Page 120 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

Hamish shouts and rants, but the wolves keep coming our way. Eight of them, and then nine, ten, a dozen, all going to stand with the Albion and Cambrian Packs. The rest stay where they are.

“We would like to negotiate,” I call out. “Enough blood has been spilled.”

“No.”

“We—”

“Cowards negotiate. Werewolves fight. Is this a challenge?” He looks at Bishop. “Nod, and I will know what that means and I will trust you to give me time to transform.”

Bishop doesn’t move. He just stands at my side, letting me speak for him.

“A challenge would depose you and your sons, and that is not what Bishop wants. He has already overthrown two Alphas—”

“Is that a threat?”

“—and he has no desire to overthrow you. Your Pack is too large to be properly managed, and you have three capable heirs. Step down and let your sons divide it.”

“Coward!” Hamish snarls. His voice rises. “He refuses to challenge me. Do you all hear that?”

“Bishop and your sons wish for a peaceful—”

“Then I challenge him!” Hamish’s voice rings out. “I challenge Bishop Danvers to single combat for the Alphahood of the Caledonian Pack.”

His enforcer charges at Bishop before Hamish can move. Taking his Alpha’s place. Ending the threat before the challenge can be accepted.

I lift my fingers in a spell, but Bishop lunges forward, snarling, and a low growl from Rufus tells me to hold my magic.

Bishop and Hamish’s enforcer face off. The other man is as big as Rufus and not much older. He’s also still in human form, though, which makes this a fair match.

“Stop this,” Hamish snaps. “I issued the challenge. I’m the one fighting.”

“No,” I say, my voice rising. “Your enforcer is right. He’s saving you from an Alpha challenge you didn’t need to issue.”

One Hamish is too old to win, though I won’t say that.

“No one wants your death, sir,” I say.

“Kill him,” Hamish snarls at his enforcer. “Kill the whelp.”

The enforcer runs at Bishop, who leaps, his jaws clamping on the man’s meaty forearm. The enforcer swings the arm and Bishop loses his grip and goes flying. He recovers before the enforcer can reach him and feints out from his next charge.

One of the Caledonians who hasn’t transformed lets out a shout as he barrels into the front line, a wolf at his side. Fights break out then. Bishop has ordered his wolves to stand their ground until attacked—and not to kill unless absolutely necessary. But when the fight comes to them, they must meet it and they do.

As Bishop fights the enforcer, Hamish stalks toward the battleground. Ann and I both move into his path.

“No,” I say.

“I will not stand on the sidelines like an old man.”

“If you need someone to fight, you have us.”

His lip curls. “I don’t fight women.”

“We’re descended from werewolves.”

“You are nothing. You think your mate gives you some honor letting you speak for him? You played the role of puppet, mouthing his words, and you should still count yourself grateful for that much. It’s the only taste of power you’ll ever have. Now get out of my way.”

“No. We will not attack you, but if you attempt to join the fight, we will stop you. This is our job. To carry out the promise Bishop made to your sons. That no one will touch you unless you attack, and they will not kill you, no matter what.”