The chandelier swayed.
One second it was a staged noble dinner. The next, it was a battlefield.
Alexander hit Henry like a thunderclap. No warning, no words—just raw alpha force slamming into Henry’s chest and driving him back through the mahogany table. The wood splintered with a crack that echoed through the hall. Plates exploded, wine arced across the floor in dark, blood-like splashes, and the smell of roasted game mixed with ozone and rage.
Henry didn’t stay down. He roared, claws tearing free, and drove his shoulder into Alexander’s gut. They crashed into a pillar, stone cracking under the impact.
Fists flew. Not the clean, controlled blows of training—this was brutal, personal. Alexander’s knuckles split against Henry’s jaw. Henry drove his knee into Alexander’s ribs, then ra
