Chapter 77: Chapter 77
I didn’t say anything. I just watched him.
Through our pack bond, I felt it—Christian’s wolf was close. Too close. Like it was scratching against the inside of Christian’s skin, desperate to break free. The aggression radiating off him was almost suffocating.
"The challenge must be settled within forty-eight hours," Christian said quietly, not turning around. "Single combat. Hand-to-hand and in wolf form. No interference allowed."
My stomach twisted. "Christian—"
"If I lose, I lose the Alpha title. My claim to Shadow Ridge. Everything." Christian finally turned to face me, and his eyes were different. Harder. "And technically, my position as your mate becomes void."
I opened my mouth and closed it. The bond between us flickered with something violent and possessive from Christian’s end.
"You won’t lose," I heard myself say.
"No," Christian agreed. "I won’t."
He said it the way he said business projections. Factual. Inevitable.
I got out of bed and crossed the room to him. I wanted to touch him, to ground myself in the reality that he was solid and here and not dead or stripped of everything. But something in his expression stopped me.
"I need to train," Christian said. It wasn’t a request. It was a statement. "I need you to understand that for the next forty-eight hours, I’m going to become something you might not recognize."
"I recognize you," I said.
Christian’s jaw tightened. "You recognize the businessman. The mate. But right now, I need to be the predator. The Alpha. The thing that fights for survival." He paused. "Can you handle that?"
I nodded. I wasn’t sure it was true.
Christian moved through our quarters like someone on a mission. Shower. Combat training clothes. His laptop opened to video files I recognized immediately—footage from Harold’s previous fights, spanning decades. Harold’s patterns. Harold’s weaknesses. Harold’s go-to moves.
"During the boardroom meeting," Christian said, eyes locked on the screen, "did you notice anything about Harold’s physical condition? Any old injuries? Any compensation?"
My brain was still reeling. "His left shoulder. He kept favoring his right side."
Christian nodded and made a note. He didn’t thank me. He just kept analyzing.
By the time Marcus arrived, Christian had already consumed three cups of coffee and reviewed seventeen hours of combat footage.
Marcus came in with the formality of a warrior and the concern of a brother. "The protocols are set," Marcus said, laying down documentation. "I’ll be your second in the Arena. The challenge will begin at sunset tomorrow. The forty-eight-hour window closes after that."
"Harold?" Christian asked, not looking up from the screen.
"Training. He hired specialists. Word is he’s been preparing for months." Marcus’s expression darkened. "Christian, the pack is fractured. Some members are questioning Sophie’s involvement in the business decisions. Some traditional Alphas are calling it Luna overreach."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Christian finally looked up. "Then the battle tomorrow isn’t just about me and Harold. It’s about what version of this pack prevails."
"Yes," Marcus confirmed.
Christian turned to me. "Are you prepared for that?"
I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway.
The visits started in the morning.
Pack members came to our quarters seeking reassurance—or confirmation, I wasn’t sure which. Senior warriors expressed doubt about my role in pack business. One senior Alpha, Patterson, literally asked if I was exerting "undue influence" over Christian’s decision-making.
I wanted to punch him.
Diana showed up mid-morning and threw Patterson out with the efficiency of someone who’d been doing it for decades.
"Some members view your corporate involvement as a threat," Diana said bluntly, settling into a chair in our living room. "They see you as a symbol of change. They’re scared of change."
"So they’re going to let Christian die because they don’t like my business strategy?" I snapped.
"No. They’re going to watch Christian prove himself through combat, which will settle things more effectively than any argument could." Diana leaned forward. "But Sophie, your guilt is showing. And guilt makes you sloppy."
I started to argue, but Diana cut me off.
"You’re blaming yourself for the boardroom victory. You think it caused this. But Harold orchestrated this entire sequence.
Harold wanted to lose the business battle so it would provoke the challenge. Your victory didn’t cause this. Harold did. Stop
spiraling and start supporting your mate."
I wanted to argue that I caused this. But Diana was already walking out.
Connor requested a private meeting in the afternoon.
He showed up in our suite looking like a completely different person than the corporate lawyer I knew. There was something dangerous in Connor’s movements. Something lethal.
"I have combat training," Connor said without preamble.
"Extensive combat training. I want to help Christian prepare."
Christian studied Connor for a long moment. "You’ve fought before."
"Yes," Connor said. No explanation. No justification.
"Why?" I asked.
Connor glanced at me. "Because protecting people matters.
Because sometimes combat is the only language people understand." He turned back to Christian. "I can teach you Harold’s patterns more effectively. I can help you counter them."
Christian nodded. "Let’s start immediately."
The training was brutal to watch.
Christian spent hours in the private facility with Marcus and Connor, working through combat sequences with the intensity of someone preparing for war. Christian’s transformation into wolf form was aggressive and fast, way more violent than I’d ever seen. The growls coming from Christian’s wolf were almost feral.
I watched from the observation area, fingers gripping the railing so hard I thought I might break it.
Marcus was relentless. Connor was analytical. Together, they pushed Christian past every limit I thought Christian had.
By evening, I was exhausted just from watching.
Then Harold sent me a video.
I sat in our bedroom, alone, and watched Harold demonstrate fighting techniques in a private facility. Harold was strong. Harold was fast. Harold was clearly well-trained.
Harold’s message was blunt: "I’ve been preparing for this for months. Tell your mate he’s walking into a fight he doesn’t understand. I orchestrated the business battle specifically to provoke the challenge. I let you win, Sophie. I needed Christian to be overconfident." I felt sick.
