"She must be a good fuck, huh?" the male spits at us.

"Like this, Brat." We slam the male's head into the mat, showing the Brat how to press the heel of your hand into your opponent's neck, forcing their chin to extend at an angle that cuts off their airway, effectively strangling them.

The male kicks and squirms while the Brat leans close until his nose is nearly touching the back of our hand, examining our hold. The Brat's knee is lodged in the male's back, his hands holding the pinwheeling arms in place.

"Not bad," the Brat admits. His hold is good, too, the male unable to move his torso.

The male falls still all at once, like a deflated balloon. The murmur of the other males, already defeated, rise behind us. Others snicker. Dark males with even darker tattoos scrawling over their skin. They fought their own battles, occasionally calling out encouragement to us.

Like now. "Oy, pendejo! You alive?" one of them jeers at the unconscious male at our feet.

"They are feral fuckers, ey?" another chimes in, laughing so hard he's crying.

"I swear to the goddess, why are they here? LoboGris fled north with Carm," the Brat mutters.

"The young male is mated to your sister," we explain.

The Brat is on his feet, charging toward the young male, a heartbeat later. "Whoa!" an older male, the Beta of the LoboGris, powerful and scenting of witch and fucking, intercepts the Brat. "Easy, pup. You're all done nearly killing opponents today, si?"

"Beta Rique," the Brat says sullenly, his body vibrating with energy. "I just want to talk to him. He knows my sister." The Brat's eyes narrow on the younger male. "Velia," he says his sister's name flatly.

The young male's face splits into a large grin. "Not as well as I will know her soon, ey?"

I wrap my arms around the Brat, not letting him leap at the young male. He should know how a male feels about his female. Brat is feral.

At the same time, the older male warns, "I'll let him end you, Vicente."

The young male rolls his shoulders. "Oy. I'm not insulting my Velia. I meant that she and I are destined, sí?"

"Sure, that's what you meant," the Brat says sarcastically.

The young male glares at the Brat. "I'm no culero. Velia is my female, my mate."

"How the fuck old are you?" the Brat snarls.

"Old enough, sí?"

The Brat snorts. We pull him more tightly to us, ready to intervene if the young hothead leaps at the Brat. "He does not scent of his female," we point out to the Brat in a low voice just at his ear.

The Brat relaxes, but the young male stiffens at our words. "Su padre took her away and hid her, sí?" He steps closer to us. "You know where she is?"

The Brat smirks, but we feel the sadness lurking in his false smile. "Nope," he pops out.

The young male curses in a low voice before turning and stomping off abruptly. The older male heaves a sigh, before nodding toward the mat. "May want to check on him. Make sure he's breathing."

The Brat returns to the mat, bending over and feeling for a pulse. We hold the older male's eyes. He is a Beta, a seasoned warrior with a witchy mate and pups. We inhale subtly. Daughters. Several of them. And he is still trying for more pups if the reek of his witch on his dick is any indication.

He keeps his eyes steady on us, but his wolf isn't agitated. We are also calm, there is no threat here. He is a satisfied male. "Going to the meeting later?" he asks us finally.

We nod. "Yes. Our mate is the Beta," we say proudly.

He nods, a smile twitching as his lips. "So I've heard. Congratulations on your mating." His eyes flicker to the Brat, who is now helping the male stand, patting his back. The Brat is kinder than we are. Feral, but a good male. He is like fire and we are like ice.

"You should Mark them both soon, sí? Don't make the mistake of letting the bond go unsettled for too long."

We nod, contemplating. Rules and traditions role through our mind. History. Myth. Do we Mark the Brat first because he has Marked our female? But, she is Beta. She should Mark us, first.

Bitter wickedness stirs deep in us, cold and dark. She may refuse. We were not true to her. We did not honor her as she deserved. The feet of us roils, ill and filled with shame. His fault. Our fault. The cage is broken. We share the blame.

Need is sharp and demanding in us. It has been hours since we last saw her. "We need to go see our mate," I tell the Brat in a hard voice.

The Brat looks up at the clock. "Shit, it's been hours," he complains in a low snarl. "Where is Ili? The meeting is soon."

