Page 27

MARLOWE

A few 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.

I got up on my chair and cupped my hands, screaming his name. “Julian! Julian, I love you! You’ve got this!”

Roland’s jaw ticked in anger. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. “He’s going to lose, omega. I recommend you come to terms with the fact that you’re coming home with us.”

I had so many retorts on the tip of my tongue, but none of them mattered, because he was wrong. I knew which pack I was leaving with, and it sure as hell wasn’t the Conclave.

The fighters stood in the center and shook hands, Eamon grinning as he squeezed tightly enough to make Julian wince almost imperceptibly.

The priestess raised her hand. “Begin.”

Eamon lunged forward, throwing a heavy jab that smacked into Julian’s bicep, driving him back from the force. Another blow came, and then another, each punch shaking Julian down to his bones. Eamon’s fists were sledgehammers, relentless and unstoppable, and Julian’s guard began to buckle. My breath hitched as he inched closer and closer to the edge of the ring. One or two more hits could push him out entirely and end this.

After all he been through today, every match just to save me from being owned by the Conclave, and he’d stumble at the finish line.

Not that I could even blame him at all, he was fighting for my life and had already given it his all. I just felt so useless, watching and unable to do anything. I tugged again at the stupid collar, and my eyes darted quickly to Linda. She nodded, her posture tense, ready to leap up and bring me into the bathroom immediately should Julian fall.

A punch caught Julian in the ribs, and the air exploded from his lungs. He stumbled, barely keeping his footing, his eyes crossing as Eamon laughed, circling him with cocky determination.

My lips trembled, but Julian shook his head and snuck a look at me, winking his promise to win. Gritting his teeth, he blinked, and smiled as he saw an opening.

Eamon stepped in with another heavy jab, but Julian’s speed returned and he twisted his torso, dodging just in time. The linebacker’s fist swung wide, leaving his side unguarded. With a burst of renewed energy, Julian shot forward, his right hand striking Eamon with a vicious hook.

Eamon grunted, stumbling back a step, his face flashing with surprise. “The pup’s still got some fight in him!”

he laughed, trying to cover his shock.

You can do this, Julian.

Julian pressed forward and threw a quick combination—left hook, right uppercut—each punch landing with brutal precision. Eamon tried to guard, but Julian slipped around him, staying just out of reach of the linebacker’s sweeping arms. His fists flew, each punch chipping away at Eamon’s defenses.

The linebacker was getting angry now. I knew he and the Conclave had been expecting an easy victory, but they’d severely underestimated Julian’s skill and determination. The Conclave thought of themselves as the peak of shifters, but the difference between them and my pack was clear as day. Julian was a true alpha, protecting his mate, and honoring the bond between us. Refusing to let me go, because I was more than just an omega to him.

Eamon roared, swinging again, but Julian ducked low, weaving under the aimless and messy punch.

My pack was on their feet, yelling with everything they had, and I sent all the love and faith I had for Julian through my bond, willing him every ounce of my energy to finish the fight.

I took a quick glance at the Conclave around me, their smiles faltering with Eamon’s diminishing edge. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when Julian wiped the floor with their “champion.”

The crowd surged and their anticipation crackled like electricity in the air as Julian popped up with an uppercut that connected with Eamon’s chin. The big man’s head snapped back, his body reeling. He staggered, shock widening his eyes as Julian closed in. He was relentless. Merciless.

Because Julian and I loved each other, and he was not giving up.

With a final, powerful hook, Julian struck Eamon across the jaw, the impact reverberating through the ring. Eamon wobbled, eyes unfocused, before his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

Time seemed to stand still as the room became deathly quiet, all eyes on the fallen hulk of an alpha lying on the ground. Julian stood over him, panting heavily, fists still clenched, every ounce of his energy spent.

“….seven, eight, nine, ten. Competitor thirty-two has lost.”

The crowd erupted, cheering and shouting Julian’s name, but he barely heard them as he looked towards me. Bruised, battered, and victorious.

He’d done it. I had known he could, but actually witnessing how hard he’d fought for me and watching him take and deliver countless blows just to keep me safe… my heart was so full I felt it might burst.

