The gnawing fear in Nick’s belly flared and faded into numbness. She sought out the other Conclave members and found them watching the fight the same way, with a mixture of disbelief and discomfort.
They wanted Coleman to win. He’d ignored their official decision, gone rogue and killed Aaron, and it didn’t matter. Having him back in power would be preferable to having Derek.
Her father’s hands tightened again, hard this time, as if he was afraid she couldn’t keep her feet on her own. “Say the word and I’ll end it. Even if it tears everything apart.”
“No.” Derek was still fighting. He sank his teeth into Coleman’s leg again, only a glancing, shallow bite, but he was still fighting. He hadn’t given up on her, and she wouldn’t give up on him. “Derek can do this. He’s winning. That’s why Hoffman and the others are so worried.”
He could do this. He could win, and turn their world upside down.
Still trembling, Nick watched.
The last time Derek had felt pain this intense, he’d gone down human and woken up a shapeshifter.
He wrenched his body out of the way of Coleman’s next attack, taking some comfort in the fact that it was slower than the previous lunges. But Coleman wasn’t the only one slowing down, and every second that passed brought another layer of agony.
Instinct that had been sure and confident at the beginning of the fight had begun to waver. Coleman was older, but he had cunning on his side. He’d hit Derek’s left shoulder so many times the pain was starting to drift toward a terrifying numbness that made it hard to maneuver.
He had to end the fight. He had to kill Coleman.
He had to figure out how.
He darted back, and his bad leg chose that moment to give out. They hit the ground, Coleman on top of him, and it was only a minor blessing that the powerful jaws closed on his shoulder instead of his throat. Coleman shook him so hard that pain exploded through him, and Derek put everything he had into twisting away.
It was Nick’s tiny, terrified gasp that gave him the strength to fight the pain. Coleman had killed Aaron in cold blood in front of her. He wasn’t going to get a second chance to hurt her like that.
Derek rolled, hard and fast, and slammed Coleman’s injured side into the ground. The older wolf’s jaws opened on a yelp of pain, and Derek wiggled free. He couldn’t feel his shoulder anymore, and he didn’t need instinct to tell him that was bad. Time was running out.
So he gathered everything he had, bared his teeth, and lunged.
He hit while Coleman was still struggling to his feet, and the wolf went down with a snarl. Claws sliced into his injured shoulder, and Derek ignored it. Ignored the pain and the fear of losing his arm for good and the shocked murmurs around them as Coleman began to panic, to struggle with frantic desperation.
Derek had worried there might be hesitation when he closed his teeth on his enemy’s throat, but the wolf rose in giddy triumph as he snapped his jaws shut, tasted blood. Coleman’s body jerked underneath him, his efforts slowing.
His second bite crushed his opponent’s throat. His third tore it open. Blood gushed, and Coleman writhed for a few final seconds and fell still.
Silence reigned around the circle, broken only by Nick’s hoarse, ragged sobs. Derek took three trembling steps back and dropped to his haunches, trying to spare his shoulder. He had no doubt that the numbness suffusing his body was only a temporary reprieve. Shock and adrenaline would soon fade, and he sure the hell wanted to be in human form before it did.
Finding the energy to shift was the hardest thing he’d ever done. The wolf fought him, high on the thrill of victory, and his injuries made the magic sluggish. Changing was usually easy, a burst of magic that burned through his body too fast to register pain. This time it crawled, dripping over him like molasses and leaving pain in its wake. It took too long to feel grass under his knees and, by the time the power faded, he was panting for breath, his left arm limp and useless at his side.
The wolf howled its outrage at being vulnerable in the face of so many potential enemies. Derek ignored it and focused on the only one who mattered, forcing out her name in a ragged, broken whisper. “Nick.”
She wrenched free of her father’s grasp and ran to him, skidding to her knees in the grass beside him. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m okay.” A lie, and they both knew it.
Her hands slipped over his blood-slicked skin. “Can you stand? You have to.”
He had to face the Conclave, accept his victory. And tell them where to shove their council seat. He felt like he’d lost a game of chicken with an eighteen-wheeler, and he’d happily sleep for a week, but he pulled himself to his feet and managed to stand, though his grip on Nick’s shoulder had to be hurting her.
It was Hoffman who faced him first, his face set and almost angry. “The Conclave heard your challenge, and Noah Coleman accepted it. You prevailed. Under our laws and traditions, that which was his is now yours.”
There were traditional phrases, things Nick had taught him over the past three days. Everything seemed blurry through the haze of pain and he had to struggle to get any words out. “His fortune and his property should remain with his family.”
Ochoa nodded, obviously at least mildly appeased by the concession. “That leaves his council seat. We were going to strip him of it, but your challenge took precedence. Since he still had it…”
Derek didn’t want it. Every day would be a battle, a fight for change that no one around him wanted, and it would tie him to a world Nick only wanted to escape.
Validation wasn’t worth it. So he straightened and met Ochoa’s gaze squarely. “I respectfully decline.”
Derek may as well have grown a second head. The man’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “You have to want it. Why the hell else would you have risked this fight?”
If they didn’t understand things like love and loyalty, nothing he said could make them understand. “Because my Xbox broke and there wasn’t anything good on TV. Are we done?”
Ochoa opened his mouth, but Nick interrupted him with a growl. “Where’s the doctor, Jorge?”
“He’s waiting inside,” he told her, his gaze still on Derek. “If a winner can’t walk out of the circle, he’s not much of a winner.”
“I won everything that matters.” Derek squeezed Nick’s shoulder once and released her, letting his hand fall to his side as he turned. Every step sent agony shooting through his body, but he ignored it as he walked to John’s side.
Nick’s father nodded once, in acknowledgement or maybe gratitude. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he murmured. “We’ll talk later.”
Nick waited until they were out of sight of the gathered crowd, just inside the mansion’s back door, and grabbed him. “It’s okay. They can’t see you anymore.”
Sometimes he forgot how strong she was. Pride had gotten him inside, but it was Nick’s stubbornness that got him across the room and down the hallway when his vision had already begun to swim in time with the pounding of his heart. “My arm’s bad, Nick. Really fucking bad.”
It took her a moment to answer. “It’ll heal, and that’s what matters.”
He wasn’t feeling nearly so confident. Then again, he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all, which probably had a lot to do with the trail of blood he’d left behind them. “Promise you’ll still love me if I end up with one arm.”
“Baby, I don’t care if you only have one of everything.” Her voice had taken on a strained quality, and he realized he was leaning heavily on her. “But if you don’t stop talking like this is it, I’m going to smack you.”
“That’s my Nicky. Violent to the end.” He reached up with his good arm and braced it against the wall. “I think I’m gonna pass out now, if that’s okay.”
She probably responded, but he didn’t hear it. He was too busy putting action to words.