The defeated male is forgotten, limping to join his brethren who press themselves against the far wall trying to hide from us. We leave together, hot and cold, fire and ice, to find our female.

---

I relax as I pat my hair dry from my shower. My entire swim class was absent of angry males. It was great. I have no clue where Sean and Braxton are right now, but my she-wolf seems to be settled after weeks of uneasiness, so I assume that they are still here, training.

Tying my hair up on my head in a damp bun, I pull on my spandex and get ready to leave the locker room. I pause with my hand on the door. Staring at my chipped nude polish that Bailey had insisted on three days ago, the uneasiness returns. Those signs warning off anyone but the swim class worked like magic. During swim practice, I saw at least two wolves approach the pool, then read the sign and turn around. Now that I'm leaving the area I feel some of the anxiety rushing up.

I turn back to the locker room to look in the mirror at myself. Hank taught me this, the self-affirmation stuff. I think it's a little like 'fake it til ya make it,' but sometimes it does make me feel better. The yoga pants and cami I'm wearing for dance reveal everything. I've got a little meat on my bones again. I'm still skinny, but I don't look like I'm hanging out on death's doorstep anymore.

I can walk down the hall without incident. At least I know Georgina is somewhere else and I don't think any of the Beta contenders will openly harm me before the official Challenges.

And, Sean and Braxton are somewhere nearby, my she-wolf reminds me. Thanks for that, girl. As if they've been around for longer than fifteen hours.

I leave the locker room with as much confidence as I can muster with my she-wolf huddled on the ground, trembling from nerves. The hallway is fairly empty. I take two steps when I hear my name being called. My she-wolf's tail thumps on the ground. Some of the tension drains out of me.

Bailey comes rushing toward me, her generous curves elegantly highlighted by the dark blue lycra jumpsuit she's wearing. Her curls bounce as she skids to a stop, chest heaving, in front of me. I scowl at the two males nearby, staring at their luna inappropriately. My glare is less effective without Sean and Braxton behind me, but when they finally notice me giving them a death stare, they both go pale and drop their gazes before scurrying off.

"Hurry up, Conner! I want to show Ili her surprise!" Bailey calls out to someone behind me.

Alpha Conner strides up behind me, eyes glaring at the disappearing males. My she-wolf wilts a little. We're still not intimidating.

"Alright, honeydoll, let's go," Conner says. "'Morning, Ili."

"Good morning. I get a surprise?" I ask him with more than a little trepidation. The last time he surprised me, only last night, didn't go very well, in my opinion. I didn't even think he would be here this morning. It's not on the schedule.

"I've been 'bonding' this morning with... well, just let me show you your surprise." Bailey tugs me around the corner, down the hall. As we approach a set of new double doors I catch a whiff of paint. Wolves scatter out of our way. It's more crowded down here. I'm trying to remember what was down this hallway before when my attention is caught by the alpha female candidates.

My she-wolf crouches low, her upper lip curled up to expose her canines in a silent threat to the avarice being thrown our way. These bitches do not like me and the feeling is mutual. Bailey, for her part, ignores them entirely. Oh... bonding. With these bitches? Gross.

Pushing open the double doors, Bailey pulls me into a brand spanking new dance studio. I gasp in appreciation, staring longingly at the dance space, as shiny as a new penny. Dance class was always popular in the pack and my classes were considered to be less important than the other dancers and cheerleaders because I was training for figure skating. If I keep ice dancing I'd die from happiness to practice in a studio like this.

"Do you like it?" Bailey asks. Behind us file in the alpha female candidates. Many of them did cheer with Georgina. They must be attending their own dance class.

"It's really nice," I reply to my luna.

"This is yours, too. Look!" Bailey pulls me over to a bank of windows.

I press my hand to the glass. It's chilled, much colder than the dance studio. "Wow," I breathe. Wow. In front of us is an ice rink. It's perfect. The ice... blue and dark as if no blades have ever touched its surface. I feel my mouth drop open.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" a familiar male voice asks me.

"Will?!" I spin around to see my ice dancing partner standing behind me with a huge grin on his face, his arms held out to his sides for a hug. I oblige, laughing, still feeling a little shell-shocked.

"So this is new?" Will says, looking a little stunned himself. "And we're training here?"

