Moon Sworn (38 page)

“You trespass, wolf,” Blake said, his voice booming out across the windswept silence.

“And you, Blake Jenson, stand accused of fraud, kidnap, and murder.” I took a piece of paper out of my pocket and threw it at his feet. “You may read the charges if you wish.”

He didn’t bother looking at the paper, just left it fluttering at his feet. “So you’re here to arrest me?” His expression was mocking. Contemptuous. “You and I both know that pack land rights give you no such power.”

“Pack land rights give the
police
no power,” I corrected. “But we’re not police. And we’re not here to arrest you.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To carry out the sentence.”

A murmur went through the crowd, rising and falling like a tide. Neither Blake nor Tyson seemed concerned.

“As I said, pack law gives me protection. Kill me, and my family will see to it that you, the Directorate, and everyone in your family pays for it—legally and monetarily.”

I smiled thinly, my expression no doubt as contemptuous as his. “Right now, both your family and Tyson’s—

every son, daughter, brother, and sister—are being rounded up by Directorate personnel. Their fate very much depends on just how deeply they’ve been involved in your schemes. Personally, I wouldn’t care if they wiped out every last trace of your DNA from this earth.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces. Blake clenched his fists and took a step forward. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I stepped forward, meeting him glare for glare. “I warned you what would happen if you came after us again. And this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” Tyson said, and just for a moment, there was doubt and uncertainty in his expression. But Tyson, for all his size, had never been half the powerhouse that his brother was.

“I mean,” I said softly, my gaze not wavering from Blake’s, “that I challenge you to
ad vitam aeternam
.” Which was an old Latin phrase that meant
to eternal life
.

In other words, a fight to the death.

His eyes widened ever so briefly, then he threw his head back and laughed.

Laughed
.

The man was a bigger fool than I’d thought.

No one else seemed to find it funny. Not even his brother, whose expression now wavered between uncertainty and fear. Tyson obviously had some sense of the trouble they were in. Blake didn’t.

“Riley, Riley, Riley,” Blake said, wiping at his eyes as if there were tears of mirth there. “I couldn’t have asked for a better solution to our problem.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Because I’ve been going out of my way not to kill you, and here you hand me the perfect opportunity with no chance of repercussion from the Directorate.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. “I shall enjoy ripping your throat out, in much the same way as I enjoyed ripping out your grandfather’s.”

“If you last that long, you’re welcome to try,” I said softly, and stepped back.

Rhoan took my place. “Tyson Jenson, I challenge you to
ad vitam aeternam.”

Blake frowned. “You can’t. He now no longer lives on these lands—”

“No, he runs his own pack in Queensland,” Rhoan said smoothly. “But he is here, and therefore falls under the rules and regulations of this pack. We checked.”

Blake’s expression darkened. “I know the rules—”

“Where is your son Lodden?” Rhoan cut in.

Blake’s fists clenched. “He played no part in my vengeance. He has no role in the arena.”

“The jury is out as to whether he was involved in what happened to Riley, but we have evidence of him being fully immersed in your other schemes.” Rhoan paused, but Blake didn’t waste breath denying it. “So he has the choice. He can take his chances in the arena with me, or he can be arrested and risk pleading his case to the Directorate.”

And if the Directorate—in the guise of Jack—thought his crimes were bad enough, then Lodden
would
die regardless. No ifs, buts, or maybes.

“Where is he, Blake?”

There was a flicker in his eyes, but it was too fast to identify. It could have been fear, it could have been cunning. Maybe even both.

“He isn’t here. He’s checking the boundaries.”

Rhoan glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. He didn’t believe Blake any more than I did. But it didn’t matter. Lodden could hide for now. We’d find him easily enough later.

“What is your answer, Tyson?” Rhoan said.

He had no choice, we both knew that. Once a challenge was issued, there was no walking away from it.

“Yes. The answer is yes.” Tyson shook his head and gave his brother an almost bitter look. “You’ve killed us all with your need for vengeance.”

