Chapter 63: The Scent of Blood
Bradley
Bradley’s paws pounded against the forest floor, each thud a drumbeat of fury. The earth trembled under his rage, his presence sending a wave of terror through the woodland creatures. Rabbits dove into their burrows, birds scattered from the canopy, and even the insects seemed to fall silent in his wake. He had one thing on his mind, one goal that eclipsed all others: eliminating his biggest problem. Everything would be fine if Alpha James just ceased to exist. The thought consumed him, burning through his veins like wildfire.
Huffing, he paused, his great head swinging from side to side, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. The forest smells - pine, earth, decay - barely registered. He could feel someone, probably Sam, pushing against his mind, trying to link him, a frantic, buzzing intrusion that grated against his consciousness. *Bradley, stop! Think about what you’re doing!* The words echoed in his head, pleading, desperate. But his wolf refused to be denied any longer. The beast within had been caged for too long, forced to watch as another male claimed what belonged to him. With a snarl, he blocked out all attempts, shoving a mental wall of pure rage between them, and pushed forward, determined to end James once and for all.
Soon, he crossed the border, the scent markers of Bloodmoon a foul insult to his senses. The territorial markers reeked of James, of possession, of everything Bradley despised. He prepared himself for war, his muscles coiling with anticipation. He quickly ran past the few measly warriors stationed at the edge of the territory, their look of surprise making his wolf smile with grim satisfaction. He knew they were weak, undisciplined - James had always been too arrogant to properly train his pack. Bradley headed straight for the pack house, a monstrosity of wood and stone that held his mate captive.
When he arrived, James stood outside, waiting for him. It looked like someone had warned him, but that made no difference to Bradley. His resolve was absolute. He came to a skidding halt, dirt and leaves flying in a spray around him, a growl ripping from his throat - a sound of pure, unadulterated murder that promised death.
"I’ve come for what is mine," Bradley snarled, the words a distorted rumble in his chest, barely recognizable as human speech.
James smirked, a cold, confident expression that only fueled Bradley’s rage. The bastard actually looked amused. "We’ll see about that." He slowly undressed, his movements deliberate, almost theatrical. He had been training earnestly since he knew this fight was inevitable, that it would happen sooner or later. Some of the Bloodmoon warriors rushed forward to defend their Alpha, their loyalty touching if misguided, but James waved them off with casual authority. "This is a fight between Alphas. Stand down."
James shifted into his wolf, a powerful grey beast with eyes like chips of ice, cold and calculating. They both circled each other, a dance of death as old as their kind, their lips curled back to reveal wicked canines that gleamed in the fading light. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. Then they lunged.
Bradley wasted no time, his rage making him reckless, throwing caution aside like a discarded cloak. He aimed for James’s throat, wanting to be done with it, to feel the life drain from him and watch those arrogant eyes dim forever. But James, sensing his desperation and using it against him, evaded the attack with a swift twist of his body and countered with practiced precision, his jaws clamping down on Bradley’s shoulder with bone-crushing force.
Pain exploded through Bradley’s body, white-hot and blinding, but it only fed his fury. He twisted, snapping at James’s face, his teeth catching the other wolf’s ear and tearing. James yelped and released him, blood streaming from the wound.
The fight continued, a brutal whirlwind of fur and fangs, neither wolf willing to yield. It didn’t stop even when the Goldmoon warriors, led by Sam, arrived, forming a tense, snarling circle around the battling Alphas. Sam’s face was pale, his eyes wide with horror at what he was witnessing. The snarls and the sickening snap of teeth filled the air as both packs watched with bated breath, unable to intervene in this sacred, terrible ritual. They clawed at each other with savage intensity, and soon drops of blood, dark and slick, coated their fur and turned the ground to mud beneath their feet.
Trishelle
Trishelle was taking a nap, the afternoon sun warming her skin through the window, when she was awoken by a familiar, terrifying feeling. Her heart raced, and her skin tingled, the way it always did whenever Bradley was close. The mate bond, even strained and denied, still sang between them. But this was different. It was sharper, laced with a pain so intense it made her gasp, her hand flying to her chest as if she could physically grasp the sensation.
She sat up, disoriented, her hand flying to her chest. She was surprised to see two women in her room, a blonde and a brunette, standing by the window like statues, their postures rigid and watchful. How long have they been there? Had they been watching her sleep?
"What’s going on?" she asked, her voice hoarse as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor.
