NOT EDITED. OBVIOUSLY. 

       "I've come to challenge your Alpha."

You know, maybe Stella and I should have conjured a better plan. That only occurred to me the moment we were snatched up and bound, thrown into a van like a sack of potatoes. 

And much like the potatoes, it seemed they wanted to eat us. Only, well, alive. 

One dude had leered over us the whole time, reaching out to touch Stella onto to receive a swift bite that nearly ripped off his fingers. That sent him running.

I hadn't even gotten the chance to see Tate when they just took us. Maybe Stella was right -- I had a death wish. 

It seemed plausible when the car stopped and they yanked us out, onto our knees and face first into the dirt. I got a mouth full of pebbles of leaves till I was wretched on by my hair and dragged. 

We'd made it to the Purgatory compound - just a little North of Liam's old cabin - and stood before the daunting, concrete building. Many of the members were lounging outside and though it was only the afternoon, they already had a bottle of brandy whipped out. 

I hadn't thought, instead I had braced my shoulders and walked, head high and determined; I had solid proof I was of Purgatory descent, so how could Tate deny me? He couldn't. 

I was proven wrong when we were ambushed and I was forced to listen to Stella's shrieks for the men to let go of her. I had tried to fight them off - a swift jab to the ribs and a punch to the nose, which I'm happy to report actually broke the dude's nose  - only to receive one back, right to the eye. 

They took the opportunity to get us then.

Not to mention, the car reeked of garbage and I was sure we were laying on a pile of candy wrappers. Stella was fumbling the whole times with the ropes that were bounded over her head while one of the dudes watched in sick fascination. 

The area around my eye throbbed the whole time and my hair had been snagged from it's braid, left to lay down my back in messy waves. 

I screamed like a mad woman once we were out of that disgusting van and into broad sunlight. I demanded they take me to Tate -- I wished to converse with no one else -- but doubted myself along the way. 

When I realized where I was beginning dragged, I panicked. 

It was the building where we had retrieved Liam from, as well as the place I got my leg torn up by some angry mutt named Max. It was the first time Jeremy, Stella, and I had met and decided we would work together.

Now I guess Stella and I were going to die here if they didn't grant my request. Then only I would die if I lost. Or well, maybe Stella too. So we were doomed either way.

But I was optimistic, black eye or not. I would likely receive worst injuries by the end of the day so I had to be prepared. 

I wasn't prepared to be thrown into some pitch black room without Stella. 

Once my eyes adjusted, I could see gauzy curtains - like the one's from last time, concealing whatever mysterious that lied within - and various couches. There was no heartbeat minus my own, so I figured I was utterly alone. 

Now, here I sit, yanking at the ropes with my teeth and searching for possible windows. I was sadly greeted with nothing more than concrete walls and faux fur pillows. "What the fuck is this?" I mutter, "a brothel?"

With the amount of silk and questionable stains on the couches, it's definitely an option. 

I'd finally managed to break the ropes from my arms free and untied the one's by my feet before I went banging on the door, "let me out, you cowards! I challenged your alpha and that's who I want to see!" 

Laughter. There was laughter. 

In result, I'd ripped the door handle off and was about to slam the whole thing down when it swung open, nearly hitting me in the face and before I could even get a glimpse at the face, the door had been shut and we were both left in darkness. 

I knew they were a part of the Purgatory the minute I stayed still and dared to let their rotten stench invade my nostrils. I wondered if they had ever heard of a thing called Axe, or well, a shower. 

I'd sprawled myself onto the floor, searching for anything I could utilize as a weapon if they decided to attack. In result, I stumbled across what felt to be a nail and clutched it to my chest, hoping it was rusty so that bitch would contract tetanus. 

All I heard was slow breathing.

But then my eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark again - the splash of light had thrown me off - and I noticed the figure was tall, broad, and seemingly male. That wasn't much of a surprise, seeing as the Purgatory consisted of solely male's. But he seemed to carry a different air than the rest; he wasn't leering or snarling, nor was he even approaching. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed and bored holes into me. 

His hair was shoulder length, black, with a prominent jaw and carved cheekbones. Straight nose, fuller than average lips, and shockingly blue eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. If I hadn't known any better, I'd think he was a vampire. 

"What are you going to do with that?" His voice was deep and sudden. I hadn't realized what he was talking about till he gestured at my hand cradling the nail to my chest.