"I guess so?" I tell him, looking at Bailey.

My new luna smiles, "surprise! We had it ready a week ago, but then... everything happened," Bailey explains.

"The ice isn't ready yet," Conner adds, shaking Will's hand while my ice dancing partner eyes the massive alpha with amazement.

"Thank y-" I start to say.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" a clapping noise heralds a long-familiar voice. "We are dancing, not chit-chatting. Let's go." Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Madame Rivers?" I spin around, astonished at seeing the face of the famous dance instructor. Tall, with eyes the color of mint and skin that looks way too youthful what I suspect her real age is, Madame Rivers is one of the best ballroom dance instructors in the country. Will's mom has been trying to secure a consultation with her for months. I only worked with her for two classes, years ago.

"Yes, yes, Iliana. Very good to see you too. Let's begin, shall we?"

In a daze, I let Will and Bailey pull me to the center of the dance studio. The alpha female candidates line up behind us, but Madame Rivers' attention is all on Will and me. She leads the warm-ups, ignoring the other dancers for the most part. When she does pay them any attention, it's cringingly harsh.

"No! Knees together! You are completely graceless! Look at Iliana, how she holds her body. Imitate if you can."

It takes all of my concentration to keep my attention on my own form in the mirrors in front of me. Occasionally, I glance at Will or Bailey, but I do a good job of avoiding all the other females.

Madame Rivers glares at Bailey and I tense. "Very cute," she announces, as Bailey does a wobbly toe-touch. Bailey tosses me a wink as I stifle my giggle. Bailey is awful at even stretching, but Madame Rivers just smiles at her and moves on to insult another alpha female candidate.

"Terrible," she snarks, before moving on. "We will dance now."

---

We jog down the corridor, urgency behind every step. Beta Rique had shouted after that we stink as we left the gym, so we showered quickly before leaving to find Iliana.

"Is this shit new?" I ask Sean.

"It is," he says, his voice cold and bland as usual. I swear to the goddess, the male is operating without a full deck. Feral fucks like Sean are typically out-of-control and wild, not icily controlled like him. Freak.

"Is dance the best activity for her?" I mutter as we push open the doors to the new hallway.

"No. We don't know why the alpha has agreed to this," Sean admits.

"That's what we said. Don't repeat," I say just to mess with him and his 'we.' He rewards me with a glance of confusion. "Do you think she requested it, like the swimming?"

"We agreed to the swimming," Sean replies.

"We didn't agree," I continue to test him.

"She was a champion skater," Sean says quietly.

"I know," I poke him. "She's been skating and winning since she was seven. We saw her skate in competitions more than once and take home the top prize," I say slyly. Poke. Poke. Feral fucker.

"She was beautiful?" Sean says, his voice becoming quieter, more introspective.

A memory hits me out of nowhere. Ili skating out there on the ice, all alone, a tiny figure in a dark purple-red dress. She was skating to a haunting melody, her face chalk-white, lips the color of bright blood. She was supposed to be a vampire bride or some shit. I had nightmares for a week afterward of her lonely figure skating away from me, but yeah, fuck yeah, she was erethral.

My feet falter, almost causing me to stumble. Sean takes a step ahead of me before realizing he's left me behind. He grinds to a halt. My wolf reacts instinctively. I throw one arm around his neck and the other around his chest.

"He's touching her," he grounds out in his voice of utter self-loathing and pain. "Brat, he's touching our mate."

The doors swing open and I understand. It's an ice rink with a series of sparring rooms attached. Across the blue ice, Ili is dancing. The rink is for her because she's skating again. I knew that. I smile until I manage to see what Sean does.

Some punk is touching her.

The smile fades from my face slowly as fire, fills my veins. I can see my breath in the cold air, but it feels like smoke from the flames in my gut. Rage as I see a masculine hand on her hip slid up her back to cup her beautiful cheek. I can see the caress like a fucking brand of filth on her perfect body. Her lips are an inch from his, their breath mingling. Their arms wrap around each other, her legs spread wide open, vulnerable to his every touch. He cradles her body, cupping her leg, sliding up her thinly-clad thigh as she wraps it around his waist. The spinning in my head is matched by their graceful, sensual foreplay.

