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She hugged me back, resting her cheek on the top of my head. “You’ve really helped me realize how much shit females have been sweeping under the rug. It’s time we finally make a stand.”

“Competitor fifteen, please enter the ring.”

I sniffed and grabbed a paper towel to blow my nose. “We should get back. I need to be out there supporting Julian.”

“Of course.”

Irefused to engage with the Conclave anymore for the rest of the Rite. I didn’t look at them, I didn’t speak to them. My eyes were glued on my pack, and I cheered after every one of Julian’s victories, sending him constant waves of love, affection, and support down the bond.

He only had five more to go, but I could see the exhaustion setting in. The kind of swings he had dodged without a problem in the beginning were now starting to land. In between each match he’d quickly drink his water and bring the handkerchief I’d given him to his nose, my scent reinvigorating him for the next round.

Eamon finally took off his tracksuit and started warming up. I didn’t think it was possible to look bigger without clothes on, but he was a beast of a male. The biggest one by far that Julian would be facing tonight.

The crowd gasped and I turned my attention back to the ring, where Julian had almost been pushed out. I stood, clasping my hands in front of me as my heartbeat tripled in speed.

He managed to stop himself just before touching the rope, and flipped his opponent out instead. I sat back down before the relief caused my knees to buckle and fail.

Four more to go. Another shot of love for Julian through the bond, and then to the rest of the pack. They had done a good job of compartmentalizing their emotions for me that day, not just in the bonds but with the neutral looks on their faces.

Cam’s white knuckles told me all I needed to know, though,so I sent a bump of affection for him. His eyes flashed towards me and the corner of his mouth lifted as he volleyed it back.

My heart metabolized the hit too quickly, and soon I was back to being a nervous wreck. I tapped my legs compulsively, biting my lip and cracking my knuckles. Eamon chuckled and then stood in front of me, blocking my view as he bent down and took my chin in his hand. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at him, but he didn’t seem to mind and spoke anyway.

“General Thorne has promised me first knotting if I knock your little boyfriend out in less than thirty seconds.” He looked behind him and scoffed. “I only need ten.”

When I didn’t reply, he lowered his lips to my ear, his fingers running along the silver collar. “How do you like your gift? It’s vintage—alphas back in the day made it to teach their bitches to heel. Seemed like something you might benefit from.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. Anger coursed through my body, my hands tingling with the need to take action. I typically abhorred violence, but in this case, I would gladly gut each and every member of this fucking Conclave and string them up by their intestines. “I don’t need to shift to kill you.”

“Competitor thirty-one, please enter the ring.”

Eamon smirked. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

He finally let go and resumed his stretching, watching every move Julian made. A right hook got him right in the jaw and I nearly screamed as his eyes glazed over for a moment, but then he shook his head and got right back into it, his chest heaving from the exertion. A one-two punch sent the male stumbling out of the ring.

Eamon winked and blew me a kiss. “Get ready, omega. I’m going to knot you right here in front of your old pack once I win, so they know exactly who owns you now.”

“Competitor thirty-two, please enter the ring.”

26

MARLOWE

Afew of the competitors had left after their particularly humiliating defeats, but most had decided to stay and see who the ultimate victor would be. The crowd now got to their feet and surrounded the ring, the yelling and cheering deafening in the temple hall.

Sweat clung to Julian’s copper-toned skin as he sucked in ragged breaths. Thirty fights had drained him of everything but sheer will, leaving him swaying on his feet. He blinked slowly, as though he could barely keep his eyes open.

Come on, Julian. Just one more.

Across from him, Eamon stepped over the rope and cracked his neck, massive shoulders rolling like a bear stretching after a long nap. The retired linebacker looked like a boulder with fists, his bulk intimidating under the low lights. There was a predatory gleam in his eye as he examined my exhausted alpha. He could end this with one punch, and we all knew it.

“All tapped out, pretty boy?” Eamon taunted, bringing his fists up slowly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take real good care of the omega. After a bit of corrective training, of course.”

The crowd whooped, sensing an easy victory for the Conclave. I made a careful study of each face cheering for them, so I knew who to go after once I could shift.

I couldn’t believe how easily “murder” had become the solution to all my problems, and I picked at the collar around my neck.

Julian didn’t take the bait to Eamon’s taunting; he simply raised his fists, his movements sluggish but steady.