I stood slowly, leaning against the wall as I examined him. "I don't know yet," I answer truthfully. "I was debating jamming it into your esophagus or better yet, into your eye."

He has creepy eyes. It would be a win, win. 

He laughs, just like his voice, it's equally as deep and throaty. I want to ask him what's so funny; me threatening to kill him or me actually thinking I have the chance of doing so? 

It's rude, nonetheless. 

"I think there's a piece of glass underneath one of the couches from a vase we broke, if you prefer to use that," a smirk twitches it at his lips and I clutch to my useless weapon even harder.

"No thanks," I say. "I'm hoping it's rusty so you catch tetanus."

"Why would you want to kill someone you don't even know?" He questions. He must be dense. 

"Because you're apart of the Purgatory," I roll my eyes and he snorts. "Who are you? One of Tate's minions or something?"

"No," He drawls slowly, advancing slowly with his hands behind his back. "I'm Tate Weston, Alpha of the Purgatory." I flinch when he is close enough proximity to extend his arm to me. "You must be Ron, since Stella kept on screaming for you."

A lump forms in my throat at the mention of Stella. This is Stella's enemy. This is the man who kept her captive for a year and did... horrible, unspeakable things to her. This is someone I'm also supposedly related to - by pack or blood, it seems - and I'm horrified to put a face to the name I've heard Stella utter while in tears.

I want to punch him, go through with my plan and claw his eyes out, but my legs are glued to the pavement and I cannot force myself to move. "Ronnie Mars," I hiss through clenched teeth and if I could, I would dash away from the tiny corner he has - and well, I have - backed myself into and demand he never come near me. "Where is she?"

"In another room, waiting for me." He answers and he doesn't appear to be thrown off by my tone, if anything, the mirth in his eyes hints he finds it amusing.

"Don't go near her," I snarl. "I'm the one who came here to see you."

"So I've heard," He let's his hand hang limp at his side when he realizes I'm not going to shake it. "The resemblance is uncanny," his eyes trail down my form and the knot in my throat does not seize. "You're the Purgatory's former Alpha's niece, if I'm correct?"

"Yes," I say sharply. "Which means I have the right to challenge you like I requested. But it seems your minions are so stupid they couldn't process that."

"Does Liam Farley know you're here?" He asks, ignoring my remark and I huff in frustration. 

"This isn't about him," I grit. "Nor Stella or my grandfather. I want my request to be fulfilled."

"Why are you so anxious?" He tilts his head, a smile flittering with his lips. "You do realize that my men would never respect you even if you did win?"

"I don't want their respect," I push myself away from the wall and move away from him slowly. "I don't think I could ever respect a pack full of murderers and rapists anyway."

Suddenly, he throws his head and roaring laughter fills the room. I nearly jump at the sound and I almost wish he would yell at me, attempt to attack me or some shit rather than laugh and mock my threats. 

"I'm sure you find what you did to Stella was comical as well!" I shout over his laughter. At once, he stops, chuckles bubbling from his lips as he shakes his head. 

"Of course not," He answers seriously. "I think she rather enjoyed it."

"You're vile!" And it's true. And I feel sick to my stomach that he would glorify what he did by labeling her enjoying it. "You're a sick son of a bitch. You're never going to touch her and when you die, it'll be her-"

In a flash, he circles his fingers around my wrist and squeezes tightly until it could possibly snap. "Or what? What are you going to do when I could so easily br-"

I cut him off with a kick to the stomach and muster all the force I can,  stabbing the nail into his leg when he releases me. I backhand him across the face too, because, well, I felt like it. "You lied," he states with a grunt. "You said you'd stab me in the throat or eye."

"No, you'd die too easy then," I apply pressure to my wrist to test if there's any damage. "And I want you to suffer."

"Harsh words from such a pretty mouth," he muses when he extracts the bloody nail from his leg, flinging it somewhere into the darkness with a soft clink. It'll probably heal quickly, but I'm glad it at least hurt. "You were right, though. I can't deny you fighting me. My pack would laugh," he pushes himself to his feet, fingers pressed against the wound. Red dots his digits. "So we will. Right in the cage with everyone. Either you kill me, or I'll kill you."

"That's not the rules," my voice trembles. "It's till someone concedes."

