45. Mai

We heard the sounds of fighting from over a mile away.

"Derek," Ryan growled, putting his foot on the accelerator. Jase was passed out in the back seat; it was a healing sleep and probably not one he was going to wake from any time soon.

The moment Ryan and I entered the camping ground, we were swallowed by an atmosphere thick with primal energy and conflict. Ryan slammed on the brakes, and we both jumped out. Fighting was all around us. I ran. Two wolves, a snarling ball of teeth, claws, and blood, came from my right. I dodged as they tumbled past me. Ducking under arms and pushing against fighting bodies, I fought my way toward the fire pit at the center of the camping ground. It roared; its flickering light painted a chaotic tapestry on the faces of those nearby who were locked in combat, casting shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with their strikes.

Derek, Mason, Wally, Thomas, even Sam, looking slim and pale but utterly furious, were in the thick of it, a whirlwind of fur and fangs, fighting with the kind of ferocious abandon that left no question about their will to protect what was theirs. Against them were some of Jem's old enforcers, now Brock and Hayley's. Some were in human form, but most had managed to Shift, and their snarls were meeting snarls, claws clashing against claws.

Amongst them, Sofia stood like a warrior queen, her eyes ablaze, her body a blur of motion as she fought back-to-back with Derek. There was a synchrony in their movements, a unity that was beautiful to watch. Emotions crashed through me—relief that Sofia had escaped, gratitude to Derek for getting her free, pride in both of them and a burning desire to join them and finally, finally, get justice for Jem.

Werewolves from other Packs formed a wary perimeter around the battlefield. They watched with eyes narrowed, caution lacing their stances. They were watching carefully, but not getting involved. They'd wait to see who would emerge the winners. The Bridgetown wolves were there, and I saw Michael, Camille, Danni, Ivan, even Ethan. They couldn't interfere in an internal Pack war, not during an official Meet. We were on our own in this fight. Camille nodded sharply at me, as if to say that we could do this.

My eyes met Ryan's, and in that brief moment of connection, our thoughts were one. We had to find Brock and Hayley. Now.

We pushed forward, our bodies weaving through the chaos. Around us, the fight raged on.

Derek glanced in our direction and shouted, "Now, Ryan! You have to do it now!"

My ears picked up a subtle shift in the howls and growls—a change in pitch that signaled a retreat. My eyes darted, searching, until they locked onto a pair of figures racing toward the edge of the clearing. Brock and Hayley. If they left the Meet, we'd be locked out of challenging for the Alpha pair for a year, a delay I couldn't allow.

There was no way we could catch them in time. I broke into a run, Ryan keeping pace with me, dodging fists and sharp teeth. My eyes were locked on the platform near the fire pit.

"Mai!" Ryan shouted, and I veered toward him, took two steps, and leaped. Ryan caught me, spun, and threw me in one fluid movement as if we had trained this maneuver hundreds of times. I flew through the air, tucked my legs, and landed in a crouch on the platform.

Around me, the din of battle seemed to fade into a distant roar, drowned out by the pounding of my own heart. I had one shot at this.

I howled, my voice rising above the snarls and growls, the clash of bodies, and the breaking of bones. I was acutely aware of every eye turning to me, of the sudden hush that seemed to descend upon the clearing. This was it—the point of no return.

"I, Mai Parker, and my mate Ryan Shaw challenge Brock Madden and Hayley Parker for the Alpha pair of the Three Rivers Pack!"

From my vantage point on the platform, I saw Brock and Hayley freeze at the edge of the clearing, then exchange a rapid, hushed conversation. Brock was frowning, while Hayley's face was twisted, arms gesticulating. She did not want to fight.

Michael and Camille broke from the crowd and marched toward them.

"The challenge has been issued," Michael said, his voice clear and authoritative, cutting through the noise like a knife through butter. "According to the Laws of the Packs, you must accept. Refusal is not an option unless you're willing to abdicate right here, right now."

Brock looked at Hayley for a long moment, his sandy hair falling over his forehead as he tilted his head in a question. They seemed to reach a consensus, their body language shifting subtly, and I could see his muscles straining under his shirt.

Hayley, on the other hand, looked almost frail. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that had grown gaunt. Her green eyes, which always reminded me of a cat stalking its prey, were clouded with a grief she couldn't hide. Yesterday, in the cage room, I hadn't clocked how skinny she'd become. But it was clear now. It was as if the stress had eaten away at her, both physically and emotionally.

Brock looked over the crowd. With a nod, he began moving toward the platform. There was a cocky tilt to his chin and a swagger in his stride as he came toward us.

Hayley followed him, her eyes darting to meet mine. There was no mistaking the venom in her glare. She hated me for this.

Werewolves from various Packs, who had been watching the fight, drew back, giving Brock and Hayley room to pass.

Brock and Hayley finally reached the platform, stepping up to stand opposite us.

"It's fitting your lives should end here like this," Brock sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Ryan chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "You always were a fan of theatrics, Brock. Let's see who dies, shall we?"

"Says the man who's so desperate he just threw his girlfriend onto a platform."

"I'm surprised you saw that while you were running away, your tail between your legs. Just like your dad."

I knew what Ryan was doing, baiting Brock, trying to get him angry enough to make mistakes in the coming fight.

"My father was not a coward," Brock ground out between clenched teeth.

Hayley's eyes locked onto mine, her voice icy. "This is your last chance, Mai. Walk away. You don't have to die for him."

I shook my head, meeting her gaze squarely. "I'm not running anymore, Hayley."

Her lips tightened, and I could see her hands clenching into fists. "You've always been too stubborn for your own good."

"And you've always underestimated me."

Ryan stepped closer to Brock, his voice low but carrying enough to reach every ear. "We challenged you according to the Laws of the Packs. You can either fight or surrender your claim to the Alpha pair. Choose."

Brock looked at Hayley one last time, as if seeking confirmation. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Very well," Brock said, rolling his shoulders back as if preparing for a physical feat. "We accept your challenge."

The crowd erupted, the tension snapping to a new level of intensity. This was it—the point of no return.