The Road to Redemption (41 page)

“No
problem.”

With all the
messy emotional crap out of the way, Reno checked over his shoulder
to see what Sam was doing and then looked back at Damien. “You here
with Sinclair?”

“Nope. I’m his
proxy.”

“His proxy?”
Reno blinked. “How’d you get suckered into that?”

“I
volunteered.” Damien scowled in the direction of Sam’s pack. “The
Alpha is old, there’s no Beta. The pack house is decrepit and they
have no money. There are too few members to run the territory
anymore. Kane needs the room to expand his pack. He can inject new
life into the area and can run the place efficiently.”

“A sound list
of complaints, but why would you want to get involved?”

He curled his
lip and spit out the words. “They’re Purists.”

“What?” Reno
spun around to study the little group. He knew better than anyone
that Purists came in all shapes and sizes, but a less likely group
he’d never seen. “Are you sure? Have they been violating the Rights
and Freedom Act in any way?”

“No, not that
I’m aware. I found out when I came across some journals belonging
to old man Harper. He was a Purist back in the day.”

“Back in the
day. But what about now?”

“Does it
matter?” Damien shrugged, his eyes narrowed as he followed Sam’s
movements. She was walking their way. “Once a Purist, always a
Purist,” he muttered.

“Where’s
Sinclair?” Sam didn’t look at Damien.

“Apparently
there’s been a slight change in plans.” Reno compressed his lips
not liking being in the middle of this. There was a definite
conflict of interest on his part, yet he didn’t want to hand this
situation over to someone else.

While Damien
had been pardoned, there was still an element within Lycan Link
that was prejudiced against him and might not judge the challenge
fairly. Plus, it seemed Damien had a bone to pick with the Chicago
pack. Reno wanted to ensure his friend didn’t lose control of his
inner wolf and let revenge take over, like it had in the past.
Purists were scum of the earth, but sometimes the past really was
the past. People saw the error of their ways and changed. Watching
Sam with her witch friend, he was hard pressed to believe she’d
ever held a Purist view. She shouldn’t be punished for the sins of
her elders.

“What’s the
change? Was he too scared to show?” Sam curled her lip in
disdain.

“No.” Damien
finally spoke. “I’m his proxy.”

“Proxy!” She
looked about to protest then snapped her mouth shut. Eyes narrowed,
Reno could sense the venom behind her stare. “Fine. Can we get
started then?”

Reno nodded.
“Damien, do you have any issues with her pack members being here?
It could be viewed as a form of intimidation.”

Damien looked
over at the group standing by the cars, a mix of emotions flitting
over his face before he shook his head. “No.”

“Then we’ll
begin.”

Sam stood on her mark six feet from Damien. Her
stance was stable, weight balanced. The slight crouch she’d assumed
was textbook perfect. Even her chin was protected.

Thanks,
Damien. She mentally tipped her hat to him. Had he’d known it would
come to this, the two of them facing off against each other? Likely
not, or he wouldn’t have helped her train. And he had helped her;
it hadn’t been a show and that was what puzzled her. If Damien was
working for Sinclair then why give her pointers on her fighting
technique? If anything, he should have refused to assist or perhaps
tried to sabotage her by sharing incorrect information.

She eyed him
noting he’d assumed a position much like her own. His face was
impassive, his eyes trained on her, waiting for the signal to
begin. He gave no hint as to what he was feeling. Hell, maybe he
wasn’t feeling anything. After all, what did he have to lose? Not
like her; her pack, her home, everything she’d ever worked for,
hoped for, could be won or lost today. Her throat tightened with
emotion. She resisted the urge to flick a glance towards where her
pack mates were seated. Staying focused was the key right now.

“The first ten
minutes will be fought in human form. Should the fight continue
beyond that point, I’ll give the signal and you may shift into
wolves.”

Sam nodded. It
was part of the Book of the Law. Since the human half of a Lycan
was considered the dominant member, they needed to prove their
worth first. If the combatants made it beyond ten minutes then they
were likely equally matched and the wolves would then be
tested.

