They carved the circle out of old bone and black ash.
No spells. No mercy.
Just two Alphas. And the truth between them.
Kael stood shirtless, bare-chested, shoulders gleaming with war paint. His mark over mine still raw. His eyes locked only on one thing.
Not Tiber.
Me.
And Tiber—gods help me—he smiled like the battle was already his.
The Hollow stood silent.
No pack calls. No howls. No drums.
Just the sound of breathing, and the soft hiss of ash in the wind.
I watched from the edge. Dren at my left. Corvan at my right. The bone dagger still hidden beneath my cloak.
Only one may walk out when the sun sets.
Tiber moved first.
Fast. Heavy. Brutal.
Kael blocked the first blow, but the second landed across his ribs. Blood sprayed. He staggered.
I gasped.
But Kael didn’t fall.
