Knotting His Rejected Breeder

Ramon caught up to Vance at the edge of the courtyard, right before Vance reached the steps leading to the upper keep. He reached out and snagged Vance’s heavy wool sleeve.

"Vance. Two hours."

Vance didn’t slow his stride. He dragged Ramon half a pace across the gravel before yanking his arm free with a sharp jerk.

"Changes nothing."

"It lets him speak to his mother," Ramon said, keeping pace, his boot heels digging into the dirt. "Don’t put him in that yard like a stray dog. Give us until dawn."

Vance stopped long enough to turn around. He didn’t look enraged; he looked cold, his broad chest heaving slightly under his dark winter cloak.

"I have nineteen pack leaders sitting in my hall right now, Ramon," Vance said, his voice flat and hard as frozen earth. "They came here for a Choosing. They came to offer their sons for my daughter’s hand and seal Silvercrest’s border. Bloodmoon had the top seat. Your boy was supposed to take Aurora home tonight and lock our packs together for the next fifty years. Instead, he walked in late with a farm girl, smelling of mud and road grease, and let my daughter laugh off the betrothal in front of the entire summit."

"He was protecting her from rogues—"

"I don’t care about rogues!" Vance snapped, stepping directly into Ramon’s space until their chests nearly touched. "He humiliated my house! He made Silvercrest look weak. Every young Alpha on those stone benches right now thinks my daughter is a joke and Bloodmoon is soft. Two hours, Ramon. If he isn’t standing in that ring when the sun hits the east wall, I hand the farm girl to whichever pack wants her, I give Aurora to the highest bidder from the mountain packs, and I strip Bloodmoon of its trading charters. If your son wants to clear his name, he stands in the dirt."

Vance turned on his heel and strode up the stone steps, his heavy guards falling into formation behind him. Ramon stayed near the gatepost, his head hung low, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle in his cheek twitched violently in the torchlight.

The cellar beneath the hall was cold, damp, and smelled of rotting grain and sour ale. The single iron grate high on the wall let in only the dead, freezing draft of four in the morning.

When the guards shoved Dane and Destiny inside and dropped the heavy iron bolt into place, Sonia was already standing by the back wall, her face ash-gray in the gloom.

She didn’t look at Destiny at first. She stepped straight up to Dane, her hands shaking as she reached out to grab his jacket, her breath coming in fast, shallow hitches.

"Look at where we are," Sonia whispered, her voice trembling with raw panic. "Look what you’ve done, Dane. You were supposed to step out into that ring as Alpha of Bloodmoon. You were supposed to take Aurora’s hand."

"Mother, leave it," Dane muttered, staring at the flagstones.

"I won’t leave it!" Sonia’s voice cracked, a low, desperate sound scraping out of her throat. She whirled on Destiny, her eyes wide and bloodshot.

"Who are you? What did you do to him on that road? You bring your family’s problems into Silvercrest’s court, and now Marcus is in a dungeon hole three floors down with his jaw caved in because he tried to stop this!"

Destiny backed against the rough oak doorframe, her left shoulder throbbing where the guard had yanked her around. "I didn’t ask him to bring me inside," she said, her throat dry and raw. "I told him to leave us at the outer gate."

"Then he should have left you!" Sonia cried out, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders shook violently. "He should have left you in the dirt! Now nineteen packs are sitting out there waiting to tear my boy to pieces because they think he chose a peasant girl over King Vance’s daughter!"

"Sonia, that’s enough," Ramon said, pushing the cellar door open and stepping inside. His face was like gray stone, his shoulders hunched.

"What did Vance say?" Sonia asked, rushing to her husband and gripping his forearms. "Ramon, tell me we aren’t letting him go out there."

"He gave us two hours," Ramon said flatly. "Until the sun hits the east wall."

"Then we fight our way out," Henrik said from the doorway. He stepped into the room, his fists clenched, his knuckles swollen from the earlier scuffle by the gate. "I talked to the men near the pump. There are twenty wolves lined up for the challenge. Every single one of them wants to kill Dane to prove to Vance that they’re worthy of Aurora. We take the side passage, break Marcus out of the lower pit—"

"Marcus can’t walk, Henrik," Ramon cut him off, his voice dead and devoid of hope. "His jaw is split and his ribs are crushed. If we make a move, Vance’s enforcers execute him in his cell before we even hit the courtyard steps. And then Vance sends two hundred broadswords into Bloodmoon territory before noon."

The cellar fell completely silent.

Dane sat down heavily on an upturned wooden crate in the corner, resting his forearms on his knees. His split knuckles were black with dried blood. "Nobody is fighting their way out," Dane said softly. "I took the girl into the ring. I let Vance take the insult. I stand in the dirt."

Destiny couldn’t take the suffocating air in the room for another second. She pushed past Henrik and slipped out into the cold corridor.

The passage was narrow, dark, and lit only by a single tallow candle stuck in an iron wall ring. She leaned her back against the rough stone, her chest heaving as she swallowed back the hot burn in her throat.

Footsteps scraped on the dirt behind her. Dane came out and leaned his shoulder against the masonry a few feet away, staring down at the floor.

"You’re lucky," Destiny muttered, her voice raspy.

Dane glanced up at her, his brows pulled low. "Lucky?"

"You get to look at your family," she said, wiping her cheek violently with the heel of her hand. "They’re breathing. They’re standing in front of you. Mine are three floors down under the stone, and they don’t even know if I’m alive."

She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and fierce. "This is on me. I shouldn’t have let you help us on the ridge. I told my dad to trust you. If I had just kept my head down, he wouldn’t be sitting in a dark pit with his face broken."

"Stop," Dane said. His voice was low, but it carried a sharp, bitter edge. "Don’t take credit for my mess."

"It is my mess—"

"I knew what bringing you inside meant," Dane cut her off, stepping closer until he was blocking the draft from the archway. "I knew the elders would throw a fit. I was angry, Destiny. I didn’t want Vance’s daughter, and I didn’t want to stand in that ring like a dog on a leash so he could hand me a bride. I saw an excuse to blow up his ceremony, and I took it."

Destiny stared at him, the air catching in her lungs. "You brought us in just to spit on him?"

"I thought he’d yell," Dane said, his jaw clenching as he looked down at his ruined knuckles.

"I thought he’d fine my pack, take our timber rights, maybe force a public apology. I didn’t think he’d throw your father in a hole. I didn’t think he’d line up twenty wolves to tear your throat out. I played a stupid hand, and now you’re paying for it."

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