Reno continued
to outline the rules. “The challenge will continue until one of you
concedes, the challenge is revoked or I call a halt due to foul
play. OPATA wishes it to be stated that, in principle, they
disapprove of a challenge to the death. Having said that, they also
acknowledge that it is allowed under the Book of the Law. Do you
understand and agree with the terms?”

“I do.” Sam
and Damien answered simultaneously and then both scowled at the
other.

“Begin.”

The word had
hardly left Smith’s mouth when she made her move. Nothing fancy or
pretty, her purpose was to take control, to be the aggressor, to
make her opponent defend himself.

Too bad he had
the same idea.

They met in
the middle, both trying for a vulnerable spot; the throat, the gut…
Even in a challenge they both avoided going for the eyes. There was
an understood code of honour they’d adhere to. A dirty fight was no
way to choose an Alpha.

Damien managed
to hook his foot around her ankle and they fell to the ground.
Instantly, Sam rolled to her feet and charged at him, her shoulder
hitting his chest as he got to his feet. The air left his lungs in
a wheeze. He gasped for breath, but he hadn’t trained as an
Enforcer for nothing. Keep your guard up, especially when you’re at
your weakest. How many times had that been drilled into his
head?

Damien sensed
rather than saw her aiming a kick at him; it was the type of move
he would have made. He dropped to the ground so her leg swung over
him, then came up inside her guard and flipped her over his
shoulder.

She landed
face down but rapidly rolled to her feet while spitting out bits of
dirt. A kick to the stomach was his next logical move—attacking
before your opponent gets reoriented was basic strategy—yet he
hesitated for a fraction of a second. Fighting, rather than
training, with a female didn’t sit well with him. That small delay
was enough for her to scramble to her feet and lunge at him again,
pushing him back against a tree.

“Ready to give
in?” She had her forearm pressed against his throat.

A harsh laugh
escaped him. “That’s what I like about you, Sugar. You always have
a smart comment, no matter how deep in shit you are.”

“You’re the
one about to lose.”

“Dream on.”
Scruples be damned. He shoved her back, and they ended up on the
ground again, a tangle of arms and legs. Grunts filled the air as
blows made contact with flesh, yet neither let up their assault.
Two spirits, equally determined, battled for supremacy, oblivious
to everything but the need to win.

Of one accord,
they broke away, both panting, sweat and dirt staining their
clothes. Sam swallowed with difficulty, her throat dry, her heart
pounding. How long they’d been fighting, she had no idea. Were the
ten minutes almost up? A sick feeling filled her at the thought.
When Smith announced they could shift forms, she’d be at a
disadvantage. Her human half had always been the better fighter.
While her wolf was small and fast, Damien would have the advantage
of power and weight, not to mention the ruthlessness of a
rogue.

She cautiously
began to circle to the left, searching for an opening in his guard.
Damien mimicked her movement, studying her with equal
intensity.

“So why are
you helping Sinclair steal my territory?”

He took a jab
at her, but she leapt backward. “You’re Purists. You don’t deserve
to run a pack.”

“I’m not a
Purist, asshole.”

His lip curled
in a sneer. “Right. And the notes in your grandfather’s journals
are just stories he made up for the fun of it.”

“Ancient
history. He made some bad decisions. When he realized it, he
severed his relationship with the group.” She feinted right, then
left, and then attempted to deliver a hit to his chin but he dodged
out of her way. A successful uppercut would have ensured her
victory. Damn him for eluding her!

“Leopards
don’t change their spots.”

“Wrong
species,” she snorted. “And you have no right to point a finger.
You lied your way into the pack, acted as if you were befriending
Hiram and Christopher when all along you were using them.”

A shadow
passed over his face. Regret? Not likely.

“I did what
was necessary.”

“In order to
help Sinclair. You never cared about m—” She caught herself in time
and switched her wording. “Us.” How he’d laugh if he ever learned
she’d actually considered him as a potential mate.

“Kane’s pack
is too big. They need the space.”

