The challenge did not come quietly.
It never did.
It started with a shove in the training ring. A hard one. Public. Meant to draw eyes.
I had been standing beside Derek, watching sparring drills, trying to look like a Queen who belonged there. The air was thick with sweat and tension. Wolves circled the ring, their voices low, their attention sharp. Everyone knew a challenge was coming. They always came when power shifted.
The senior wolf stepped forward without asking permission.
His name was Rorik. Old blood. Broad shoulders. Scarred face. He had served the Montenegro line longer than Derek had ruled. He did not bow.
“This pack needs strength,” he said loudly, his voice carrying. “Not uncertainty.”
The ring went quiet.
I felt it before Derek reacted. The slow rise of heat under m
