The sensation of being watched soon began to grow, until my whole neck itched with it. The tension emanating from Rhoan suggested he felt it, too.

I kept running, but my gaze swept the barren landscape, looking for watchers that Evin mightn't have known about. After all, Blake would more than likely have introduced stricter security measures once his plot against me had started. He was smart enough to realize the Directorate would retaliate the minute they found any connection.

It's just a shame he wasn't intelligent enough to keep his anger and need for revenge to himself, rather than actually acting upon it.

We started up the long slope that was the final division between us and the place we'd grown up. My stomach was still in knots, and my heart was beating nine to the dozen. We reached the top and, as one, slowed.

Below us lay the valley of our childhood. In many respects, it looked more like a large ranch with lots of outbuildings than a city like Dunedan. The old, wood-shingled buildings blended in with the red of the surrounding countryside and contrasted sharply against the bright pockets of green - the football oval, the cemetery, and the few acres surrounding the dam that had always been the swimming hole for every kid who grew up here.

There were people out and about but, as yet, it didn't appear that we'd been noticed. My gaze went almost with a will of its own to the ramshackle but beautiful old house that sat one behind - and slightly to the side - of the main gathering house. That's where we'd grown up. It had been our grandfather's place, but never really our home, as much as our mom had tried to make it seem otherwise. Our grandfather had tolerated us, he'd fed us, and he'd educated us, but he'd never really loved us. We were half-breeds and, in his eyes, a tarnish on the Jenson name.

Maybe that was why he'd turned a blind eye to so much of what Blake and his family had done to us over the years. He'd always stopped it from going too far, but I think that had been more for Mom's sake than from any real need to protect us.

Mom.

For the first time since all this had begun, I actually began to think about her. Neither of us had seen her for well over ten years. We didn't communicate, didn't share birthdays or Christmas or Easter.

And yet I knew she'd loved us.

How was she going to react when she saw us? When she realized what we were going to do?

How the hell were we going to react when we saw her?

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Rhoan hugged me fiercely. Then, without saying a word, he wrapped his fingers around mine and started off down the hill.

We were spotted about halfway down. Initially it was nothing more than people briefly pausing for a look, then getting on with whatever they were doing, but word of who we were must have gotten around fairly quickly. By the time we'd hit the valley bottom, we'd drawn quite a crowd.

But it was a silent one, and that was weird.

Rhoan released my fingers as we neared the first of the outbuildings, but he kept close, our arms brushing each other as we walked. The tension that had been riding him earlier had gone, and he walked with the loose-limbed ease of a predator who knows his prey cannot get away.

I wished I could imitate him, but it simply wasn't possible.

Scents swirled around us, rich with familiarity and memories. I closed my mind to them, concentrating on the silent figures watching us, wondering what they were thinking but not daring to find out. Their expressions were closed, unreadable, and for one uneasy moment, I wondered if we'd misjudged the pack. Wondered if we'd bitten off more than we could chew.

We continued up a slight incline, heading toward the main gathering hall. Blake could have been anywhere, but the hall was the seat of power for the pack. It's where business was handled, where justice was meted out, and where major events were celebrated.

If he knew we were coming - and he surely did by now - then this is where he'd be.

Of course, our confrontation would not happen in the hall itself, but rather in the arena behind it. It was here where the blood disputes were handled and where the challengers to leadership were heard and decided.

Blake had killed my grandfather and taken over the leadership there, and now it was where he would meet his own death.

Behind us, the crowd continued to grow, sweeping in behind us and effectively cutting off our exit. The scent of wolf and home and anticipation swirled around me, filling my lungs and twisting my stomach. I flexed my fingers, but it didn't do much to help me relax.

Then two figures appeared out of the building above us. Both were males, broad of shoulders and strong of build. Both wore contemptuous expressions.

Blake and his brother Tyson.

I glanced at my watch. It was after six. Jack's half of the operation had already swung into action. If Blake had any suspicion that his empire was crumbling around his ears, he wouldn't be standing there so calmly.

We stopped when there were still ten feet or so between us, with Rhoan slightly behind me. This was my gig, my revenge. He was here as my second and my backup, though in truth he was a better fighter than me. And he'd need to be to take out Tyson, who was almost half his width again.

"You trespass, wolf," Blake said, his voice booming out across the windswept silence.

"And you, Blake Jenson, stand accused of fraud, kidnap, and murder." I took a piece of paper out of my pocket and threw it at his feet. "You may read the charges if you wish."

He didn't bother looking at the paper, just left it fluttering at his feet. "So you're here to arrest me?" His expression was mocking. Contemptuous. "You and I both know that pack land rights give you no such power."

"Pack land rights give the police no power," I corrected. "But we're not police. And we're not here to arrest you."

"Then what are you here for?"

"To carry out the sentence."

A murmur went through the crowd, rising and falling like a tide. Neither Blake nor Tyson seemed concerned.

"As I said, pack law gives me protection. Kill me, and my family will see to it that you, the Directorate, and everyone in your family pays for it - legally and monetarily."

I smiled thinly, my expression no doubt as contemptuous as his. "Right now, both your family and Tyson's -

every son, daughter, brother, and sister - are being rounded up by Directorate personnel. Their fate very much depends on just how deeply they've been involved in your schemes. Personally, I wouldn't care if they wiped out every last trace of your DNA from this earth."

That wiped the smiles off their faces. Blake clenched his fists and took a step forward. "You wouldn't dare."

I stepped forward, meeting him glare for glare. "I warned you what would happen if you came after us again. And this is just the beginning."

"What do you mean?" Tyson said, and just for a moment, there was doubt and uncertainty in his expression. But Tyson, for all his size, had never been half the powerhouse that his brother was.

