Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Solomon cleared his throat, standing once again on the icy track that surrounded the field. “The librarian has accepted the challenge from Caidrik McGregor, who was disqualified from the trials due to breaking the, ah, the chastity requirement.” Solomon flushed a tomato red color. “According to the grimoire, he can be reinstated as a challenger if he survives twenty-five fights with pack members as well as a fight with any remaining challengers, who in this case, is his brother, Bulwark McGregor.”
A rumbling set up in the bleachers.
Solomon rocked back on his heels. “The rules, according to the grimoire, is that a fight goes on until one wolf taps out. In addition, the challenger may not shift to wolf form unless his opponent does so first.”
Just great. Caidrik was already aching in his human form. He lifted his chin and surveyed the pack. “The librarian has given me his word that should I fail, Nadia Hodge is to be escorted safely to the Granite Pack territory and then left alone. For life.”
Solomon nodded. “Yes. It’s a bit of a gray area in the grimoire, but I do believe I have the right to make that promise. So I did.”
Caidrik didn’t give a shit if it was a gray area or not. That was the only way he’d allow Nadia to attend the fights. “I want the vow of every wolf here.” He didn’t need to raise his voice.
The entire pack nodded, while several members called out their agreement. Good.
He gave Nadia a chin lift where she sat between Bussy and Margaret, all three sharing a green blanket already dotted with snow. She smiled back, but her eyes were wide. Worried. He nodded at his mother, who sat farther down the bleachers next to Taryn. He’d asked her not to attend, but his mother had never listened to him, so why would she start now?
Solomon patted the grimoire. “Let the challenge begin.”
A male stepped onto the field from the crowd. Monty Robertson.
Caidrik knew him. Everybody knew him. Monty had been an enforcer long enough that the pack had stopped asking how he kept walking away from fights. Scars ran along his knuckles and up his forearms like old writing. He carried himself like he didn’t need luck.
He stopped a few yards away. Snow collected on his shoulders and hair. He looked at Caidrik’s bare chest, then at the bruises, and his mouth twitched. “You sure about this?”
Caidrik lifted his hands and settled into his stance. He didn’t waste breath on anything that sounded like doubt.
Solomon cleared his throat. “If anybody beats the challenger, they earn a twenty-five percent ownership interest in all of the Slate Pack mines.”
Monty grinned, revealing a gap in the middle of his teeth. “That’s quite the incentive.”
Yeah, it most certainly was.
Solomon nodded. “We had more than twenty-five fighters ask to be included in the challenge and had to narrow it down to our best fighters. It was difficult, and I do apologize to everyone who didn’t make the grade.”
More than twenty-five of them wanted to slash Caidrik’s throat?
Solomon blew a whistle.
Monty surged forward, fast for his size, all momentum and intent. He went straight for the ribs. Caidrik shifted his weight at the last second. Monty’s shoulder still slammed into him, hard enough to make his teeth click. Pain rippled through him. His boots slid on the slick grass, but he stayed upright. He let the hit travel through him instead of stopping him.
Monty followed with a hook aimed for the jaw. Caidrik blocked with his forearm, then snapped his elbow down into Monty’s wrist. Monty grunted but kept coming. The enforcer fought like a storm. No pause. No hesitation. Just pressure.
Caidrik gave ground by inches. He didn’t retreat. He angled. He waited for the moment Monty’s weight got ahead of him. It always did. Even the best fighters had habits.
Monty faked low and came high. The second punch landed. It clipped Caidrik’s jaw and snapped his head sideways. Heat bloomed in his mouth. Blood tasted metallic and immediate.
Good.
That meant his body still worked.
Caidrik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, more to clear the blood than to be dramatic. He stepped in. Close range was where size stopped mattering and control started. He drove a fist into Monty’s ribs and then another into the same spot before Monty could fully exhale. Monty’s breath hitched. Caidrik felt it. He felt the body give. He followed with a knee to the thigh, sharp and punishing. Monty swore under his breath and swung wide.
Caidrik ducked under it and grabbed Monty’s arm, twisting and pulling him forward. Monty stumbled a half step. That half step was everything.
Caidrik swept Monty’s leg.
Monty went down hard, back slamming into the snow-matted turf. Slush sprayed out. Monty tried to roll. Caidrik dropped his weight onto him and pinned him, forearm across his throat, pressure controlled.