"Again, Elliot!"
Paul's voice tore through the courtyard, rough with humiliation and fury. His eyes had already reddened, wolf instincts pushing against reason as he threw everything he had into the fight. Every strike carried the full force of his rage, yet no matter how violently he attacked, I continued matching him step for step.
That realization was destroying him.
I could smell it on him now—the sharp scent of panic buried beneath aggression.
He was supposed to be the strongest fighter in the Bauer Mercenary pack. Men like him built their entire identities around dominance. Losing wasn't simply embarrassing to them.
It was extinction.
Paul came at me again, fists cutting through the cold night air with reckless force. I blocked one strike, twisted away from another, then drove my shoulder into his chest hard enough to stagger him backward. He barely regained his footing before charging once more.
That was when Aliona appeared.