Tears in my eyes, I got up to run towards him but Roland wrapped an arm around me and held me back.

“I contest the Rite!”

he yelled.

“Let me go,”

I hissed. Shifters crowded the ring to congratulate Julian, and I watched my pack struggle to wade through them all to get to me. “Don’t be a sore loser, you’re just embarrassing yourself!”

He ignored me and continued. “By the authority of the Conclave, I declare the results voided!”

Females jumped on top of their chairs, booing and jeering at Roland. He sneered, his hold on me only tightening.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I asked, watching as my pack struggled to reach me.

“I’m not leaving here without you,”

he replied. “I deserve an omega, I’m the strongest alpha. This fight determines nothing, you belong to me.”

He opened his mouth to bark at the crowd when the doors to the temple hall burst open and revealed a large, familiar figure, surveying the chaos with amusement in his eyes.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. His timing was either perfect or dog shit.

“I hereby enter the Rite of Dominion for the omega!” he cried.

Roland snapped his attention to the naked alpha who now sauntered slowly to the ring, eyeing him warily. “And who the hell are you?”

he yelled.

He smiled. “Ezra Linden, representing King Alaroth’s claim of my sister.”

So his plan was to take me from the asshole frying pan and into the asshole fire?

“No, you don’t!”

I yelled. “You can’t take me anyway, it’s too late! Julian won!”

My pack circled around Julian and blocked Ezra’s path, growling and starting to crouch in preparation to attack.

Roland barked, “Quiet!”

The room went silent, but then Ezra started to laugh and shake his head. “You call that a bark?”

I felt Roland tense behind me. “I am the leader of the Conclave, I am the strongest…”

“Silence,”

Ezra whispered.

Roland’s voice disappeared, and his mouth opened in shock as he clutched his throat in confusion.

Was I happy my brother was about to steal Julian’s victory? No. Was I happy he was here to finally take me to his magical faerie land? Of course not.

But watching him dominate Roland with a single word had been an absolute delight.

Ezra approached my pack and gave them a terse, apologetic nod. “Come, I don’t want to hurt you, so let’s make this quick.”

Cam looked over at the priestess and she averted her gaze in shame. “He registered before Eamon Frost’s defeat. He is allowed to compete.”

My chest tightened and I finally wriggled out of Roland’s grasp. I ran straight to Ezra and grabbed his arm. “Please, Ezra, don’t do this!”

He cupped my face in his large hands and sighed. “Marlowe, it’s time. We can’t put it off any longer. Either I beat Julian in this ring fair and square, or I’m going to have to kill your pack. Which is it?”

The room around me disappeared, the only sound in my ears the frantic beating of my own heart. “Ezra, no…”

Julian roared back to life, taking out his mouth guard to spit blood on the floor, then popping it back in. “Let’s get this over with,”

he growled.

There was no way Julian had one more fight in him. He’d barely beaten Eamon. I stood in between them, arms spread to protect my pack mate. “No, Ezra. I’m not allowing this. It’s not fair. Julian won and I’m leaving with them.”

Roland finally found his voice again and yelled into the chaos. “If you’re her brother, you can’t fight. The Rite of Dominion is for mating bonds!”

I gagged slightly at the thought of my womb also being one of the prizes tonight, and thankfully Ezra seemed to agree, his mouth contorting with disgust. But then again, he was here to apparently collect me for some other guy, so I guess he didn’t really see me as more than an object at the moment, either.

My own brother. God, this was messed up.

He walked slowly towards the Conclave leader, sneering and looking down at him. “You call yourself an alpha?”

Then he turned around and addressed the whole crowd. “And you call yourselves shifters? You are all pathetic!”

he shouted.

The insult caused everyone to wince in submission, including Roland. “You’re nothing but watered down mongrels. The idea that any of you would be worthy of my sister is laughable!”

Julian swayed on his feet, shaking his head to clear his vision as he prepared for the final battle of the Rite. “Marlowe chose me, she chose our pack. Who the hell are you to say you know better?”

Ezra cocked his head and smiled, spreading his arms wide. “Why, I’m her brother, of course. And it’s time for Marlowe to embrace her destiny and come with me to Vespera.”

