“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag now,” Drake said, his vicious smile twitching. He leered at Lola as she walked into the Pit. Behind her, he saw his father and Russel Polver take their seats. “Daddy can’t protect you from me now. And neither can your Oclan mutt over there. Right here and now, it’s just you and me and this time, you ain’t getting away. By the end of this, there ain’t gonna be enough of you left to bury.”

“Big talk,” Lola retorted, her heart pounding. “Let’s see if you can back it up now. It’s not going to go like it did the last time we met.”

She took a deep breath in through her nose and then let it out through her mouth. Her heart pounding had nothing to do with Drake or fear, it had to do with the excitement brewing inside her at the chance to finally get her revenge. Memories of that night, the same ones that haunted her pretty much every night, came flickering over her mindscape again. The fires. The blood. The death. Her father’s last words, telling her to run.

It fueled that excitement, and that need to kill him. To make him suffer horribly for what he did. She knew it wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Even knowing about her werewolf heritage, it wasn’t going to be a sure thing. She still had no idea if she could even shift. There hadn’t been a whole lot of time to figure it out and even though she’d had a few practice sessions on the way to the castle with Finley and Russel, she hadn’t managed to change at all. She couldn’t even sprout claws. At one point, she thought she might’ve made the nail on her left index finger a quarter inch longer but that also could have been her imagination.

“It’s gonna be fun tearing into you, dear sister,” Drake said, his voice grating on her nerves.

“We’ll see how much fun it is for you after I rip out your throat,” she snapped.

King Finley rose then and addressed his two children in the Pit. He looked regal in his black suit. His hair was neatly brushed and styled. He looked every bit a true monarch. He raised a hand into the air and almost at once, the conversations and whispers throughout the room shut off.

“A Blood Challenge has been issued. The issuer, Drake Charles Wittam, has declared his intent to fight Lola Tarnvol, formally of the kingdom of Alcroft. She has now been recognized by myself, King of Harvenk, as a daughter and heir to the throne. It is for this reason Drake has issued his challenge. The winner will become sole heir and the loser will forfeit their claim, and their life.”

He let the crowd take in that information, and carefully watched Lola’s face as he did. The Blood Challenge was, traditionally, a duel to the death. She’d known it, of course, but saying the words out loud brought with it a sort of grim finality. One way or the other, he was about to lose a child. He had tried so hard, painfully so, to set Drake on the right path. A path of resolute strength but also of compassion for those he would one day lead. But as he grew, so did the beast inside him. It gained a hold on his mind, digging its way deeper and deeper so it could anchor itself forever in his son. He should have done something, he knew, but he could never bring himself to act. Despite all his flaws and all his cruelty, Drake was still his son.

And then Drake entered Alcroft and slaughtered dozens of people. All in an effort to find and kill the sister he hadn’t known existed. She was a threat and that monster in him didn’t like that. It reacted. And because of that, a whole new course for their lives had been laid.

Which led them all here and now.

To the Pit.

He cursed himself silently for being so weak that he couldn’t deal with his own son. It had been a horrible mistake and one that he hoped Lola would not have to pay the price for.

“The rules of the match are simple,” Finley continued, making sure to keep his voice strong and even instead of thick with the emotion inside him. “Both of you have entered this fighting circle. Only one of you will leave. The fight is between the two of you and as such, it will remain in the circle at all times. The Blood Challenge will end when there is only one left standing.”

He eyed both of them, sad resignation on his face.

“Begin!”

As soon as the word erupted out of his throat, Drake came for Lola. He darted forward with a speed that was hard to track, his face already changing and warping. They took on canine features, his teeth being pushed out of his mouth by fangs. His eyes flashed with amber light and his fingers lengthened into wicked claws.

Lola wasn’t the scared girl that Drake had first encountered. She was more now. Much more. She watched him come for her, tracking his movements despite how quick he was. Dozens and dozens of lessons with Russel, even her fight with the ghouls, came back to her, empowering her muscles and limbs to act almost like they had minds of their own.

And then there was that weird sensation of hers. That rippling of what felt like ice water down her spine. The one that only happened if a supernatural entity was trying to attack her. It gave her forewarning, she now realized and a forewarning she knew she would desperately need. It made her movements even faster, fast enough to rival even Drake’s power.

He got to her, slashing down with his right hand in an effort to shred her face and part of her upper body. She saw it coming, felt the sensation, and deflected the blow to one side. It was easy too. Like child’s play.

He went stumbling past her, evidently not expecting to be blocked so easily. He managed to regain his balance, let out a roar of anger, and came for her again.

Again, his attack was thwarted. This time, however, she simply stepped out of the way. She moved with a fluidity and grace that was almost mesmerizing to watch.

“Stay fucking still, bitch!” he snapped, his jaws clanging shut on the word as if trying to amputate it.

Lola didn’t respond and instead, just laughed mockingly at him. She gestured for him to come at her, throwing as much insult into it as she could. She was instantly rewarded with more roars of anger and attacks done through a veil of blinding rage. The anger made him sloppy. Made his attacks easy to predict and counter. In the first ten minutes of the match, she was barely even breathing hard. Drake, on the other hand, was practically foaming at the mouth and could barely keep himself in check.

But her run of good luck started to take a turn for the worse.

Drake’s rage became too out of control. Too wild. The ease with which she could predict his movements suddenly went out the window. He became erratic. He would dart all around the pit, more and more of his features turning wolfish. She knew then what he was doing. He was letting the wolf take over. He was letting his humanity slip. She’d only seen it once before, when Russel had done it to save them from the ghouls and the oni. He had been a terrifying sight. A creature that had sparked a terrible, primal fear inside her so overwhelming, she often wondered how she’d managed to stand up to him. She imagined Drake would be much worse. Deep down, she’d known Russel loved her and that he would never hurt her. Drake was the complete opposite of that.

He absolutely wanted to hurt her.

“Face it,” he taunted. “You’re nothing but a weak, pathetic, human. You might have our father’s blood but you have none of the wolf’s strength. That much is clear.”

Lola wanted to retort, but his speed started to increase. That wild sensation along her spine was going haywire. It felt like a rod of ice had been slammed down the entire length of her body. She was having trouble focusing because of it.

A burning pain suddenly bloomed to life on her right shoulder. Drake had slashed her and there hadn’t been a damn thing she could do to stop it. She let out a grunt of pain and put a hand up to where it hurt. It came away wet with blood. She felt her sleeve get soaked and looked over to see ragged tears in both the cloth and her skin. Blotches of red stained it and she could feel more blood running down the length of her arm. She struggled to get hold of herself but the sheer speed and ease with which he hurt her did manage to scare her this time. She took a couple of steps backward, trying to put some distance between them.

Drake, on the other hand, had no intention of letting up or giving her room to breathe.

He came at her again, eyes flashing with that frightening amber light and claws extended.