I choke as my wolf rises, murderous. We'll kill this male who holds her so intimately. Taste his blood on our tongue then taste her pretty little cunt.

No, Braxton. Don't hurt Ili again. She won't give us a fourth fucking chance.

I fight my instinct. I fight against the hands pulling me back, still holding onto Sean as I hear a cruel laugh in my ears. I feel my back slam into something hard, as I howl my fury. The impact frees Sean and he takes off toward the sight of that male touching Ili. I scramble at the ground with my claws, but can't find any purchase. Falling, I slide on my stomach until a heavy weight comes crashing down on my back.

My big brother, my new alpha, Conner's hot breath washes over my face. "She deserves to have this," he growls in my ear. "They are finally starting to dance and skate the way she could before and I'm not letting you fuck this up for her."

"Fuck you!" I snarl at him. I am not going to hurt Ili. Conner curses and leaves, grabbing Sean by the throat and slamming his head against the ice. I try to right myself and stand, but all my eyes see is her, wrapped around another male. Her face is breathlessly peaceful in a way it never is with me. It's like they are fucking over there. She can't... she just can't be with another male. I can't survive this.

"Mine, she's mine!" I snarl, pacing, my hands tearing at my hair. My head is buzzing as if from repeated blows. My wolf is howling, so hurt and angry at the thought that she is replacing us.

"She's beautiful, isn't she? She's not a loner. She's not weird. She's gorgeous and everyone in those stands out there can see it," Conner is standing in front of the windows to the room Ili is in, grinning macabrely.

"His hands!" Sean whines in pain. He is crawling over the ice, equally unable to stand.

"Are all over her, Sean. She skated individual before. Now she has to have a partner. You caused this, fuckface," Conner says gleefully.

Sean whimpers and falls to his knees next to me, broken at the thought. My sweet Ili-doll. "She's mine," I croak. She is mine. She can't belong to someone else.

"He's nothing but her skating partner," Conner says calmly as he casually adjusts his athletic shorts back into place.

"He wants her," I rasp out. How could he not want someone so perfect?

"He has a girlfriend." Conner points out, then ruins it by adding, "she's not as amazing as Ili, of course."

Not reassuring at all. I need to get under control, get my wolf under control so that I can make it clear to this prancing-Rudolph-motherfucker that Ili is mine. Sean makes a sound of sheer agony, reminding me of when we were stuck up on the rock, was that only two days ago? And he was puking and shitting all over himself.

"Sean, dude," I rasp. "This is making her happy." I grab his shoulder in comfort.

"Yeah," he croaks, nodding, face white as a ghost, eyes blank as he stares at Ili.

"Yeah," I straighten my spine and nod shortly. I'm not good. The swimming, the runt little boys at school, the Beta contenders whispering shit in our ears as we teach them where they belong... My wolf is howling mad, his outrage at these other males touching and looking at his mate at an all-time high.

Sean looks at my brother. "How did you know what we said to the blond bitch? How do you know?" he asks, anguished. I tug him into my chest.

"Jackie told me," Conner smirks. "She thought you should see just how much of a loser Ili really is. The rink was Bailey's idea. Always planning ahead, my mate," he muses thoughtfully.

I manage to finally climb to my feet. Reaching down, I help Sean stand, too. We look like shit, covered in ice and blood. Fuck, we look worse after a one-minute fight with my brother than we did after sparring all the bitch contenders all morning.

"We need to go," I tell Conner.

"Shut the fuck up, Brax, and listen," he snarls. "I fucking love your stupid ass, but Caroline's death fucked you up."

I stumble back from the sudden verbal assault. "No shit!" I snarl. I take a step forward, but Conner blocks my path across the ice.

"Alright, you little fucker," my brother's hideous face screws up in a hard smirk. "You listen real good, Brax. You were never going to be my Beta. You're too fucking mean."

"Fuck you, Ugly Asshole," I seethe, fighting in vain to find a way through him to my Ili.

"You wanted the truth, Brax. You wanted to be the Beta, I get that. Don't fucking deny it. I know. You've wanted it since you were a pup. Always playing with your Sherlock Holmes detective kit like a little douche and following Dad around."

"I hate you," I snarl.