Chapter 22: Silver

"No blades!" Hester shouted from the crowd. "The law says no blades!"

"The law says no blades on the ground," Garrick said, turning the knife in his hand. "I carried it in. It's in my hand, not on the ground."

A roar went up around the ring.

The beta said nothing.

My wolf's hackles stood up along my spine, and I heard her voice, very cold.

"Silver burns us. One cut and it spreads."

"I know."

"Then do not let him cut you."

Garrick came at me.

He was fast for a heavy man, and he was not slowed by his own bulk.

The knife flashed at my throat, and I jerked my head back and felt the wind of it pass my muzzle.

I circled left.

He turned with me, light on his feet, the blade low.

"Everett was the same," he said, and his voice was almost kind. "Always sure the fair way would win."

I snarled.

He lunged again, and this time I dodged right.

The silver clipped my foreleg, and the burn shot up to my shoulder.

I yelped.

Around the ring, two hundred voices cried out at once.

My eyes watered, and the world swung.

I heard my wolf shouting somewhere far away, and I shook it off and stepped back.

He had cut me.

Cold and slow, the silver began to climb.

My front leg went weak under me.

"Orla," my wolf said. "Orla, move."

He was already on me.

He came down with both hands on the hilt, the blade aimed at my shoulder, straight at the heart.

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