Chapter 11 #2
Three predators have found me. Three have let me pass.
The fourth hunter doesn't give me a choice.
The attack comes from upwind—a deliberate choice that means he wanted me to smell him coming. Wanted me to know what was hunting me.
Jax hits me from the side like a freight train.
We go down in a tangle of limbs and fur and fangs. He's shifted fully—a grey wolf with ice-chip eyes and teeth that snap inches from my throat. His weight pins me to the ground, and I feel his hot breath on my face, smell the rage coming off him in waves.
He's not playing. This isn't a test.
He's actually going to kill me.
I get my arm up just as his jaws come down, and his teeth sink into my forearm instead of my throat. Pain explodes up my arm, white-hot and nauseating. I scream—can't help it—and the sound echoes through the forest like a dinner bell.
Jax shakes his head, and fresh agony shoots through torn muscle. Blood runs down my elbow, hot and slick. I'm losing too much. I'm in trouble.
Then something else hits us—a blur of dark fur and fury.
Declan.
He slams into Jax with enough force to send both wolves tumbling away from me. I scramble backward, cradling my bleeding arm, and watch in horror as alpha and beta collide in an explosion of violence.
Finn's wards didn't stand a chance against the mate bond—not when Declan felt my terror, my pain, through the connection we share.
Declan is bigger, but Jax is faster. They tear into each other with savage intensity—fangs and claws, snarls that sound like murder. Blood flies. Fur tears. The wet thuds of bodies hitting trees echo through the forest.
Declan gets his jaws around Jax's shoulder and rips. Jax howls and twists, his back claws raking deep furrows down Declan's side. They break apart, circle, crash together again.
This isn't dominance play. This isn't even a challenge fight.
This is personal.
Declan's fighting for me. Jax is fighting for his pack, his certainty that I'm a threat, his belief that killing me will save them all.
They meet in the center, rearing up on hind legs, jaws snapping for throats. Declan's size gives him advantage—he forces Jax backward, step by step, until they're against an old oak. Then Declan lunges, fast as a striking snake, and locks his jaws around Jax's throat.
Not biting down. Not yet. Just holding. Asserting dominance in the way wolves have for millennia.
Jax struggles. His claws score Declan's shoulders, his flanks, anywhere he can reach. But Declan doesn't let go. He holds on, pressing Jax harder against the tree, until finally—finally—Jax goes still.
Submission.
Declan releases Jax's throat and steps back. Both wolves are bleeding, panting, radiating aggression that makes the air taste like ozone. For a heartbeat, I think Jax will attack again.
Then Jax rolls onto his back, exposing his belly and throat.
Full submission. Total surrender.
Declan shifts back to human form in a ripple of power, standing over his beta with blood running down his chest and fury in his eyes. "You tried to kill my mate."
Jax shifts too, staying on the ground, still in that vulnerable position. "I thought...”
"You thought wrong." Declan's voice could cut steel. "You let your fear override your loyalty. You forgot who leads this pack."
"I'm sorry." Jax's voice cracks. "I was wrong. I see it now. She didn't run. She didn't call for help. She fought." He looks past Declan to me, and I see the shift in his expression—not acceptance, exactly, but the beginning of respect. "She's stronger than I gave her credit for."
"On your feet."
Jax rises slowly, still radiating submission, and moves toward me. I tense, my arm throbbing with each heartbeat. He's still dangerous. Still unpredictable.
But he stops three feet away and drops to one knee. Then he holds out his hand, palm up.
I stare at him. At Declan. Back at Jax.
"He wants you to accept his pledge," Declan says, his voice still hard but some of the fury draining away. "It's his choice. You can refuse."
I look at Jax—at the beta who's hated me since the moment I arrived, who just tried to kill me, who's now kneeling in the dirt offering loyalty.
Slowly, carefully, I extend my good hand and place it in his.
His fingers close around mine, warm and rough. Then he lifts my hand to his face and rubs his cheek against my knuckles, scent-marking me in the way wolves claim pack.
When he speaks, his voice is rough but clear. "I was wrong. About you. About everything." He lifts his gaze to mine. "I'm yours. However you'll have me. I swear it."
A bell chimes somewhere in the forest—Finn's signal that the hour is up.
I completed the trial.
Blood-streaked, exhausted, with my arm still bleeding, but I survived.
"Good," I manage, my voice shaking. "Because I'm going to need your help to walk back. I don't think I can make it on my own."
Jax's expression shifts to concern. "Your arm...”
"Hurts like hell," I admit. The adrenaline is wearing off, and the pain is making my vision blur at the edges. "Declan, I think I need...”
The world tilts. Not passing out—not quite—but the forest swims around me, and my legs don't want to hold my weight anymore.
Strong arms catch me before I can fall—Declan's, warm and solid and safe. "I've got you," he murmurs against my hair. "You did it, sweetheart. You proved yourself. Now let me get you patched up."
"The hunt...”
"Is over. You won." He lifts me carefully, mindful of my injury. "Though next time my sister suggests something insane, I'm locking you both in separate rooms."
I laugh weakly, then wince as the motion jostles my arm. Through the bond, I feel his rage at Jax warring with pride in me, fear mixing with love so fierce it makes my chest ache.
"Next time," I mumble, letting my head rest against his shoulder, "remind me that proving myself to wolves is a terrible idea."
"Noted." His voice rumbles through his chest, and I feel safe despite the pain, despite everything.
Behind us, Jax follows—no longer an enemy. And through the trees, I catch glimpses of the other three shifters, their forms already fading into the forest.
I close my eyes and let Declan carry me home.