Page 27

R.I.O.T

T o someone looking in, you wouldn't guess the man sitting opposite me just lost five of his packmates.

Zander roars with laughter, a deep rolling sound that makes his whole body shake. His head is thrown back, and his fat, chunky hands, adorned with enough thick golden rings to make the sun blind, constantly slap down on his Beta’s—Logan's—shoulder.

I simply stare at the man, my ankle resting on my knee as I count down the seconds that button has before it pops off and takes out an eye. Why is he wearing such an ungodly tight shirt for a man his size?

The buttons—white, small, and pitifully outmatched—look like prisoners of war on the verge of surrender.

Each one is stretched taut, threading pulled thin, the fabric puckering dangerously around them.

Every laugh sends a ripple through his frame, and I see the poor buttons tremble, fighting to hold the line.

"I hear the lovely Gods throw mates at your feet like candy," Zander snickers, calming down only slightly. "Do you think the Goddess has finally grown tired of your insolence, Grand Arbiter?" He turns to Logan, joking. "Why else would she gift a man of your stature a mere runt?"

The Beta of Blood Moon doesn't look at his Alpha. He looks at me. Quite honestly, I’m still focused on the button on the fat Alpha, and while I ignore Logan, I can’t ignore the bleeding fear rolling off him.

Then it happens.

A sharp pop, like the crack of a slingshot, and one of the buttons launches itself into the air, freed from its impossible task.

For a split second, I watch its trajectory, a gleaming white blur hurtling straight for me, but I'm not worried.

A hand darts out, catching the button just inches from my face and lands in Kyrian's palm with a soft thud.

Zander's laughter comes to a sudden halt as Kyrian returns to his position standing on my left behind the couch.

"I win," Kyrian drawls, voice low, amused. "Poor thing hadn't lasted five minutes."

Seth growls on my right. "Fuck you, man. I was trying to be nice."

"And now you owe me a foot massage." Kyrian chuckles as he passes the button to me with a sharp flick.

I catch it and roll the button between my fingers, feeling the sharp ridge where the thread had been tugged too tight.

"I believe this is yours."

"I-I…"

Without really thinking, I flick the button back at him.

It sails through the air, spinning fast, and strikes him square on the cheek with a sharp snap.

His hand flies to his face, fingers pressing against the red line that appears there—a thin, angry slash just below his cheekbone.

A bead of blood wells up, startlingly bright against his pale, sweaty skin.

He stares at me, slack-jawed, his hand still clutching his cheek as though I'd just struck him with a knife instead of a plastic button. Then, the anger starts to creep in as he slowly rises from his seat.

"Sit. Down." My voice is low and sharp, brimming with barely restrained anger.

Zander collapses back onto the sofa where he was about to rise from, his body trembling as my anger reflects in my eyes, burning the fat bastard to his fucking soul.

"First, you dare enter my castle. Second, you sit before me and laugh like we're old friends." I plant both my feet on the floor and lean my elbows on my knees. "Then, you think you have a right to belittle my mate to my face!"

Umbra growls low, vibrating, watching the Alpha through my eyes. Each word is low and deadly. "Tell me, Zander, did you come here to die?"

Zander sits trembling, his shoulders hunched as if that could make him smaller, less noticeable. My home. My space. How dare he step into my home uninvited? My nostrils flare, and I have to remind myself—force myself—not to lunge, not to rip into him for his audacity.

Zander shuffles, his wolf bleeding through his eyes, whimpering and pleading for me to spare them, to forgive their insolence. But the flesh isn't so clever. "M-My pack will hunt you."

"Hunt me?" My words are low, guttural. "They'll call me Alpha before your body touches the ground."

Zander gulps deeply, his eyes flicking between his Beta and me. Sweat beads along his brow. A moment later, he lowers his head and growls through clenched teeth, "F-forgive my care- carelessness, Grand Arbiter."

The low growl in my chest spills out before I can swallow it, and the sound makes him flinch, his breath hitching into a shallow, trembling gasp. Good. Let him feel it. Let him understand, down to his soul, the gravity of what he's done.

"You have three seconds to explain yourself," I snarl, my voice a rumble of warning, low and rough like a storm cresting the horizon, "before I decide you're not worth the air you're stealing in my home."

Logan clears his throat, clearly sensing his Alpha is unfit— embarrassed —to continue this conversation.

"G-Grand Arbiter, I apologise our meeting isn't under more friendly circumstances, but as I'm sure you know, we wouldn't have intruded unless it was important." I run my tongue over my teeth. Unlike Zander, I can tolerate dealing with Logan.

Logan is young for a Beta; younger than me.

But he conducted himself well, from all the reports I had read.

