Page 24 of Blood Fist

She was everything he’d been told an alpha should be. She didn’t need to posture or flap a fancy cloak, hell she didn’t even need to hold a weapon. There was lethality in her muscles, intelligence in her eyes, and a surprising softness beneath it all.

Brune dwarfed her in size and yet he knew, without a doubt, that he would submit to her. She was the alpha he could only dream of being. On those long nights where he huddled on the curb, too afraid to sleep because the leather he’d chewed on earlier wasn’t nearly enough to fill his cramping stomach, he would look up at the crumbling walls and wonder what kind of alpha he would be. Would he be strong? Would he be smart? Would he be kind?

He wasn’t any of those things. But neither was General Bargrave, nor his battalion commander. In fact, he didn’t know many alphas that were. Glancing down at the chipped blade on his hip, he wondered if he would ever get the chance.

Niklas jerked beside him, and he looked up, eyes narrowing in the gloom. After a long moment, the shadows of the fire behind them coalesced across a person walking out of the darkness.

Withdrawing his sword, he dropped into a defensive position before the person's features materialized.

The man was tall and slender, hair hanging over pale eyes. His strides were assured, right hand resting on one of two swords he had strapped to his hips. Wearing leather pants, a thick belt, and a loose linen shirt, he was clearly a Clansmen.

Clenching his fingers around the hilt of his sword, Brune stepped forward. “Halt!”

Those cool eyes swept over him. “My name is Corric Tylock. I would like a meeting with General Bargrave to negotiate the terms of my surrender.”

Brune’s mouth dropped open. A quick glance at his partner confirmed that Niklas was pale, eyes wide. Turning back to the intruder, he had to admit he had the unique air of nobility. He’d never seen King Krait, but everyone knew about his distinctive eyes.

This man had them. Who else would claim to be the prince? And that man, Osmond, said he was a fine swordsman. Judging by this man’s lethal grace and the fine blades at his side, he was indeed skilled.

“If you are the prince,” Brune started. “Why would you come to surrender?”

Corric swallowed, lifting his chin. “I will not have bloodshed on my account.”

That made Brune lower his sword. He remembered the flash of fang Chief Restrina showed at the mere notion of Corric being in the same room as General Bargrave. And now he wanted to surrender?

General Bargrave said he was promised the prince. The general had a reputation, one only spoken inhushed whispers by cowed alphas and fearful betas and omegas. His harem was ever expanding, not because he was wealthy enough to house them, but because they often didn’t survive long. Rumor around the barracks was that Bargrave had retired, so they were surprised to see him leading a march. The man had enough wealth and prestige to quietly live out his days. It made no sense as to why he had marched back into service.

Unless King Krait was going to give him something. Something more than money.

Looking past the prince’s cool exterior, Brune saw his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. Not as a threat, but to keep it from trembling. His eyes were wide, scent carefully hidden. It probably reeked of fear.

“You know they’ll give you to him,” he whispered, ignoring the shocked look Niklas shot at him. “Bargrave he…you don’t know what he’ll do to you.”

Corric’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I do know.”

“Then why–”

“I told you,” His voice wavered slightly. “The people of the Stone Blade took me in. They housed me, educated me, fed me. They gave me everything. And I will not be the reason they lose their lives.”

Brune’s questions were finally answered. Corric wasn’t a captive. He was given fine swords and freedom. A pack. A home. And now he was here to die for it. Or worse.

But…could he stop the battle before it even began? Could Brune take this prince, this sacrifice for the greater good, to General Bargrave and spare the Clansmen, and his fellow soldiers, lives? Wouldn’t that be the right thing to do?

“I’m not here to argue with sentries,” Corric snapped, his bravado a thin shield for his anxiety. “Either take me to General Bargrave or step aside.”

Brune parted his lips to speak, but found he had nothing to say. He didn’t know what to do. Neither decision felt right.

Corric huffed and made to step between them when Niklas cracked his sword hilt down on the prince’s head. The omega crumpled to the ground between them.

They blinked down at the prince.

“I’m sorry!” Niklas squeaked, dropping his sword. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt him, but he was going to—and I didn’t want General Bargrave to—he was so determined!” he rambled, teeth chattering.

Brune couldn’t breathe. “Did you just…did you just knock the Crown Prince of Kaledoneaout?”

Niklas whined, his hands shaking as he bit into his knuckles. “Is he dead?”

Brune checked his breathing. “No…no he’s alive…” which probably won’t make a difference when they’re beingskewered.On the bright side, both the Clansmen and the soldiers might finally unite under the goal ofkilling them.