"You want me to concede my pack?" He laughs and draws his hand away. The wound is gone and merely represent a cut now. "No, if you want my pack then you'll kill me for it. Agreed?"

I thrust my chin into the air, hands balled at my side. "Agreed."

I guess my plans are coming to fruition after all. 

      It's dark time before I'm lead out again.

I'd been allowed my bag back, which I'd quickly changed out of my hoodie and into a tang top. Though I'd been alone for nearly six hours, I didn't dwell much on the fact it could be my last. This was it. This is what it'd been leading to the whole time. And it still wouldn't be over if I won, it'd only be over when Beckett was dead.

The thought that he was miles away made my skin crawl.

For Stella, for Liam, for Jeremy, I kept reminding myself. The place was thrumming with music at this point and someone was always stumbling by the door, obnoxious snorts and laughter filling my ears. 

At one point, someone had banged on the door and drunkenly cried a name I couldn't decipher. 

It's funny how things change, you know. Months ago, I'd been sure I wanted nothing to do with Liam or Jeremy and Stella. Now here I was, willing to die for them if it came down to it. In the end, I'd be killing Liam off with me too, wouldn't I?

That made my blood run cold. I can't die. I won't come back this time. I can't die. 

If he's awake, which most likely he is, he's probably storming here now. That's why I need to get this over with now. At least if I die now, he won't know till he drops himself. What a terrible thing to wish for.

Then, the door swings open and pink strobe lights flood the dark room. It's Nameless; a sadistic smile coating his. 

He grabs me roughly by one arm while another Purgatory member grabs the other and practically drags me out. People scream as we pass, following closely behind with laughter and taunts and cries of joy at the prosperity of watching my death.

I feel like I'm going into the fucking Hunger Games.

For Belle, for Rosalyn, for Meredith, I think as the 'exit' door is flung open with a kick from Nameless. Goosebumps rise at the back of my neck and I can't tell if it's at the slight chill of night air or at the sight of the cage, with Tate waiting inside.

My eyes flicker across the crowd, many screaming my name and leering close to sneer into my face. Derogatory comments are thrown too, all about my appearance or what they might want to do to me. At that point, I think I actually will wretch if they continue to speak.

 I spot Stella when they lead me to the steps. She's sitting there, faces impassive but bearing a busted lip and gash across her cheek. I glance to the man beside her, only to find he has slash marks across his too and a black eye. 

My eyes widen at her but she merely watches me with an air of calmness. Before I can even call out to her, I'm shoved face forward onto the floor of the cage, earning a laugh as the door behind me slams shut and locks me in with Tate.

For mom, for dad, for Anna, I push myself up and stand before Tate who watches me with a hint of a smile. I fix my pony tail and try to put on a stoic expression, like Stella. 

My gaze darts to her once more. I refuse to look at the eager faces pressed against the cage, reaching in with grubby fingers. 

"Well?" Tate coaxes from behind me.

I face him slowly and try to hide my fear behind my mask. I shift, legs bent as I watch him do the same. The crowd roars with laughter and I don't understand why until I come to full height and realize he's much bigger, almost as big as Liam. 

He towers over me with black and brown fur, blue eyes narrowed and tongue lolled out of his mouth like he finds this as a big joke. I'm tired of being a joke. I'm not afraid. I can't be.

I crouch, teeth bared in a snarl and we circle one another. More banging on the cage occurs and their hollering Tate's name. I can tell he's waiting for me to make the first move when we continue the circle. 

For my pack. 

I dive, swatting a claw at him and he easily dodges. He jumps over me practically, taking a swat at my hind legs. I catch myself from falling and whirl to face him. 

He rams his head into mine, till we're both on our hind legs and trying to bite at each other's throats. My claws sink under his eyes while his sink into my chest. He rams into me again with his head, knocking us both down and him on top of me. 

He aims for my throat while I slash him across the face, managing to dash out from underneath him and up against the cage. You can do this, you can do this!

I gather momentum and fling myself onto his back, my teeth grazing his spine when he bucks me off and into the cage. I yelp. 

I roll onto my stomach when he copies my move and attempts to tackle once again, only this time I move out of the way so he crashes into the cage. The crowd laughs, throwing me off. 

"She's got something on him!"

"She's fast!"

