Kael’s grip on the blood-stained parchment tightened until his knuckles turned completely white, the thick paper crinkling under the immense, bone-crushing pressure. The heavy scent of fresh pine, old iron, and deep-seated defiance drifted from the formal challenge. It wasn't just a petty political snub; it was a direct, calculated insult to his absolute authority as the Alpha of the Blood Moon.
"Alpha Valen," Kael growled, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that made the heavy stone floor beneath them tremble. "The man is a stubborn fool fighting a territorial war that ended a century ago. The shadows are literally swallowing the continent, and he wants a traditional death match."
Marcus crossed his massive, scarred arms, his expression hardened into unyielding stone. "The Iron Ridge has
