Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Raven
The darkness clung to me like oil.
I knew I was dreaming even as the nightmare played out. It was a nightmare I had so often, yet one that sent chills through my body. The memory of that fateful night.
Flames roared around me, devouring wood and flesh alike. There was that sharp stench of burning fur. My mother’s voice cut through the fire, ragged and desperate as she urged, “Run, Raven! Run!”
Her scream fractured into echoes as my feet pounded the dirt. My lungs burned. My heart tore itself apart inside my chest. I looked back and saw my father fall, his silhouette collapsing in the chaos, blood blooming across his chest.
There was never any face in my dreams, none besides the faces of my parents as they fell. Just shadow and death.
And then came the silence.
The deep, deep hollow silence where my wolf should have been, there was only an empty ache. A deafening, gaping absence.
I kept running.
But in this nightmare, as I ran, something shifted. I felt a presence ahead. It was steady, powerful, and strangely calming.
It was Damien.
He stood there, hand outstretched. “I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and certain. As I reached for him, I felt my wolf stirring inside me, rising. A surge of strength flooded through me, steadying my steps, pushing me forward.
I woke with a gasp as well, my ruffled and torn clothes drenched in cold sweat, the dream still clinging to me.
The cell was still dark and damp. It was still real. That part wasn’t a dream. I was actually in the Ivory Moon Pack dungeons.
My hand flew to my belly. My baby kicked immediately, like it was answering to the soft presence of my hand over my belly. Like it was saying, I’m here. I’m still with you.
I pressed my palm harder, grounding myself. The ache in my bones reminded me that I hadn’t imagined any of this. I was locked in the dungeons beneath the Ivory Moon Pack house. Ivy had made sure of that.
I sat up slowly, the stone floor unforgiving beneath me. My joints were stiff and sore from a night without any good sleep. The air was rank with mildew and the nausea-inducing scent of rot, but beneath it was something worse—expectation.
Today was the duel.
Today, I was supposed to die.
And then, like fate itself was mocking me, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The door creaked open, and two guards entered, their faces blank, their leathers creaking with each movement. The scent of steel and musk filled the air. Behind them, a streak of morning light bled through the grated window.
One reached toward me.
“Don’t touch me,” I said hoarsely, pushing myself upright with shaking arms. “I’ll walk.”
They hesitated, then stepped back. I followed them into the corridor. Each step jarred through my pelvis, pain radiating from my lower back to my knees. I gritted my teeth and soldiered right through it. I wouldn’t let them see weakness.
Something stirred deep in my chest.
I did not want to be blindly optimistic, but it felt almost like my wolf. It had been strange, and honestly probably imagined, but I had been feeling a familiar pulse of strength lately.
Still distant. Still muted. But…present.
It wasn’t the full surge I remembered from childhood, but there was a whisper now, a soft breath beneath my skin.
The hallway was dimly lit, torches flickering along the walls. Every scent felt sharper…ash, pine, old blood. My pulse drummed louder with every footstep as we neared the open square. I could already hear the voices above us, hundreds of pack members gathering for the spectacle.
My hand hovered over my belly again. Another kick. Stronger. I whispered to the child inside me, even as I had no idea how I was going to keep the promise I was making, “We’re not dying today.”
The square erupted into noise as I stepped into the light. The sky above was streaked with gold and steel gray. The early sun glinted off weapons and armor. Stone bleachers wrapped around the courtyard, packed with wolves in every form…cheering, jeering, watching, hungry for blood. My blood.
Some sneered. Some laughed.
“She’s going to fold in minutes.”
“Wolfless and pregnant? What a joke.”
Their words stabbed like needles, but I kept walking. I’d heard worse. I’d lived through worse.
At the far end of the square stood Ivy, looking like something out of a war painting.
Her blood-red hair was braided tight, her leathers fitted perfectly, polished boots planted wide.
Her beta wolf energy radiated in waves, confident and vicious.
She waved at the crowd like a celebrity arriving at a coronation.
This wasn’t a duel to her. This was an execution…my execution. Theater.
The elders sat high on their stone platform. Elder Dawson and Aunt Tiffany sat at the center, all of them cloaked in gray and silence, offering no protest to this mockery of justice. My gaze locked on Ivy’s, and at the sight of me, pregnant and weary, she grinned.
Then I remembered every moment of my exile. I remembered leaving the pack. I remembered doing everything I could to stay out of sight. I remembered hiding. Never again.
The officiator’s voice rang out across the courtyard. “Raven Nightbane, Ivy Nightbane…by ancient law and the rights of the bloodline, this duel shall commence. No intervention. No aid. Death or submission determines the outcome.”
Ivy’s claws slid out with a hiss like she had been waiting years to hear those words. And then she lunged. Her body was a blur of movement, faster than I remembered. Her claws slashed toward my face. I ducked, barely missing the blow. The wind from her swipe grazed my cheek like ice.
She laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?”
She came again. I moved left. Pain lanced through my lower back. The weight of my belly shifted hard to one side, throwing off my balance. I stumbled. Her fist slammed into my ribs. I dropped to a knee.
“Poor runt,” she purred, circling me. “Look at you. Heavy, broken, wolfless. You should’ve stayed gone.”