Blake swung around to face him. “We will
win
this. Have no doubt of that.” He glanced back at us, and spat. The globule landed at Rhoan’s feet. “We’ve beaten this trash before. We’ll do it again.”

Rhoan merely smiled. There was nothing warm or pleasant about it. “Then let’s get to it.”

“Yes, let’s,” Blake said, all arrogance. “I have somewhere to be later this evening.”

He spun around, presenting his back to us, showing his contempt. I shared another glance with my brother, saw the slight twitch of his fingers as temptation called, saw the deeper hunger and anticipation in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, and neither did I. We simply followed our nemesis around the meeting hall to the arena at the back.

There was already a crowd gathered there. My gaze swept the sea of faces, but I couldn’t see anyone familiar. If our mom was there, she’d changed beyond recognition.

But I very much suspected she wasn’t there. She’d no doubt been forced to watch Blake rip her father apart, and she probably had little faith that we could win this one. No one in their right mind would want to see such violence again.

The arena was just over an acre in size, and positioned on a slight incline. The ground was strewn with boulders and broken trees, and no grass ever grew in the soil. It was if the blood of all those who had fought and died in this place had made the earth barren.

The gate slid open as we approached.

“Left corner,” Blake said, as the four of us walked through.

The left corner was prime position. It was close to water and situated at the top of the incline. We’d known Blake would claim it, even though as challengers, the call was legally ours.

We trudged down the hill, watched by the silent crowd, surrounded by their anticipation and tension. I flexed my shoulders, trying to not let it get to me.

“We need to end this fast,” Rhoan said softly. “There can be no chances, no mistakes, and definitely no doubt in anyone’s mind of the consequences should anything like this ever happen again.”

“Blake’s ruled for years, and he knows this arena well.” I shook free of my jacket as we neared the other end of the arena. “And he packs more weight than me. That’ll tell in this fight.”

“He may be bigger, but you’re faster and stronger.” He gripped my arm. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” I also knew that it wasn’t going to be as easy as Rhoan believed.

I rolled my shoulders, flexed my legs. Prepared, as much as anyone could prepare for the brutality that was a wolf fight.

Halfway up the arena, a green flag went up. A horn sounded immediately—its note haunting and poignant—

informing all those not already aware that
ad vitam aeternam
was about to start. As the final notes drifted away on the breeze, the flag dropped.

Rhoan and I jumped forward as one, flowing from one shape to another as we raced up the hill. Blake and Tyson were already halfway down, suggesting they’d jumped the flag, their growls and fury staining the crisp air.

I swerved to the left, getting out of Rhoan’s way, running at an angle across the hill. Blake moved to intercept me, taking several gigantic strides before he leapt. I met him in the air, our chests crashing together, the sound cracking across the arena like a whip. I bared my teeth and lunged at his face, snapping and snarling. His teeth slid across my nose, tearing into flesh as we dropped to the ground. I dove away, twisted around, rearing up on my back legs as he came at me. Again our chests met as my paws clawed his side and my teeth sank into the ruff of his neck. He pulled away, but I hung on, twisting and shaking my head, trying to tear flesh. He snarled and slashed with his jaws, his canines ripping into my ear. I released him, jumped back. Felt the blood coursing down my neck, thick and warm.

Saw, out of the corner of my eye, the glint of silver on a distant rooftop.

A rifle.

Aimed at Rhoan, not me.

Fury swept me. I should have
known
the bastard wasn’t going to play by the rules.

Blake lunged. I twisted around, rolling under his leap, then ran, with every ounce of strength I had, toward Rhoan. Heard the crack of a gunshot, and dove, shifting shape as I did so, straight at my brother. I hit him just as he was leaping at Tyson, heard his grunt of surprise as I grabbed him with both arms and rolled us both out of the way. Tyson flew over the top of us, but Blake was right behind.

The bullet that had been aimed at Rhoan’s head went through my leg instead. It was silver, and it burned like a bitch, but it also went in one side and came right out the other without appearing to do any serious damage. For once, fate was giving me a break.

