Page 43 of Forged Alliances
Chapter Twenty
Thunderstorms didn’t hold a candle to the intensity that charged the clearing.
The Tribe members glanced between the two groups standing on opposite sides with mild interest. Not like they interfered, though—unless Dax and Sierra brought an official report regarding last night to them, they wouldn’t get involved. And no way in hell would Dax stretch this limbo out longer than necessary. He’d settle this dispute with Drew on the testing grounds here and now.
Dax paced along the worn earth he’d spilled blood on yesterday. Many of the cowards who’d attacked last night hadn’t dared to show their faces today, which meant Drew’s side consisted of a handful of scowling folks Dax had once considered pack. Some wounds didn’t heal easily. Between the pipe bomb attacks and shooting up Beaver Tavern last night, they’d cemented themselves in enemy territory from here on out.
Meanwhile, the attack last night had rallied everyone under his and Sierra’s watch, so the force he had at his back to support him today was inspiring. These fighters were resilient, resourceful, and loyal—traits he hoped to emulate and honor on this testing ground.
A rumble came from the black Caddy pulling into the parking lot. Dax stopped pacing and sucked in a deep breath as he straightened to greet his opponent. Drew slipped out of his car, aviators on and his wrinkle-free tee begging for some bloodstains. Dax’s brother tugged off the sunglasses and squinted as he tossed them back into his car before sauntering over. Dax didn’t miss how he looped around, veering as far as possible from the Red Rock pack and Dax’s supporters.
Several growls lit the air at Drew’s appearance, the air heating more fiercely than the sun could swing. The slight hunch in his brother’s shoulders as he jogged over was telltale. He knew he’d done them wrong last night. The silver hue of the clouds rolling in stained the area with shadows, but already the sticky humidity clung to Dax’s skin like paint.
Even amid the loam of the earth and the tingle of fresh greenery, Dax caught the spice of Sierra’s scent from the crowd. She’d been in his bed when he got up at a more reasonable time than her preference of dawn, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to wake up. With his one-nighters he’d been out the door before they ever blinked twice in the morning. But back then, he’d been insecure, directionless. Now he knew where he was meant to be. Win or lose, he’d face Drew today with uncompromised honor.
Drew stepped into the clearing, drawing the rest of the crowd’s attention. The sight of his brother on this familiar territory smacked Dax with déjà vu. Six months ago, he’d stepped into this ring as a nobody within the pack—few folks thought he stood a chance against his father’s favorite. Yet that day had marked the beginning of a new chapter.
The death of his father had been the lifting of a veil. Dax wouldn’t spin his wheels fighting authority—at last he had a real opportunity for change, a chance to take the Silver Springs pack in a better direction.
His brother scowled, the ugly gash down his cheek marring those picture-perfect features: the broad jaw; wide, easy smile; and arched nose Dax had never inherited from their father. Except now he understood the reason why. Navi stepped past the other Tribe members, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed while glancing between the two of them as if she watched a ping-pong match. She sucked in a breath and sauntered toward them, her exaggerated steps like some old cowboy in a Western heading to a duel.
Gravity descended between him and Drew as if with the onset of a storm. Dax straightened his stance, sliding his thumbs through his belt loops.
“You must be shitting yourself right now,” Dax called out, drawing his brother’s attention. “Didn’t think I’d make it this far, did you? I’m a stubborn bastard—too stubborn to back away from this fight. Maybe I did inherit some Williams traits after all.”
Drew snorted, the derisive sound causing his skin to prickle with irritation. “You’re not a Williams, but you are a bastard. Why Dad wasted his time raising an ungrateful wretch who wasn’t his blood is beyond me. Promises to our whore mother only stretch so far.”
Dax rocked back and forth where he stood, not batting an eye. Based on the way Drew’s lips pursed, he waited for some shock and awe, but Dax had spread the word to his pack once he found out. And as for those who sided with Drew—well, they were assholes following a dead guy who didn’t deserve their loyalty.
