Page 75 of Her Broken Alpha
She rushed forward, fear a rush in her ears, ignoring Monster’s men shouting for her to stop from outside the cage.
Her mate was a gory, disgusting mess bathed in the refuse of a human butcher shop. But he was her heart and soul, and the stranger had wounded him without raising a finger.
She darted between them, trying to push Monster back and growling like a possessed wild animal. She couldn't stop herself. Somewhere in the fog, she heard her common sense screaming for her to get back, that she was being foolish. But it didn't matter; the situation had brought out her instincts.
Curving her fingers into claws she glared a challenge at the cloaked man, baring her teeth in a snarl.
But Monster’s hand was collaring her neck, his other arm looping around her ribs and pulling her back against the wall of his chest as he backed away from the hooded challenger.
Instead of attacking, the man before them went to his knees. He pulled off his hood and revealed a scarred and weathered face. He looked up at them briefly, eyes glassy and full of their own kind of pain, before he bowed his head.
"I yield to Nothonal Darre! I yield to the Second Son of King Rhineholth. I, Rhineholth the First, offer my neck!"
Behind her, Monster growled a denial. Waves of confused emotions spilled through their bond, drowning her in his uncertainty.
There were whispers and movement all around them. Bodies bent to look, fighting to see. Naya flicked her eyes around the room and to the balconies, discovering her own shock mirrored in the spectators’ faces.
King Rhineholth, subdued, submitted, waited from the blood-stained floor with a plea on his face. Struck silent at seeing the king here, no other sounds interfered with Darre’s father when he said, "Forgive me. I asked you before and you could not. I ask again. I offer my life, my son. Forgive me?"
The former King of the 12 Sectors had come to the sector of the damned to face the Mad Monster of the Tower.
Chapter Nineteen
Darre
His sire, down on his knees in the blood of Darre's enemies, was offering his neck—his life. A month ago Darre would have torn into the other man without a second thought, teeth ripping and claws tearing.
He would have granted no mercy to the rival who had stolen every opportunity for peace and happiness in his life. His father, the betrayer, the liar—the man who had established the monstrous, dictatorial alpha-only government—was kneeling before him.
His self-righteous, narcissistic father, King Rhineholth the First.
Watching him subjugate himself, his eyes closed in resignation, Darre remembered far more about this relationship than he wanted.
He’d spent a childhood with his father, a childhood both good and bad. He remembered that Rhineholth's betrayal in respect to his dear Alennie had not been the first, but merely the last Darre had allowed.
The memory of his mother's admonishment drifted back to him.
"If I have forgiven him, you must forgive him."
"No,” he had told her. “It's in your nature to forgive, and it's in mine to hate. I will hate him until the day he dies at my hand."
Now was his opportunity. He had tried before—after Alennie's death, he had challenged his father, and Rhineholth had ignored him. In Sector 2, no challenge went ignored. Here an alpha always forgave a man who yielded, bared his neck, and submitted to the stronger alpha.
It was the only rule of the pit.
"Get out. Go back where you came from," Darre said, his tongue thick.
"Nothonal—"
"Don't say that name. Leave. Now."
"Your mother wishes to see you."
"I am an outlaw. I cannot, will not, see her. Didn't you hear me? Are you deaf, old man?"
"We need to talk."
Darre growled. He'd had enough. Leaving his father on his knees, he pulled Naya closer to his chest.