"I mean," I said softly, my gaze not wavering from Blake's, "that I challenge you to ad vitam aeternam." Which was an old Latin phrase that meant to eternal life.

In other words, a fight to the death.

His eyes widened ever so briefly, then he threw his head back and laughed.

Laughed.

The man was a bigger fool than I'd thought.

No one else seemed to find it funny. Not even his brother, whose expression now wavered between uncertainty and fear. Tyson obviously had some sense of the trouble they were in. Blake didn't.

"Riley, Riley, Riley," Blake said, wiping at his eyes as if there were tears of mirth there. "I couldn't have asked for a better solution to our problem."

I raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Because I've been going out of my way not to kill you, and here you hand me the perfect opportunity with no chance of repercussion from the Directorate." He shook his head, as if he couldn't quite believe his luck. "I shall enjoy ripping your throat out, in much the same way as I enjoyed ripping out your grandfather's."

"If you last that long, you're welcome to try," I said softly, and stepped back.

Rhoan took my place. "Tyson Jenson, I challenge you to ad vitam aeternam."

Blake frowned. "You can't. He now no longer lives on these lands - "

"No, he runs his own pack in Queensland," Rhoan said smoothly. "But he is here, and therefore falls under the rules and regulations of this pack. We checked."

Blake's expression darkened. "I know the rules - "

"Where is your son Lodden?" Rhoan cut in.

Blake's fists clenched. "He played no part in my vengeance. He has no role in the arena."

"The jury is out as to whether he was involved in what happened to Riley, but we have evidence of him being fully immersed in your other schemes." Rhoan paused, but Blake didn't waste breath denying it. "So he has the choice. He can take his chances in the arena with me, or he can be arrested and risk pleading his case to the Directorate."

And if the Directorate - in the guise of Jack - thought his crimes were bad enough, then Lodden would die regardless. No ifs, buts, or maybes.

"Where is he, Blake?"

There was a flicker in his eyes, but it was too fast to identify. It could have been fear, it could have been cunning. Maybe even both.

"He isn't here. He's checking the boundaries."

Rhoan glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. He didn't believe Blake any more than I did. But it didn't matter. Lodden could hide for now. We'd find him easily enough later.

"What is your answer, Tyson?" Rhoan said.

He had no choice, we both knew that. Once a challenge was issued, there was no walking away from it.

"Yes. The answer is yes." Tyson shook his head and gave his brother an almost bitter look. "You've killed us all with your need for vengeance."

Blake swung around to face him. "We will win this. Have no doubt of that." He glanced back at us, and spat. The globule landed at Rhoan's feet. "We've beaten this trash before. We'll do it again."

Rhoan merely smiled. There was nothing warm or pleasant about it. "Then let's get to it."

"Yes, let's," Blake said, all arrogance. "I have somewhere to be later this evening."

He spun around, presenting his back to us, showing his contempt. I shared another glance with my brother, saw the slight twitch of his fingers as temptation called, saw the deeper hunger and anticipation in his eyes. But he didn't say anything, and neither did I. We simply followed our nemesis around the meeting hall to the arena at the back.

There was already a crowd gathered there. My gaze swept the sea of faces, but I couldn't see anyone familiar. If our mom was there, she'd changed beyond recognition.

But I very much suspected she wasn't there. She'd no doubt been forced to watch Blake rip her father apart, and she probably had little faith that we could win this one. No one in their right mind would want to see such violence again.

The arena was just over an acre in size, and positioned on a slight incline. The ground was strewn with boulders and broken trees, and no grass ever grew in the soil. It was if the blood of all those who had fought and died in this place had made the earth barren.

The gate slid open as we approached.

"Left corner," Blake said, as the four of us walked through.

The left corner was prime position. It was close to water and situated at the top of the incline. We'd known Blake would claim it, even though as challengers, the call was legally ours.

We trudged down the hill, watched by the silent crowd, surrounded by their anticipation and tension. I flexed my shoulders, trying to not let it get to me.

"We need to end this fast," Rhoan said softly. "There can be no chances, no mistakes, and definitely no doubt in anyone's mind of the consequences should anything like this ever happen again."

"Blake's ruled for years, and he knows this arena well." I shook free of my jacket as we neared the other end of the arena. "And he packs more weight than me. That'll tell in this fight."

"He may be bigger, but you're faster and stronger." He gripped my arm. "You'll be fine."

"I know." I also knew that it wasn't going to be as easy as Rhoan believed.

I rolled my shoulders, flexed my legs. Prepared, as much as anyone could prepare for the brutality that was a wolf fight.

Halfway up the arena, a green flag went up. A horn sounded immediately - its note haunting and poignant -

informing all those not already aware that ad vitam aeternam was about to start. As the final notes drifted away on the breeze, the flag dropped.

Rhoan and I jumped forward as one, flowing from one shape to another as we raced up the hill. Blake and Tyson were already halfway down, suggesting they'd jumped the flag, their growls and fury staining the crisp air.

I swerved to the left, getting out of Rhoan's way, running at an angle across the hill. Blake moved to intercept me, taking several gigantic strides before he leapt. I met him in the air, our chests crashing together, the sound cracking across the arena like a whip. I bared my teeth and lunged at his face, snapping and snarling. His teeth slid across my nose, tearing into flesh as we dropped to the ground. I dove away, twisted around, rearing up on my back legs as he came at me. Again our chests met as my paws clawed his side and my teeth sank into the ruff of his neck. He pulled away, but I hung on, twisting and shaking my head, trying to tear flesh. He snarled and slashed with his jaws, his canines ripping into my ear. I released him, jumped back. Felt the blood coursing down my neck, thick and warm.

Saw, out of the corner of my eye, the glint of silver on a distant rooftop.

A rifle.