Chapter 35: The Heir

The announcement came not through Damon's usual channels, but through a formal summons delivered by Kael's hand. Elena stared at the parchment, the Vance family crest embossed in crimson wax. Her father's seal. She hadn't seen it in months, not since the night she'd been sold. Kael stood in the doorway of the penthouse's study, his expression unreadable. "The Alpha received word this morning. Your father has officially named Lydia as his heir." The words landed like a blow to her chest. Elena's fingers tightened on the paper, the edges cutting into her palm. "He wouldn't." "The ceremony is in three days. All the major packs have been invited." She read the summons again, the formal language blurring. Marcus Vance, Alpha of the Silver Crest Pack, declared his eldest surviving daughter, Lydia Vance, as his successor. There was no mention of Elena. No mention of the daughter he'd sold for a blood contract. She was erased, as if she'd never existed. But she had existed. She had been the heir once. Her mother had trained her for it, taught her every law, every tradition. And now Lydia, the sister who had orchestrated her sale, would take everything. Elena's vision tunneled. The study walls closed in. She could feel Damon's presence behind her, silent and watchful, but she didn't turn. She wouldn't let him see her break. "There's more," Kael said, his voice dropping. "Your father is using the ceremony to announce an alliance with the Crimson Fang. Lydia's marriage to their Alpha's son." The Crimson Fang. The rogue pack that had hunted Damon's bloodline for decades. The same pack her father had made a deal with to eliminate Damon. Now he was binding his pack to them permanently. "He's selling the entire pack," Elena whispered. "Not just me." "The Alpha wants to know what you want to do." She finally turned, meeting Damon's dark gaze. He leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, his face a mask of cold control. But she saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers dug into his biceps. "What do you want to do?" Damon asked, his voice low. Her thoughts sharpened at once. She had planned to destroy her father's reputation, to expose his deal with the Crimson Fang, to reclaim her freedom. But this changed everything. If Lydia became Alpha, the pack would fall under the Crimson Fang's control. Damon would be surrounded by enemies. And her mother—still trapped in that house—would be at Lydia's mercy. "I can't let this happen," Elena said, her voice steady now. "There has to be a way to stop it." Damon pushed off the shelf, stepping closer. "Under pack law, a disinherited heir can challenge the new Alpha for the right to lead. But you'd have to prove you're worthy. And you'd have to fight." "Then I'll challenge her." Kael's gaze broke open. "Elena, you haven't been in the pack for months. You're out of practice. Lydia has been training with the Crimson Fang's warriors." "I don't care." Damon studied her, something shifting in his gaze. A flicker of respect, maybe. Or concern. "If you challenge her, it's trial by combat. No weapons, no interference. Winner takes the pack." "When?" "The ceremony is in three days. The challenge must be issued before then, and the combat happens at the ceremony." Elena's pulse beat hard. Three days. She had three days to prepare for a fight she might not win. But she had no choice. If she didn't act, she'd lose everything—her pack, her mother, any chance of revenge. "I'll do it," she said. "Tell my father I'm challenging Lydia for the right to be Alpha." "You can't just walk in there," Kael said. "You need to issue the challenge formally, in front of witnesses. And you need a second." "I'll be her second," Damon said. The air caught behind her ribs. "Damon, you can't. If I lose, it'll reflect on your pack. The Crimson Fang will use it against you." "If you lose, you'll be dead. I don't care about politics." There was no room for argument in his voice. She wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He wasn't doing this for strategy. He was doing it because he believed in her. "Fine," she said. "But I'm not losing." "Good. Because I'm not letting you." That night, Damon took her to the training room in the basement of the penthouse. It was a converted garage, the floor covered in mats, the walls lined with weapons. He handed her a practice blade. "You remember the basics?" "I remember." She took the blade, testing its weight. It felt foreign in her hands, but familiar at the same time. She had trained for years before her father sold her. She had been good. "Show me." They sparred for hours. Damon was relentless, pushing her to her limits, correcting her stance, her grip, her timing. She was rusty, her movements stiff, but she could feel the muscle memory returning. By midnight, she was breathing hard, sweat soaking her shirt. "Again," Damon said. "I need a break." "Lydia won't give you a break." He circled her, his eyes sharp. "She's been training with warriors who fight dirty. She'll use every trick to take you down." "Then teach me the tricks." He did. He showed her how to use an opponent's momentum against them, how to strike vulnerable points, how to break a hold without strength. She absorbed every lesson, her body aching but her mind sharp. On the second night, she was exhausted. Her muscles screamed, her hands blistered. But she didn't stop. Damon didn't let her. "One more round," he said. "I can't." "You can. You're stronger than you think." She looked at him, saw the determination in his eyes. He wasn't going to let her fail. And for the first time, she believed she might actually win. On the eve of the challenge, Elena couldn't sleep. She paced her room, running through the combat forms Damon had taught her. Her stomach churned with nerves. She went to the kitchen to get water, but as she passed the dining room, she noticed a plate of food on the table. A note beside it, in Kael's handwriting: "For strength tomorrow." She smiled. Kael had been cold to her since she arrived, but he was trying. She picked up a piece of bread, brought it to her lips—and stopped. The smell was wrong. Faint, almost imperceptible, but she recognized it. Wolfsbane. The plant that could weaken a werewolf, slow their reflexes, dull their senses. Her heart stopped. She dropped the bread, backing away from the table. Someone had poisoned her food. And the note had Kael's handwriting. But Kael wouldn't do this. He was loyal to Damon. Unless... unless he was still loyal to her father. Elena stood in the dark kitchen, her hands trembling. The challenge was tomorrow. And someone wanted her to lose.