I spit blood onto the ground and rose, more slowly this time. Every inch of me ached. My vision blurred, but something flared inside. Not rage. Not pride. Just pure purpose. The pain radiating from my ribs reminded me that I was fighting for two lives today.
She lunged again, and I instantly remembered one of Damien’s lessons. “Use your environment as a weapon,” he’d always said.
I dropped low, scooped a fistful of sand, and flung it hard into her face. She shrieked, stumbling back. I lunged immediately, slamming my fist into her jaw. Bone cracked. Blood flew.
The crowd gasped. A few even cheered. Ivy recovered fast. Her lip was already sealing.
“No more games,” she snarled. She came at me full force, tackling me to the ground.
We hit hard. Her claws raked across my chest. I screamed. Pain flared. Her canines snapped inches from my throat. I struck out blindly, catching her with an elbow to the side of the head, and then I rolled free.
She caught my ankle and pulled me back.
Another slash. My shoulder lit up with pain. Then another and another. I screamed as her claws tore through my side, hot blood soaking my clothes.
“You’re done,” she growled.
But I wasn’t.
I crawled to my feet, barely able to breathe. My body trembled, slick with sweat and blood. My hand rested on my belly.
And then she spoke, her voice was a whisper full of poison.
“You know, it was almost this easy when we killed your parents.”
I froze. I turned. “What?”
She smiled widely, blood between her teeth. “My father. My mother. We took your pack and your legacy. You were too scarred to remember, but I watched them rip your parents apart.” Images came surging into my skull: images of fire, images of blood, images just like the ones from my nightmares.
My mother’s scream. And then, for the first time, I saw a face in those images, a face that wasn’t my father’s as he lay lifeless or my mother’s as she screamed in horror.
I saw Ivy’s face, watching it all. It felt like something exploded inside me.
Rage…deep, blinding, and absolutely unadulterated, ignited with bone-rattling force.
It was them: my uncle, my aunt, my cousin.The people I considered family over the past decade. They had taken my parents from me. They had killed them.
The anger made my vision turn red. They would pay. All of them. I would make sure of it. I swore it.
And with that furious resolve, something sparked to life in me. My bones lit with fire. My muscles trembled under pressure. Heat raced beneath my skin, stretching it to the edge. A growl rumbled in my throat.
No…a howl.
My body arched. Pain and power slammed into me all at once. I felt my insides shift, adjusting around the child I carried, instinctively protecting it and cradling it, as something ancient and primal surged to the surface.
Then I was on all fours. Gasps tore through the crowd. I had shifted. For the first time since the night my parents were killed, my wolf was back.
Silver fur gleamed in the sun. My claws sank into the sand. Strength flooded my limbs.
And Ivy was directly in my sights. She staggered back, eyes wide with shock. “That’s… that’s impossible!”
I didn’t waste a second. I lunged.
She shifted instantly, leaping to meet me, the space between us closing in a blink. It felt like every breath, every heartbeat had led to this moment, and by the Goddess, every fiber of me burned with the need to tear her apart.
Time froze, and then we collided. A storm of fury and fur, we slammed into each other. My claws struck first, sending fast and brutal strikes raking across her head. She reeled, blood pouring from the gash. But she didn’t falter. She roared and came at me again.
This time, her claws cut into my back, and searing pain tore through me. But just as the pain settled, I felt a familiar sensation—the wild, exhilarating rush of my wolf healing. The wounds closed almost instantly.
She was healing, too, but the panic in her eyes gave her away. She knew now that she had no advantage over me.
She lunged again, jaws snapping for my neck. But I was quicker. I circled her fast and clamped my jaws down on her tail. Her yelp rang out as her blood coated my tongue.
I pounced, raking my claws down her back, again and again, deep enough that the wounds couldn’t heal immediately. Crimson soaked the sand beneath us. Her yelps only fueled my rage, and I slashed faster and harder.
She managed to land a blow to my leg, and I staggered back, just long enough for her to spring forward. But I moved again. My teeth sank into her neck. I shook hard, then flung her away like dead weight. She crashed to the ground with a sickening crunch. Her howl of pain pierced the air.
I stood over her, slammed my paw against her throat, and let out a victorious, earth-shaking howl. She was beaten. Overpowered. Her body twisted and shifted back into human form. Bloodied and barely conscious.
I shifted, too, mostly. Still half-shifted, claws and fangs bared, I grabbed her limp form by the collar and yanked her upright.
The crowd was chanting now…“Finish her!” One swing, and it would be done. I stared down at her. She sobbed. “Do it.”
But I didn’t move. Because I wasn’t her. Because I wasn’t them. I lowered my hand.
“You will get what you deserve, but only after you and your treacherous parents face a fair trial.”
I stood slowly.
“The duel is over,” I said, loud enough for the elders to hear. “I choose to spare her life.”
Silence fell. Then there were murmurs of surprise, and the entire pack gathered, showing respect.
I turned to walk away, to move toward the elders and the crowd, but just as I took a step, I felt a sudden, searing pain across my leg. I fell, gasping, blood spraying as Ivy slashed my thigh from behind, her claws gleaming with betrayal.
“You should’ve finished me,” she hissed.
I screamed in rage and pain.
She was right.