- THE FIGHTING RITUAL 1
Delilah
We arrived at the Blue Moon Pack. Our convoy came to a halt right in front of the place I once called home. The memories rushed back like a flood, each one sharper than the last. I blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall.
The convoy consisted of six sleek, black luxury vans, more than I had expected. I never imagined I would return to this place, let alone accompanied by people I barely knew.
In my van, King Maxwell sat beside me, his presence both comfort and a reminder of my purpose here. His sister, Rowan, occupied the seat behind us. Rosa and Zod were also with us, despite Zod’s injuries not having fully healed. For reasons unknown, he had insisted on coming.
The Beta, Cross, rode in another van, along with some of our pack members. The rest of the convoy was filled with warriors.
“Are you ready to walk into your home?” Maxwell’s deep voice broke through my thoughts.
I turned to glare at him. He chuckled, amused by my reaction. I swatted his arm.
“Stop that,” I muttered.
Rowan cleared her throat from behind us. “Make sure you don’t consume anything here today. Maybe after the fight.” Her voice was low but firm. With that, she stepped out as soon as the King’s bodyguards pulled open the door.
Maxwell studied my face. “Are you nervous?” His voice held genuine concern.
“Nervous?” I scoffed. “I’m only doing this for you.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes before he captured my lips in a quick but searing kiss. His fingers brushed my hair back gently.
“They’re waiting for us, my queen. Whatever happens, I’m here to protect you.” His promise wrapped around me like armor. I nodded.
He stepped out first and extended a hand to help me down. My black leather pants and jacket clung to me, but the gray trench coat I wore over my outfit gave me an added sense of security. My high–heeled boots crunched against the gravel of the mansion where I had once lived.
Ahead of us, Farrell and Raymond stood alongside the Pack’s elders, their expressions unreadable. Sandra lingered at a distance, separated from the rest. My brows furrowed in confusion as I met her gaze.
“Welcome to the Blue Moon Pack, Your Majesty and Your Highness. We are honored to receive His Majesty today.‘ One of the elders spoke formally.
“Delilah, we greet you as well. Welcome home,” the Gamma, Sandra’s father said with a stiff nod.
Then, Raymond took a step forward. “Delilah,” he murmured before pulling me into a tight embrace. “I missed you so much.”
I stiffened, feeling Maxwell’s disapproval radiating behind me. I pulled away quickly.
“I missed you too. How have you been?” My voice was careful, guarded.
I barely had time to process his answer before Maxwell’s arm wrapped around my waist possessively. Farrell’s scent drifted toward me, familiar yet foreign now. I saw it in his eyes too, the way he held himself back.
1/3
- THE FIGHTING RITUAL 1
+25 BONUS
Maxwell’s voice sliced through the moment. “I don’t think we need to waste any time. I suggest we proceed with the reason we’re here.”
While he spoke with Farrell, I let my gaze wander in search of Sandra, but she had disappeared. What I did notice, however, was the hushed whispers and wide–eyed glances cast my way. My survival had shocked them.
Just weeks ago, they celebrated with me. Then, they had betrayed me for Sandra.
“Please, we have made arrangements for your arrival. Shall we move inside?” an elder suggested.
Maxwell gave a curt nod, and we followed them into the large conference room. An extravagant feast had been laid out, platters of roasted meats, rich stews, and goblets of wine.
“Your Majesty, you have not eaten. Please, taste the delicacies,” the Gamma offered.
Maxwell didn’t spare the food a glance. “I didn’t come here to eat or drink. My mate and I are here to put an end to the abomination that festers in your pack.”
Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog. No one dared challenge the King. However, the pack witch finally spoke.
“The field is ready for the ritual. Shall we proceed?” She bowed her head, but something in her stance felt…off. There was a subtle shift in her energy, something I couldn’t quite place. I tried to read her mind but found nothing.
Then, for the first time, Rowan reached out to me through the mind–link.
“Delilah.”
I responded immediately. “Yes, Rowan?”
“Be vigilant. Something is wrong. I can feel it.”
I tensed but gave her a subtle nod.
The ritual site was the same field where Sandra had stolen my crown, the place where my life had been ripped apart. I scanned the faces around me, searching for any sign of deception, of hidden threats.
Maxwell took his seat among the others while Rosa approached me, removing my trench coat. Her voice was low when she spoke.
“Don’t forget, always use your hidden gift against your opponents. It will help you. But don’t use magic in front of them. We can’t let them know our little secret.”
Something about her warning unsettled me. My instincts screamed that something wasn’t right.
The park witch began her incantations at the center of the field. I watched closely, still unable to read her mind, or Sandra’s. That in itself was alarming.
Then, the air shifted. The smoke from the ritual’s fire thickened, its scent heavy and unnatural. My body wavered. My limbs felt heavier by the second.
Panic rose in my chest. Something is wrong.
Movement.
Before I could react, two massive Lycans appeared before me. Their claws wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air.
- I struggled, kicking, clawing at their grip, but they were too strong.
2/3
- THE FIGHTING RITUAL
+25 BONUS
I turned iny gaze to the others, desperately trying to call for help, but to them, everything appeared normal.
They couldn’t see what was happening to me.
My strength drained rapidly. My vision blurred. My heartbeat slowed.
This is it. This is my death.
Darkness closed in. My fingers twitched weakly, grasping at nothing.
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