bare torso, telling stories of violence that went deeper than skin.
His eyes held the flat emptiness of a predator who'd forgotten what it meant to be human.
I shifted back to human form before stepping into the clearing, needing words before claws.
“So,” I said, voice carrying across the sacred space, “the mighty Calder Voss. Reduced to making prank calls and hiding behind rogues. How the legendary have fallen.”
His laugh was like breaking glass, sharp enough to cut. “Still trying to be clever, little heir? Still think words will save you when the real work begins?”
“I think words might explain why a once-respected Alpha is now playing lapdog to whatever master pulls his strings.” I moved closer, letting my wolf prowl just beneath my skin.
“What happened to you, Calder? What broke you so completely that you'd throw away everything you were for scraps of borrowed power?”
Something flickered in his eyes—rage, maybe, or the ghost of shame he'd thought he'd buried. “Borrowed power?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the clearing, the forest, the darkness that seemed to press closer around us. “Boy, you have no idea what real power looks like.”
“Then enlighten me.” I kept my voice level, casual, like we were discussing the weather instead of dancing around the violence that was coming. “Because from where I stand, it looks like desperation wearing a crown made of other people's bones.”
Calder's jaw tightened, and I caught the scent of his fury rising like smoke. Good. Angry opponents made mistakes.
“You want to know what broke me?” His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper, but it carried in the still air like a confession.
“Watching my pack starve while yours grew fat on the strongest territory in three states.
Watching my wolves leave in the night because they knew I couldn't provide what Daniel Callahan could offer.”
“So you decided theft was easier than leadership.”
“I decided survival was more important than pride!” The words exploded out of him, raw with years of accumulated bitterness. “Do you know what it's like to watch everything you've built crumble because you weren't born with a silver spoon and a forest full of magic at your back?”
There it was—the wound that had festered until it poisoned everything he touched. Calder hadn't fallen to evil so much as he'd drowned in his own inadequacy, and now he wanted to drag everyone else down with him.
“So you partnered with Silas Duvall,” I said, watching his face for confirmation. “A witch who wants to see every wolf in the Evernight Forest dead or worse. Real smart, Calder. Really shows that strategic thinking that made you such a legendary Alpha.”
His grin was all teeth and malice. “Silas wants the forest's power back where it belongs. I want your father's territory. We both get what we want, and your precious pack gets to learn what it feels like to lose everything.”
“And after? When Silas has corrupted every inch of sacred ground and turned the Evernight into his personal playground? You think he's going to let you keep breathing? You think a man who spent decades planning revenge is going to honor deals made with the wolves who killed his mother?”
For just a moment, uncertainty flashed across Calder's features. Like maybe, in the deepest part of his mind, he'd wondered the same thing.
“Silas needs me,” he said, but there was less conviction in it now. “My pack, my contacts, my knowledge of wolf politics. He's not stupid enough to throw away a useful alliance.”
“Silas needs you the same way a hunter needs bait,” I said, letting contempt drip from every word. “You're a tool, Calder. A weapon he's pointed at us because he's too much of a coward to face us himself.”