He nodded towards the priestess, who ordered the ring cleared and reluctantly raised her hand. “Be—”

“No!”

I kicked off my heels and stomped to the center of the ring. “Apparently, we can make up the rules to this bullshit contest, considering the Conclave can just decide they’ve won anyway. So guess what? I’m entering myself. Here I am, competitor number whatever, from Pack Fuck-You-Ezra,”

I said, taking off Cam’s coat and throwing it back to him. I hiked up the tight skirt to free up my mobility and raised my fists.

“Objection!”

Roland yelled, trying in vain to take back control of this circus. “Omegas can’t fight in the Rite, and brothers can’t win their own sisters. We declare this whole challenge as fraudulent and hereby claim…”

Ezra had finally heard enough, and he turned towards the Conclave, a look of pure disdain on his face. “Do you ever shut up?”

There was uncertainty in Roland’s eyes, but he beat his chest and bellowed, “I am the most dominant alpha, we are the Conclave! My word is to be obeyed, and I am ordering you to cease your…”

Ezra’s eyebrow arched and he smiled. “The most dominant? Are you sure about that?”

I finally understood what my pack had been talking about when it came to my brother’s power—it rolled off him, smothering us like a thick fog as it moved oppressively in the room.

The Conclave looked at each other nervously, and I was almost delighted by the way they were second-guessing the current pecking order.

Ezra crossed his arms, widening his stance. “Bow!”

he barked.

The Conclave got on their knees immediately at the order, and Ezra laughed.

“You think you grow a knot and suddenly can call yourself an alpha? An alpha doesn’t need to remind everyone they’re the most dominant. An alpha doesn’t whine like a petulant child when they don’t get their way. The alpha’s job is to protect the weakest among them. You have got to be the vilest, most self-indulgent pack of assholes I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, and the realms would be better off without you.”

The crowd gasped as Ezra slowly started at one end of the line of alphas in front of him. One by one, he touched their heads, and a strange, burning light glowed from within their skulls. Each one screamed and shook until their eyes began to smoke. Then they fell over on the ground, motionless, blood pooling from their ears and mouths.

The crowd was stunned silent, frozen and afraid, watching the grisly scene unfold.

I winced at each thud. The gut-churning nausea that had been swirling inside me since the Conclave had first made their intentions known alleviated, but a new sense of dread was happy to take its place.

My pack couldn’t defeat Ezra, and I wasn’t going to risk their lives to fight in my place. Unlike the Rite, the risk of death in going against my brother was perilously high.

But I could still challenge him.

He left Roland for last, letting him watch as his pack was destroyed by magic from the inside out.

Ezra stood behind him, putting his hands on his shoulders and speaking to everyone once again. “Behold, your alpha!”

He lowered his head and whispered something in Roland’s ear, and the alpha closed his eyes and nodded.

Ezra grabbed his head, and with a swift, brutal twist, ripped it right off his neck.

Panic seeped through every scent in the room, and shifters finally started to scream. They rushed towards the exit, but Ezra let out a commanding bark for them to stay. “You will bear witness to the events of today!”

I made my way to the center of the ring, holding my hand out behind me to stop my pack from entering. This was my turn now, and they needed to take care of Julian and make sure they left this temple alive. “Ezra, quit your shit. If you want to claim me, you’re going to have to fight me.”

A look of pity washed over my brother’s face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

When had he become so delusional? All our lives growing up, Ezra had supported me and respected my choices. Hell, he’d often deferred to me when it came to difficult decisions because he called me the smarter twin. Now suddenly he felt he had the authority to dictate my life?

“Ha!”

I replied. “You don’t want to hurt me? Then why are you taking me away against my will?”

Ezra growled as he stepped up, towering over me. “You were meant for so much greater than being some small-town omega.”

“But this is the life I want!”

I yelled back. “And you have no right trying to change that or decide anything for me! Let’s get this over with.”

I pulled my hair back into a messy bun, raised my fists, and then nodded towards the priestess.

She raised a shaky hand for the final round of the night. “Begin.”