“You expected anything different after all that you’ve done?” asked Matt. “I almost banished an innocent wolf because of your lies! How can you expect me to overlook that, to trust you?” He shook his head. “You no longer have a place here.”
Rachelle didn’t speak; she just gawked at her Alpha. But Ally could feel her rage and resentment rising, burning Ally’s skin until she thought it would blister.
Ally tilted her head. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Being banished and isolated, I mean.”
Rounding on her, Rachelle cracked her neck. “You want to duel? Fine. We’ll duel.”
“Rachelle . . .” Zeke tried to pull her away, but his mate shrugged him off.
“Don’t. You don’t care whether I’m hurt,” Rachelle accused him. “You know you might survive my death, since we’re not fully mated, so you don’t even care if I die!”
“That’s not true,” he maintained. “I’m trying to protect you!”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Step aside, Zeke,” ordered Matt, pulling Zeke with him as he backed away. The other Collingwood wolves followed their Alpha’s lead, giving the females plenty of space to duel. “This is between Ally and Rachelle now.”
Derren cupped Ally’s nape as he kissed her temple. “You can take her, baby. Finish this so we can go home.”
Feeling that both he and his wolf were in turmoil despite their confidence in her, Ally gave a reassuring smile. “Gladly.”
“I love you,” he whispered low enough for only her to hear. He backed away before she could respond, signaling for Eli, Bracken, and the Phoenix wolves to do the same.
“Don’t hesitate,” Taryn told her. “Do what you have to do.” Ally understood what she meant: if Rachelle refused to submit, kill her.
Jaime nodded. “Smack the bitch down, Ally.”
Focusing her attention on her opponent, Ally kicked off her shoes and took on a strong, stable stance: feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, claws unsheathed. She also kept her expression totally neutral, her gaze locked on Rachelle with lethal intent.
Ally planned to fight as hard and dirty as she’d been trained to do, well aware that since Rachelle was equally dominant they were well matched. Ally had seen her fight, knew the bitch had some good moves and didn’t mind cheating. As such, she didn’t intend to give Rachelle any openings, especially since her craziness could give her an edge.
The tension had Ally’s wolf still, coiled, and raring to strike. Right then, the animal was infuriated, vengeful, and restless with the need to end this shit. For the wolf, it was all very simple. Rachelle was a threat. And any threat to Ally was a threat to Derren. Ally and her wolf would eradicate every single one, would do whatever it took to keep him safe.
Ally had never really liked dueling, but sometimes it was the only language shifters understood. Although she detested Rachelle, Ally hadn’t wanted it to come to this. Not because she had any mercy for the heifer, but because she had the distinct feeling that Cain was right: Ally would have to kill her.
Taking a life wasn’t something Ally had ever done before. As a Seer, she was used to trying to save her pack from danger and death, not fight to the death. But she was also Beta female now, and that meant being strong for her pack and doing whatever she had to do.
Standing there, so many emotions flowed over her: the worry, aggravation, and support of her allies; Rachelle’s fury, bitterness, and nervousness; the shame, guilt, and anxiety belonging to both Matt and Zeke; the contrary emotions that flitted through the crowd.
The Collingwood bystanders had turned silent. Their anticipation, anger, and confusion almost made her itch. Although they couldn’t deny to themselves that Rachelle was guilty, there was still an element of uncertainty there. They hadn’t yet accepted what they had heard, didn’t want to admit to the fact that they had been so easily fooled and had wrongfully isolated and targeted Ally.
Rachelle balled her hands up into fists. “Last chance to go home.”
Go home? “You really are a nut job.” Ally struck. No warning. No holding back. She rammed her elbow into Rachelle’s throat at the same time as she stabbed her claws under the bitch’s breastbone.
Stumbling backward, Rachelle doubled over, expelling a whoosh of air. To her credit, she didn’t take a moment to recover, didn’t move her eyes from Ally. Instead, the blonde straightened up, eyes shimmering with rage. She raked her claws, narrowly missing Ally’s face. Apparently, Rachelle was out for blood.
Ally had long ago learned not to telegraph her moves, to give nothing away. Rachelle, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have been taught any such lesson. So when the heifer dipped her chin and cocked back her arm, Ally easily ducked and slipped out of range. Again and again, Ally sidestepped her punches and kicks, allowing her opponent to tire and weaken from blood loss.