Nick faced the giant. He felt awful that this stupid act from his past had brought trouble to his mate and her friends. He hoped they weren’t worried about him, that they just stayed put back in Huntwood until he got this figured out. He’d handle this like he should have done three years ago.

Christian growled. He towered over Nick, even from twenty feet away. He was just as big and mean-looking as he’d been in the cages back in Wisconsin, with his dark hair slicked back and those eerie amber eyes squinting in anger. “You’re gonna pay for what you took.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did. I was a young punk, and impulsive, and I stole the clip.”

Christian said nothing.

“I just want to give it back,” Nick said. “I’ve wanted to give it back almost since the moment I took it. Here.” He reached into his pocket and found the money clip. Then he held it up.

Christian’s amber eyes narrowed further.

Nick tossed the money clip to him, feeling like an idiot. “There you go. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

“You made me look like a fool,” Christian said. “No one takes something from me and gets away with it.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Nick said. “It’s crazy, but I’ve actually found a place for myself here. I’m finally, you know, settling down and not doing stupid shit anymore. I don’t know what I can do to—”

“Shift into your wolf, and we fight,” Christian said.

That sounded like the worst idea ever. One of them could get killed if they fought as their animals. Christian was a damn grizzly and probably had hide as tough as brick.

“Let’s fight with our fists instead,” Nick said.

Christian grinned. His teeth gleamed wickedly. “Like in the cages.”

“Yeah,” Nick said. This wasn’t any better, honestly. Nick could fight—he’d fought to the top at the club, lasting the night out several weeks in a row. But he was out of practice, and Christian looked like he broke a few skulls on a daily basis.

A broken skull was probably better than getting his throat torn out by a grizzly’s claws.

Christian walked toward Nick, fists clenched.

Nick refused to take the first swing. Every part of him disagreed with fighting—he’d fought for three years. It hadn’t made sense then, and it didn’t make sense now. Everyone had expected him to be a fighter because of his build, because of his “arrogant fucking prick look” as his dad had called it. Everyone had expected him to be a fighter because his dad had been a fighter, too. And then, he’d allowed his pack’s expectations to drive his life for far too long.

Coming out here to escape Christian and chase Hayley, that had been his moment of breaking free. He’d wanted to leave all the violence behind.

Yet here he was again, fists raised, ready to swing.

Christian took a step forward and feinted to the left, but Nick didn’t fall for it. He blocked right, just in time to miss Christian’s jab. Without allowing Christian a chance to recover, Nick dropped and swung out with his right leg. He hooked Christian’s ankle.

Christian stumbled but regained his balance almost immediately. Nick was vulnerable on the ground and popped back up as fast as possible, but not in time to miss the next hit.

It rocked him sideways. His lip stung, and blood flooded his mouth.

He used the momentum of the hit to come back around with a hook. His fist met Christian’s jaw with a satisfying thwack.

Christian growled and threw another punch. Fast as he was, Nick didn’t have time to dodge it. He angled away so the force hit him in the side of the head instead of the nose, but he saw stars.

Fuck, Christian wasn’t messing around.

Nick heard shouting in the distance, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He blocked blow after blow. Someone screeched—Becca. He turned, and in that split second, a fist rocked against his face so hard, Nick flew back.

He landed on his back, staring up at the clear sky. Mottled blues and blacks and whites swirled in his vision.

“Ha, got you, you little punk—ooof—what the hell, woman?”

With extreme effort, Nick sat up. His vision was still gray and black at the edges. He must be dreaming. Becca stood in front of Christian. As Nick watched in disbelief, she spun sideways and kicked hard at Christian’s stomach.

Christian grunted and stepped away, holding up his hands. “Lady, I got no beef with you.”

“You’re going after my boyfriend,” she said, holding her arms close but loose, like she was ready to throw a punch.

“I think I already got him,” Christian said, nodding toward Nick.

Becca looked over and saw Nick. Her face transformed from anger to concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked past her, to Christian, wary of Christian attacking Becca. But then he saw the entire Dark Pines Pride was there, glaring at both him and Christian.

Nick cleared his throat. “Look, Christian, I’m sorry I stole from you. You knocked me out. Whatever I have that you want is yours, just let me keep my mate and don’t hurt these people.”

Christian’s face went blank. Fuck, that was never good. Nick remembered that blank, empty gaze from the cages.

“Becca, step back,” Nick said to her.

She looked from him and back to Christian. Her eyes widened in fear.

But Christian shook his head and stepped away from them. “Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

While Nick watched, Christian reached into his pocket and brought out the money clip. He held it up and stared at it. The silver and gold embellishments glinted in the sunlight.

Then, with a malicious grin, Christian threw the clip far into the woods. Somewhere in the distance, Nick heard it bounce off a tree branch.

Nick’s mouth fell open. “What the—”

Christian laughed. “It was never about the money clip, asshole. It was about respect.” Then he turned around and walked back toward the trailhead.

Blood filled Nick’s mouth, coppery. He spit it out, wincing at the gash in his lip.

He turned to his mate and their friends, all of them lined up and ready to defend him. He stood and took a step toward Becca, but his leg gave out and he fell to one knee.