I manage to dip my head back at him, hoping that it’s the right thing to do. He wades into the river, stopping when he reaches the middle, and the glint in his eye I get before he turns to address the rest of the pack allows me to let out a slow breath of relief.
At least I didn’t fuck that up.
“Ruin Falls…” he shouts out, his voice commanding, deep, and hypnotic. “Why are we here?” His arms are loose at his side, the question cutting, lacking all fanfare and showmanship. I can tell as I watch him that what he’s doing is genuinely about the pack and has nothing to do with needing to defend his place in it. Tyran isn’t punishing some silly slight. He’s not flexing against subordinates to keep a stranglehold on his position or establishing dominance for dominance’s sake. Whatever is about to happen is vital and important.
“Betrayal,” a male from the gathering crowd yells out.
“Selfishness,” someone else declares.
“Trust,” a female shouts, and Tyran’s tawny gaze jumps to her.
“Trust,” he agrees, and Warrik shifts his weight as though that word physically just fell from the sky and pressed down against his shoulders. “Trust and loyalty are the very pillars of our foundation here. If we don’t have that, what do we have?”
Murmurs of agreement sound off all around me as the gathering wolves all nod their heads and spill affirmations from their mouths.
There’s a heavy tension in the air as Tyran pulls his eyes away from his pack and fixes his stare on Warrik. “You endangered the pack, yourself, and an untested wolf, all because you wanted a shot at claiming something before anyone else could,” he accuses.
Warrik growls quietly. “Seems that worked out well for you.” His eyes never stray from the fast current of the water he’s standing in.
Angry growls rumble through the gathered pack, a thick blanket of unease spreading out all around us with the beta’s impertinence. I expect Tyran’s body to tighten against the disrespect and for his anger to rise to the surface. I expect Warrik’s punishment to turn from bad to worse. But when I look over at the Ruin Falls alpha, all I see is hard disappointment. Warrik is clearly showing that he isn’t who Tyran thought he was, and I can practically feel the resignation settling in him as he stares icelike at the beta.
“To me, Beta,” Tyran commands, motioning for Warrik to move closer, leaving no room in his tone or body language for argument.
Warrik huffs out a breath and then moves closer to the center of the river where his alpha is standing. There’s no explanation of what’s going to happen, no declaration of rules, or lecture from the alpha to one of his pack members. Quietly, dangerously, they both start to circle one another, studying, assessing, and cataloging weaknesses.
Everything around us is quiet. It’s as though the birds and the insects are watching each step, each twitch of a muscle, as keenly as the rest of us are. The stunning and powerful waterfall at my back is the only thing that dares roar its encouragement for the battle that’s about to take place in its waters.
Warrik suddenly charges Tyran, wolf claws extended and intent on doing damage. I hold my breath, every inch of my body tight with worry and the need to keep Tyran from getting hurt. The rabid beast in me starts to rise to the surface, and before I can stop it, a menacing growl vibrates through my body.
People surrounding me are quick to take a step away, and as much as I agree with my wolf’s displeasure over what’s happening, I tamp down on her and keep my body locked in place.
Warrik swipes at his alpha, and then quicker than my eyes could track if I didn’t have my wolf, Tyran reaches out, wraps his large hand around his beta’s throat, and lifts him into the air. The snarl he lets out as he brings Warrik’s face closer makes my blood run cold. The moon’s light spills over everything, dipping the scene before me in a monochromatic hue that makes everything feel more brutal and vicious. Whimpers escape the mouths of the watching pack, and I see several of them lift their chins to expose their necks as though they’re submitting from the sidelines, happy to bend a knee or show their alpha their belly from just the sound of his wrath alone.
Pride wells in my chest, and I