“And that
justifies betraying our trust? Tearing my pack apart. Taking our
home!” Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked quickly to
hide them.

He clamped his
mouth tightly shut. She pressed her advantage. If she could
distract him… “What will happen to Flo? And Hiram? No pack will
take them in at their ages. And my grandfather—”

“Purists
deserve no pity.” His expression hardened.

“So everyone
is punished for the sins of one? Haven’t I suffered enough? My
father was killed by a Purist, you know!”

Damien flicked
a glance behind Sam to where her pack members stood and his resolve
waivered. He could see young Christopher’s scared face, the worry
on the face of the witch with the neon coloured hair. Hiram’s
expression was grave and her grandfather… The old man was
expressionless. Damned Purist had no feelings. He didn’t care that
his kind had caused Beth’s death. Damien felt the rage building
within him again and returned his gaze to where Sam stood.

In that
moment, she charged into him, the force of her movement driving him
back. He stumbled on a tree root, his weaker leg giving way under
the unexpected strain of both their weights. He could feel himself
twisting sideways, falling with Sam in his arms. She felt thin and
delicate beneath his hands and a memory flashed before his eyes. He
could see himself holding her as they’d made love… No! Not love,
sex.

At the last
instant, he instinctively turned, protecting her, taking the brunt
of the fall.

“You’re
nothing but a liar!” She hissed the word as she landed on top of
him.

Startled, he
stared into her face wondering how she’d known what he was
thinking, but her next words dispelled that thought.

“You lied your
way into my pack. You lied about who you were.” Her lips curled.
“The real Dante paid us a visit.”

“You let that
scum into your pack house?” He rolled them over so he was on
top.

“As if you
have any right to judge. You’re no better than him.”

“Never,” he
growled down at her, “accuse me of being like him.”

“How are you
any different?” She bucked and flipped their positions.

“At least I’m
trying to make the world better. Dante’s only concern is saving his
own skin and lining his pockets.”

“Stealing my
territory improves the world?” She swung her hand, intent on a
karate chop to his throat but he caught her wrist before she
connected.

He shook his
head. “Stopping the Purists. They killed my mate and my child—” His
fingers tightened around her wrist.

She struggled
to free herself from his grip. Slowly, he was winning, pushing her
hand away. “Just like my father was killed. Just like they wanted
to kill me.”

“You?” The
pressure he was exerting let up and she began to gain ground
again.

“My
grandfather paid your friend, Dante, blackmail money for years in
order to keep them from finding out about me.”

A whistle
pierced the air followed by Reno’s voice. “Time. Opponents shift
forms.”

The two wolves
circled each other, heads lowered, hackles raised. Snarls and
growls filled the space between them, yet neither seemed inclined
to make the first move.

Sam studied
her opponent, noting his size; the solid black of his fur making
him seem even more massive than he already was. She should attack,
take the offensive, but her wolf was reluctant to do so. Not out of
fear; her inner animal was quick and nimble. If they came in low
they could go for his throat, his belly…

She should
make her move—
had
to make her move; her pack was depending
on her.

A few steps to
the right. He moved as well. His weaker leg gave a bit as he side
stepped. That’s where she should attack. Snap his hind leg. It was
strategically correct. Yet still she hesitated.

Another step
and another. She recalled the time they’d spent together; riding
their Harleys, eating ice cream, skinny-dipping in the lake. His
kindness to Hiram, how he’d taken Chris under his wing. The way
he’d teased her, the tenderness of his touch… A dull ache in the
region of her heart made it hard to breathe. She… Her wolf… Both of
them had thought they’d found the male they needed. Had it all been
a lie?

He’d once said
his mate had been part Fae. And now, knowing that his mate and
child had been killed by Purists, his actions made some sense. He
had every reason to hate, to want revenge. But was that even true
or was he twisting the facts for his own purpose, to help Sinclair?
And even if it was true, should her pack pay the price?

She was an
Alpha. An Alpha put duty first. An Alpha had to be strong, had to
do what must be done regardless of personal feelings.