In large bold letters, the paper laid out some appalling rules such as a nine p.m. curfew and shifting permitted only during a full moon. Wolves could hunt together only in packs of four and required an appointed chaperone.
Albert was attempting to tightly control the entire pack. This was disgusting. A pack should want to follow its leader, to trust its leader. The glory of living in a pack was the freedom to shift whenever you wanted, to run with a large group of your brothers and sisters. To be a trusted member of their society. A wolf was driven to serve and protect its pack.
But this…this was a nightmare.
“What’s that?”
Wyatt looked up at where River’s pointed. It was an area that should have had picnic tables or maybe a flower garden. It should have been a place where families and friends gathered on a sunny Saturday afternoon to laugh and talk.
A thick pole stood at the end of the town square. From the top of the pole hung a pair of metal shackles.
“It’s a whipping post,” Wyatt growled. He’d never seen one in person. No, they were something from a completely different time when public executions and shamings were the norm. This was wrong.
It was a threat to keep people in line. Such a tactic was the first line of defense for a weak leader.
“Albert!” Wyatt bellowed, rage and disgust rushing like a torrent through his body. He turned slowly in place before the whipping post, his balled fists trembling at his sides. “Albert, you fucking coward! I’m calling you out! I challenge you!”
Stillness filled the air, as if the entire town held its breath. He could feel eyes on them. The pack had been watching him since they’d walked into the town, but now there was something more to their stare. He prayed it was hope.
“Albert! Face me, false alpha!”
The door to what looked like an old-fashioned general store opened, and an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out onto the sidewalk. His jeans were a little worn, but his flannel shirt was nice and neat.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the man demanded. His tone wasn’t exactly unwelcoming, just cautious.
“My name is Wyatt Campbell. These are my mates, River Stone and Beltran Varik.”
The man’s eyes widened and snapped over to Bel. “The vampire,” he breathed.
“Yes. Bel is a vampire.” Wyatt paused and dragged in a deep breath so his voice would carry well beyond the square to anyone watching them from behind curtains and through cracks in the door. “Albert Cartman has threatened my pack, attempted to frame River and me for murder, and he ordered an attack on our home during the daylight hours. His actions injured my mate, River. I am within my rights to demand justice. I challenge him.”
The man gave a little snort. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” He scratched his jaw and looked over the trio. Wyatt straightened his shoulders and tapped down the urge to step in front of both Bel and River.
“Gay wolves,” he murmured and looked over at Bel. “Mated with a gay vampire. Never heard of such a thing.”
Bel smiled at the man, his lips curling slightly, as if he wanted to expose his fangs. “Vampires are known for being flexible.”
A choking noise came from River, as if he were trying to smother a laugh, and the stranger’s lips twitched like he was trying to not smile.
“Where’s Albert?” Wyatt demanded.
The man gave a jerk of his chin toward the large house at the opposite side of the town square. The three-story white structure was ablaze with lights, while most of the town seemed dark. Compared to the decay everywhere else, the house was a monstrosity.
“Alpha’s house. You’ll find him there.”
“I’ll drag him into the square if I must.” Wyatt turned toward the house to make good on this threat, but the stranger’s next question stopped him.
“Are you going to be any better than Albert?”
Wyatt stopped and looked over his shoulder at the man. There were deep lines cutting through his face, and his shoulders were slightly slumped, as if worn by too much worry and struggle over the past several months. He’d likely done what he could to protect his family, protect the pack that he’d grown up with.
“I promise, I won’t be worse. There will be no more curfews, no more fucking forced sterilizations. And no more of that,” he snarled, pointing at the whipping post.
The man nodded. “It looks like you’re going to get your match. But I don’t know how fair it’s going to be.”
Wyatt looked toward the house to find the front door open and Albert standing on the front porch, flanked by a pair of other large men. “Albert doesn’t strike me as the kind of man that believes in fair.”
He strode across the open field as Albert started down the wooden stairs. Around him, he saw hints of people peeking out their windows, and even a few had come out onto the sidewalk. They were keeping their distance, but it was enough to bear witness.
“Albert Cartman, I challenge you!” Wyatt bellowed.
“You have no rights here,” Albert shouted back.
“I invoke the rights of combat set by the North American Council of Elders. You have falsely accused me of murder. You have threatened me and my pack outside your lands. I hold you responsible for the attack on my home and the home of my pack that resulted in the life-threatening injury of my mate.”
Albert had stopped at the edge of his property, seeming hesitant to enter the field and face Wyatt. “You are an outcast. An exile. No pack will have you, faggot!”
“Maybe, but I am still a wolf, and I have the rights of my birth. If you refuse to face me, your pack will see you for the coward you are. A pack is only as strong as its alpha, and you shame your pack for refusing to face me.”
Even from several yards away, Wyatt could see Albert’s face turn bright red. Hell, if it were possible, the man looked as if he’d expire from a heart attack at any second just from his growing rage.
“A fight you brought a vampire to!” Albert shouted, pointing straight at Bel.
“A vampire you attacked first. A vampire you injured. A vampire that is currently holding his clan at bay since you’ve declared war on his kind.”
Bel made a small noise in the back of his throat, and Wyatt knew he was stretching a little bit. Yes, the Variks would love to take a fucking chunk out of Albert, but the declaration of war was a little much.
“I did no such thing!” Albert gasped.
“You ordered an attack on my home during the day!” Bel called. “Did you think a vampire would just laugh that off? That my clan would ignore it?”
Albert swallowed hard enough that Wyatt could hear it. Yeah, the attack on Bel’s house had been a serious miscalculation on his part. Bel had been at his most vulnerable, but Albert hadn’t counted on the mad scientist to be the sneaky fuck that he was. Of course, if Bel hadn’t built in his escape tunnel and stashes of weapons, it’s a very good chance they would have all been dead.
“I challenge you!” Wyatt shouted again.
This time there was a low rumble of conversation around them. He looked at the sidewalks to find that more members of the pack were now standing outside, watching the proceedings. A few people even met his gaze and gave him a little nod. He had a feeling that he wasn’t their first choice for a challenger, but if they had to decide between a gay man and a tyrant, they were going to side with the gay man.