“Sniper on the rooftop,” I said, releasing his midriff and rolling to my feet. He scrambled to his, meeting Blake’s charge chest first as the big red wolf leapt, knocking him to one side before twisting around to meet Tyson’s charge.

I kept in human form and ran, every sense I had focused on the sniper. He was aiming again. There was only one way to stop him. I threw open my shields and hit him with every ounce of telepathic power I had. I felt the brief resistance of a nanowire before it shattered under the force of my attack and I plunged into his mind. This was no gentle attack. It was hard and fast and brutal, and his mind snapped as easily as the nanowire.

Lodden Jenson wasn’t dead, but his mind was.

I bent, scooped up a rock, then twisted around and threw it at Blake. I moved so fast he didn’t even see it coming, and the rock smashed into his face full force, shattering his nose and jaw. His furious growls turned to a high sound of pain and he stuttered to a halt, shaking his head to clear the blood that was spurting into his eyes.

“We gave you the chance to play fair, Blake. We were obeying the rules of the arena when, by law, we could have just walked in here and killed you both. You chose to fight dirty, so that’s exactly how I’ll kill you.”

And with that, I shifted shape and lunged at him. He saw me at the last minute and jumped away, but anger fueled my movements now and he was far too slow. I hit his side and sent him tumbling. He rolled, desperately trying to regain his feet and get away, but I hit him again, knocking him back down.

And then I repeated the process, again and again, driving home the point that he couldn’t get up and couldn’t beat me.

He kept trying, I’ll give him that.

I hit him one more time, then shifted shape, crossing my arms as I watched him slowly climb to his feet. Across the arena I was aware of low growling, then there was a godawful howl that cut off abruptly.

Rhoan, finishing off Tyson. It was just me and Blake now.

He climbed to his paws, his head snaking low and broken teeth bared. There was anger in his eyes and tension in his body. He was waiting for the final blow.

“As I said, you started this dirty, so I intend to finish it that same way. Blake Jenson, shift shape.” The words were barely out of my mouth when I hit him with every ounce of psychic strength I had left. It crashed through the barriers of his nanowire and swept into his mind. His eyes widened a fraction before the fist of my thoughts wrapped around his.
Change shape
, I whispered into his mind.
Become human
.

He had no choice. His fury lashed around me, useless, impotent, as his body shifted from one form to another. In human form, his face looked more battered, and his gray eyes gleamed with maliciousness and fury. But he couldn’t move. My grip on his mind was too strong.

I walked forward until I was nose-to-nose with the man.

“This is for our childhood,” I said softly. “For the innocence you snatched away.”

I raised a hand and chopped it across his neck. Felt muscle and flesh give away as his throat collapsed inward. He made a low sound of pain, but he still couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight.

Part of me wanted to end it swiftly, to just break his neck and walk away from him and everything bad he represented. But I couldn’t.

I needed this vengeance. Hated it, but needed it.

“And for my mother, who had no recourse against your treatment of us; for my grandfather, who was an old man when you slaughtered him in this arena; and for my stepbrother, whose mate you kidnapped and tortured. For all of them, I give you the inglorious justice of being killed in the arena in human form.” I paused, letting my words sink in. Watching the hatred and fury and finally fear roll through his eyes and his mind. “Maybe you will find the hell in afterlife that you gave us in life, Blake.”

And with that, I hit him a final time, crushing his larynx and breaking his neck. He dropped like a stone, dead before he actually hit the ground.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then looked up.

Straight into my mother’s eyes.

She was standing at the fence, her face serene and her gray eyes giving little away. I might have been a stranger for all the emotion she was showing, and I guess in many respects I was. After all, I was still a teenager when I’d left. Now I was an adult, and a trained killer besides.

But she hadn’t changed all that much—there were a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, and perhaps a little gray in the red of her hair, but otherwise she was still very much as I remembered her.

I continued to stare at her, unsure what to do, what to say. Unsure if I even wanted to say or do anything. Awareness prickled across my skin, and I knew without looking that Rhoan was approaching. He stopped beside me, his fingers weaving through mine, then he, too, stared at the woman who had given us life.