"She's a dead woman,"

He rams me up against the cage once again, snarling and baring yellow fangs that drip with saliva. His teeth swipe my cheek when I duck and using all my body weight, I slam into his side making him stumble. 

And when I face him once again, he's propelling himself off of the cage, flying through the air and right into me. Right until he's on top of me and clamping at my arm. 

He's positioned at an awkward angle, looming over me as he shakes my arm like it's a damn chew toy. I howl in pain and his leg comes into sight; I immediately chomp onto him and give him a powerful tug till I hear a pop. I push into his stomach with my head and he's onto his back this time, squirming and yelping in pain at his dislocated leg. 

My arm is bleeding by then, running down white fur and onto the mat. It smears when I clamp onto the same leg, pulling as hard as I can. 

He kicks me with his other hind leg, right in the eye. But he's limping. He's not as fast or precise when I aim for the bad leg and he aims for the wound in my arm. I manage to pull him onto his stomach again and he sinks his teeth into the same spot, till I'll I'm kicking at him to let go.

His teeth dig in deeper and I take the chance to slash at his throat, nails extended. He releases me immediately.

 I aim for the other leg and give it the same treatment. My leg aches but I ignore it to the best of my ability. For family, for family, for family. 

He's down and my paws are pressed onto his chest, pushing him into the mat and I take my chance - this is it! this is it! - and sink my teeth into his neck. The crowd roars, though this time I don't think it's wish cheers.

It happens before I even see it coming. 

A syringe, familiar liquid inside, thrown onto the mat and Nameless is behind it. I let him up, only because I'm charging for that needle, when he takes the opportunity in my panicked state to slash at me. 

His nails anchor into my throat, so deep that I cannot breathe and the taste of blood is at the back of my throat. I let out the loudest howl I can manage. 

"Ronnie!"

It's a blood curling cry, one filled with desperation and I cannot tell where it's coming from. My vision clouds with tiny, little spots and my world tilts. He's squeezing the air out of my lungs. He's killing me, he's killing me-

And then he releases me, let's the air back into me and I'm forced to shift just because I can't maintain form.

In human form, I clutch at my bleeding throat. I spit crimson red saliva. Stella is right at the cage, I realize, banging on it with watery eyes. "Ronnie! Look!"

And I do, to find Tate back in human form with the needle in hand, limping towards me as I struggle for air. Focus, focus. 

I only realize the cry from earlier isn't Liam when a blonde head appears in front of the cage. Rosalyn? 

My mind is foggy as I take her in. Her eyes are coated with cheeks once again. Maybe Stella was talking about them. "We're here! We're gonna get you out!"

"You can't!" Tate roars. It's the first look at the anger. "Grab her! Grab them all!"

I've lead my pack to my death.

One by one, Rosalyn is seized by the crowd and so is Jeremy, Alfie follows and then Belle. Tristan. Marcelo. Is that Cliff? It is! I don't care for much, but then my eyes fall onto green orbs. Liam. 

"Leave!" I scream. "Leave now-"

There's a punch across my face and then Tate presses his knee into my abdomen. You guys are idiots, i think with tears in my eyes. I'm an idiot too. 

"There's enough in this needle that it's gonna kill you," Tate rasps and his fingers sink into the slash marks at my throat. I scream.

"Ronnie!" Liam's screams are horrendous. Ear piercing. 

"The hunters didn't create this, Ronnie," he bites off the cap and spites it to the side. "Your family did."

I choke. I don't want Liam to see me die again. I don't want to let anyone see me die again. "This is cheating! This is a con!"

"No," Tate laughs again, the same laugh from earlier. "We both agreed the other had to die. Not how," Tate hisses. Spit flies onto my face. I don't cry. I won't cry. 

And Tate doesn't give me enough time to, anyway. Liam is scaling the cage, getting yanked down by the crowd. I don't want him to come him in. I don't want him to see. 

He raises it, needle glinting in the light and slams it into my chest so hard I see stars. He empties it with a simple push of his thumb. 

"No! No! No!" Stella screams while the crowd cheers in glory. I'm dying. I'm practically dead. 

He's overdosed me. I won't go into a coma like Jeremy, it'll kill me instead. I stare into the canopy of over the cage and beyond that, into the dark sky and glittering stars. My eyes close and I feel lethargic, like I could sleep for days. Or well, forever.

