Page 79 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

And so am I.

The battlefield is chaos.

Blades flash. Wolves clash. The cries of the wounded pierce the air.

My sword cuts through an enemy, blood splattering against the dirt. Another rogue lunges for me, and I shift mid-strike, my claws ripping into his side before he even has a chance to react.

But through it all, my senses remain attuned to her.

Hazel moves like a shadow, her warriors following her lead with unwavering loyalty. The Omegas she trained are relentless, cuttingdown their opponents with the ferocity of soldiers who have everything to prove.

And then I catch that acrid smell.

Damon.

He stands amidst the carnage, his fangs dripping with fresh blood. His face is unreadable, but when his eyes meet mine, I see his intention clear as day: to take me down.

I don’t hesitate.

I lunge, my head colliding with something hard, the force of it sending vibrations through me. He counters, moving with the skill I’ve always known him to possess.

But this is different.

This isn’t just a fight.

It’s the end for him.

I drive him back, my strikes relentless, my fangs and claws reaching for him, clashing, biting, slamming into him.

I get him in a headlock. All my wolf wants to do is crush his skull to pulp.

You betrayed your pack, I say through my wolf link.

He claws at my hands, trying to get free, but I tighten my grip, my claws piercing deeper into his flesh.

I did what I thought was right, he says, his voice fading from the link as he shifts to his human form.

He manages to wriggle out, earning himself a slash across his chest. He grabs a blade lying right beside him.

I partially shift, my wolf extending in my fangs and claws, his strength filling my bones. I knock Damon’s blade aside, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against a fallen tree. His breath chokes out, his hands scrambling against my grip.

“You led our enemies here,” I growl, my wolf raging beneath the surface. “You brought death to our people.”

His eyes burn into mine. “And what do you think your father did?”

The words strike like a blade. That’s low, even for Damon. He knows the last thing I want is to be compared to my father. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure I’m not like him. If endingDamon here and now means this past never comes to confront me again, then so be it.

I don’t loosen my grip.

Damon’s hands claw at my wrist, his voice rasping. “I watched him burn this pack from the inside out. I watched him take from the weak, from those who dared to stand against him.” His breathing is uneven, his strength fading. “And I saw you—his son—rising to take his place. To be just like him. Letting a rival bitch distract you, letting the other packs manipulate you. I saw you headed the same route!”

I snarl, my grip tightening. “I am not my father. You saw me build myself and this pack. How dare you compare me to that scum of a wolf?”

He lets out a broken laugh. “But you believed me without hesitation. When you pushed Hazel aside, cast her out, it showed more of who you are Kieran. So, tell me, do you know what you were then?”

I pause because there is truth in his words.

For a time, I was my father’s son.

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