If Paul defeated Elliot here, in front of Riley's men, it wouldn't just be a fight won—it would be a ranking rewritten. In pack terms, it would be the kind of victory that shifted loyalty, fear, and reputation all at once. That thought alone was enough to keep his pride burning hotter than reason.
"Bring Elliot to the courtyard," Paul ordered, his voice sharp with certainty. "I'm going to make him understand his place."
One of the subordinates hesitated. "Paul, he's supposed to remain with Miss Dora tonight to—"
"Are you questioning me?" Paul snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a warning growl.
The man lowered his head immediately. But the hesitation was already enough to irritate him further.