"You don't go like this," a soft voice says. I glance to the blonde haired girl beside me, a smile on her pink lips. "How many times are you going to die this week?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "What's it like being dead, Anna?"

"Boring." Anna laughs and it sounds musical. "Even more boring without you. I miss you, Ronnie."

"I miss you too." It's not real, none of this is real but I can feel the sting of tears and the guilt that forms in my stomach. "I did this to you."

"No," she shakes her head and brown eyes are earnest. "I did. You tried to protect me. I know that now."

"But I killed you,"

"But you didn't." Her hands comes to rest on my chest, right over my heart. "You put me to rest, Ron. Your parents, they're here to."

"What?" I question and her fingers press to my cheek. 

"Ronnie! Wake up! Ronnie!" But I'm not ready to.

I know it's them the moment I catch sight of tall figure and shorter stature, hands interlocked right in front of me. 

"You just died a week ago!" My dad cries. "You must be eager."

Despite it all, I laugh. "I think people are just eager to kill me." And I clutch to them so tightly and I know this isn't real, but they feel real. I can rub the fabric of their shirts between my fingers and feel their arms encircle me. 

"She's not dead," my mom rolls her eyes at me then smiles. "You're not dead sweetie. Your father is just scaring you."

"He doesn't have to, I'm already scared enough," I state. "I think whatever was in that syringe is giving me one heck of a trip since I'm envisioning my dead parents."

"That's apart of the secret, Ronnie. It was created by our family," her fingers twist into my hair and she holds me to her. "My father created it to protect us, not to hurt us. It's our blood."

My eyes widen at her whisper and I pull away, "but why would he even make it?"

"Tate's father was reckless and trying to riot against him." Her blue eyes shimmer with tears. "After he was killed, those were left to protect us. That's what it is, Ron. Others just got a hold of it and used it for ulterior motives. Like the hunters and the rest of the Purgatory.I think the only thing that saved you was instinct."

Her forehead comes to rest against mine, soft hair brushing my cheek. My father cocoons us in his arms, till we're all clutched together. "I love you forever, Ronnie," her lips press to my forehead and my father copies the action to my head. "You have such a promising future. You're going to grow up and do what you dream. You should thank Tate for stabbing you, because now even before you're eighteenth, inheritance kicked in."  I know what she means. I get it now. I get it why I hadn't died before and I won't die now. 

"I love you both," is my last whisper. And in my ears, they echo it. 

My eyes fly open.

We're in the same setting, Tate looming above me, needle sticking out of my chest and Liam thrashing widely in the crowd, screaming my name. 

I'm alive. 

God must be one lenient dude.

"Cheaters never prosper," I narrow my gaze at Tate. But I guess I'm a cheater too, because tucked into my boot is that glass he mentioned. 

It's easy to fetch and even easier to shove it into his throat. Blood flows from his mouth and splatters onto me as he coughs, reaching for the glass embedded in his esophagus . I dig it in deeper, till it's buried to the hilt and Tate is limp, sprawled on the mat with glassy eyes staring into nothing. 

The crowd is silent. Even my group is. 

I hoist myself up by the fence lining the cage, plucking the needle from my chest and tossing it into the side. 

And then I stare out into the crowd. At least I didn't die this time. I just went on a drug trip.

I stare into foreign faces, some are wide eyed and shocked and probably relieving their Alpha's death, who they once thought was invincible. And I understand now as I stand before them, wounds healed and shoulders braced. 

And like instinct too, most show signs of submission by lowering their eyes. 

"I am your Alpha now!"

And they don't deny me. 

-----------------------------------------

Like, what the fuck. I am even shocked at this. I had everything planned -- that's why I set up the whole 'Alpha Inheritance' thing a looooooong time ago, I think in the first book actually -- and now it comes to be!

Ronnie just didn't die because of it. Alpha's are harder to kill, though not impossible. She didn't die before and she sure as hell didn't die now. We got two or three more chapters left. Hang with me. Wrapping up starts next and another battle sign and finally, the finale! I'm still unsure of the third book... do you guys really want it? I'm so torn! I'm not trying to tease you with it, I just don't know right now so I'm debating a epilogue or leaving it open so I can decide if I'm going to pick it up again or not. I'll see. We'll see, I guess, lol.

Until next time, 

- CeCe.