Since my castle looks over what's left of the Earth, I have access and easy transportation to all corners of the world.

It means my castle is neutral ground for leaders to conduct business with each other.

Usually, I'm the one to give them access, but Zander thinks he doesn't need my permission .

"As you may have heard, General Dame Thorne of District 2 has killed five of our men." Logan gauges my reaction carefully, but I don't give him one. "We have reason to believe he's teamed up with a man who goes by the name Damien— a Nightwalker ."

"I've heard."

Seth informed me two days ago. I'm not sure what the General is doing, teaming up with a Nightwalker when he has the Gods in his corner. But the chances of Nightmare surviving it are getting slimmer each day.

Zander seems to have found his balls because he says, just barely, "I-I suggest that we f-form a temporary alliance. I'll provide you with the necessary resources to track General Dame, and I assume you'll find him with Damien. We'll both get what we want, Grand Arbiter."

"I have no interest in an alliance," I tell him, watching Zander reel back in surprise, "I'm simply going to warn you. Dame working with Damien will be a problem for me, and if I come across either of them before you, I will kill them."

My words anger Zander. "Dame killed my men. He is my prisoner!"

I forgot how possessive an Alpha is of his things. Though I should possess the same qualities due to my high status, I've only felt that soul-shaking rage with one person when someone threatens that which is mine. I don't think I'll ever feel it again. Not even for Reece.

I glare at Zander, my words low. "Men who sexually assaulted and tormented his daughter during one of your famous unannounced visits to the Silver Palace."

I know from Zander's expression he is furious, and he seethes, "Those accusation were lies! They were good men. My men!"

His words are meant to be reassuring, but it has the opposite effect. There aren't many Alpha shifters that exist; you could say they suffered the most during the Tearing when their forests were reduced to ash and poison.

Zander had given many of them a home, and became their Alpha, but that doesn't mean I believe for one second he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Men like Zander only want one thing— power.

I don't react to his outburst, and I tell him, "The General is yours should you find him…"

"Okay," Zander relaxes before I could finish.

"First," I say, my gaze narrowed. Zander clenches his jaw. "I won't hunt the General, but if he stands in my way, he will die."

"The General doesn't have the courage to stand against you," Zander growls, absolutely sure in his words. I smirk.

"Usually, no. But he's with Damien, a Second-Generation Nightwalker, and he has his promise with the Gods.

With allies like that, he'll damn sure have the courage to think he can.

" I lean back, closing my eyes and tilting my head back.

"In fact, I have a feeling they're discussing my execution right now. "

I'm standing between him and the only thing he wants in this world right now—my enslaved Nightwalker, dead.

"You can't do this. I won't allow it!" Zander snaps, forcing me to look at him with a raised brow.

"I can, and I…"

I pause mid-sentence, the words catching in my throat as an overwhelming wave of fear crashes into the room. The air thickens with it, pressing against my chest like a vice. It's not even a second later when a small figure bursts into my lounge, her presence sharp and unexpected.

A white fox—no, not just any fox. She's tiny for a shifter, her delicate frame barely making a sound as she skids to a halt. The pink tips of her ears and four tails flicker in the dim light, but it's not her appearance that holds me still; it's that familiar feeling.

Something I thought I had just destroyed.

The mate bond.

Damn you, Mia. Always fucking meddling.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Mia and Reece appear at the doorway Alissa had just crashed through. Reece's eyes dart around the room, wide and frantic. But my gaze finds Mia, and the moment our eyes meet, I taste her fear as clearly as she feels my anger.

She lifts her chin, shoulders squared. No apology in her eyes. No regret. She thinks she's doing me a favour. She's wrong.

A surge of fear pulses through the bond between Alissa and me, raw and binding. Maybe it's because the bond's barely been mended, but instead of running to Zander, Alissa collapses at my feet, her small body trembling as she presses her head to the ground in submission.

I tilt my head, my gaze locking onto her fur. A white fox. I don't know why, but something about it tugs at the back of my mind. A half-formed memory, but it escapes me.

Zander, already seething, turns his fury on Alissa, his voice a dangerous snarl. "What is the meaning of this, girl?"

The fox's green eyes lurk into Zanders, and I know they are conversing telepathically. But I don’t need to listen to their conversation to understand the situation.

Zander stiffens. And then, with perfect timing, she walks in.

Nightmare.

She saunters through the door—unbothered, uninvited. Zander glances over his shoulder, and the moment their eyes meet, hers flash gold.

"You…" Zander speaks low, rage and something more potent—fear—tainting the air as he slowly stands. "Have a Nightwalker in my presence."

Well, this is a damn problem.