“What a relief,” he called. “To find out I wasn’t related to that monster. Dad won’t save you now though. You’re going to pay for your crimes, not only against our pack, but against the Red Rocks. And right here and now it’s you and me—no cheats, sneak attacks, or bombs.”
Navi’s lips twisted in a scowl at the statement, but what or whomever the Tribe investigated around town, they’d remained silent and evasive on the subject. “You two reached the final round, but since your fight as shifters for alpha was interrupted, you won’t be fighting as mountain lions but as humans. The winner will become alpha of the Silver Springs pack and preside over the contested territory. No weapons, no claws, and no fangs.”
Dax frowned. After all the fights in his lion form, he hadn’t expected that one. Not as if he’d grown rusty on hand-to-hand. Sierra left nothing to chance, and he had welcomed every opportunity to get hot and sweaty in their human forms. Drew scowled at the announcement, and those familiar blues flashed at him, flickering with fear. His brother rolled his shoulders, a fake smile on his lips. Dax would know, since that was where he’d learned the technique first.
Regret sliced him, a piercing ache in his chest as he met his brother’s gaze. Beneath all the ugliness marring their relationship, he couldn’t erase those early memories. Of roughhousing as cubs until Uncle Aiden had to split them apart and then laughing as they dove back in for more. Of following Drew through the secret paths in their woods because his big brother knew all the best spots to hide from the adults. Of the way Drew got him a birthday present every year, even if Dad “forgot.”
However, he also couldn’t dismiss his brother’s actions. Beyond breaking the Silver Springs pack in two, the pipe bombs and the attack last night had drawn a line in the sand past the point of forgiveness.
Dax glanced behind him, at the familiar faces in the crowd who’d arrived to support him. Kyle, Marcy and Rick, and even Ally-cat had managed to make it out, though she leaned on a pair of crutches. Finn and Raven stood side by side, stony-faced and resolute as they watched him from afar. And Sierra’s gaze remained level, her determination unshakeable, and her faith in him a power unto itself. She gave him a slight tilt of her head in acknowledgment. She believed in him, enough to rest justice for her pack on his shoulders.
He wouldn’t let her down.
“Fight until one of you doesn’t rise,” Navi called out, her tone a shade bored. The Tribe had witnessed dozens of these matches, including the ones this week. For those guys, this spelled the end of an annoyance. She lifted her hands. “Ready, and…go.”
The sudden declaration jolted Dax to action. His muscles tensed, and he dropped into a fighting stance, shifting side to side.
As the words left her lips, Navi’s arms dropped, and she jogged off the arena to join the rest of the Tribe by the lawn chairs. Dax began circling the same way he would in lion form, the urge to stalk his prey one that remained. Except he’d had this fight a thousand times over with his brother. His father had taught them to ram ahead similar to the fighting style of Dominic Enrico. Dax didn’t often follow his father’s directions, but Drew did.
Despite the cowardly way his brother had attacked last night, his gaze sharpened, and his body buzzed with the alert aura of a fighter. Drew might be an asshole, but Dax had fought his brother enough to know he was a dangerous asshole. And today, after the violence his pack and the Red Rocks had suffered, he couldn’t afford to lose.
Drew circled in a similar fashion, but Dax didn’t take the bait to leap in half-cocked. Instead he waited, and he paced. His head buzzed with the adrenaline rushing through his veins, and his lion walked with him every step, as present as if he’d shifted. The air thickened enough to drink it down, and the faint stench of blood marred these grounds from the countless fights witnessed here throughout the years.
Drew’s right hand twitched.
In this fight, speed meant everything. Dax couldn’t take the defensive. His shoulder still throbbed from the other day, and if his brother applied pressure on the weak spot, he’d crumble.
Dax leaped ahead, racing toward his brother before he could get the jump on him. The breeze swept strands of his hair back as he snapped in with the precision of an arrow loosed from a bow. Drew’s fist whipped around, but Dax had seen the motion coming. He swerved around the swing, grabbing his brother’s arm and yanking him forward. Propelled by the motion, Drew staggered, making the mistake of showing his back.