The two exchanged a nervous glance, a silent communication passing between them, before the brunette spoke with forced cheerfulness. "Nothing dear, Alpha James just wanted to let you know that he’s busy at the moment, so he didn’t want you feeling bored or lonely when you woke."
Trishelle frowned, suspicion creeping up her spine like cold fingers. That was weird. James always made time for her, his presence a constant, suffocating blanket she couldn’t escape. Maybe something urgent came up, but she could entertain herself. She surely didn’t need to be babysat like a child.
A sound came from outside, a distant, guttural snarl that vibrated through the floorboards and rattled the windows. Her wolf stirred, recognizing something in that sound. She stood to peep through the curtains. Why were they closed anyway? It was the middle of the afternoon.
The two women rushed to block her, their bodies forming a wall between her and the window, their smiles too bright, too forced. Smiling, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, the blonde spoke quickly, words tumbling over each other. "Why don’t we visit the library? Alpha got some new books brought in this week. He even found that author you liked."
Something was up. Whatever it was had to do with what was taking place outside. Was Bradley here? Had he found a way for her to leave? Hope flared in her chest, painful and desperate. She needed to check for herself, but the women looked like they would hog-tie her if she didn’t comply, their eyes hard despite their smiles.
Sighing, she nodded, playing along, forcing herself to appear calm. "Okay, let’s check out those books."
As they made their way downstairs, a painful, agonizing howl rent the air, tearing through the house like a physical force. It was a sound of pure suffering, primal and devastating, and Trishelle had never heard it before, but she could feel her heart break with the sound, shattering into a thousand pieces. It was Bradley’s. She knew it with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, the mate bond screaming the truth at her.
She needed to get outside. She needed to see. Maybe it would be easier to escape from one than from two? Pausing on the grand staircase, she rubbed her belly, a protective gesture that had become second nature. "Would it be okay if I had something to snack on while I read?"
They exchanged glances again, clearly weighing their options. "What would you like?"
Trishelle cupped her chin, thinking fast, her mind racing through possibilities. "I think the little one is craving some cookies and milk." She made her voice soft, almost childlike, playing on their assumption that she was docile, compliant.
A sigh escaped them, a gust of relief that told her the ploy had worked. This was easy to get, and Alpha James had instructed them to keep her happy and inside. The younger of the two, the blonde, went off to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing down the hallway, and Trishelle counted to five before she shoved the older woman aside with strength born of desperation and raced to the front door.
Pulling it open, she took the steps two at a time, her bare feet slapping against the cool stone, and headed toward where she could now clearly hear the sounds of fighting taking place - the snarls and yelps of pain that made her blood run cold. The brunette woman tried to pull her back inside, her hands scrabbling at Trishelle’s arm with surprising strength, but it was no use. Trishelle was driven by something primal, unstoppable.
Rounding the corner of the house, she noticed a crowd gathered, a tense mix of Goldmoon and Bloodmoon wolves in their human forms, their faces pale and drawn. Trishelle pushed her way through them, ignoring their protests, their shocked faces a blur, until she could clearly see two massive wolves battling to the death in the center of a clearing. No one tried to stop them. No one dared.
As she stared, her heart seizing in her chest, she recognized them from the last fight they had, the memory still vivid and nightmarish. She could see that James was wounded, a gash on his flank leaking blood, but Bradley was even more injured. A deep bite wound, shockingly close to his jugular, poured blood down his chest and neck in a steady stream that made her stomach turn. The extreme blood loss was making him slower, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, and James was taking advantage of it, darting in and out like a predator toying with dying prey, wearing him down with calculated cruelty.
"Bradley!" Trishelle screamed, the name tearing from her throat, raw and desperate. She fell to her knees, the impact jarring, as a sharp, blinding fear and a pain so intense it ripped through her like a physical blow stole her breath.
The sound made everyone freeze, both wolves and the watching crowd, turning to her in unison. She screamed again, another pain, this one low and deep in her belly, slicing through her like a knife. She held her stomach, her hands trembling, and knew that something was seriously wrong. She felt a warm, wet stickiness trickle down her inner thighs and knew without having to see that it was blood. The baby. Oh God, the baby.
Before she passed out, she saw Bradley and James shift back into their human forms, covered with blood and gore, their wounds stark and terrible against pale skin, running toward her. The raw, naked fear in their eyes made her realize that maybe, just maybe, they’re not that different at all. Both men, both desperate, both terrified of losing her.
That was her last thought before the world went dark, swallowing her whole.