Gregory's POV
Fifty years serving this pack, and I'd never seen such blatant disrespect for our sacred traditions. B
I watched in horror as Scott crashed into the ceremonial table, sending the ritual items flying. The sacred bowl—older than any living wolf—shattered against stone, spattering ancient blood across the dirt. The dagger skidded away, moonlight glinting off its silver edge.
"If I can't win," Scott snarled, "no one does. The Hunt continues!"
My old bones nearly vibrated with rage. This wasn't just breaking protocol—this was spitting in the face of our ancestors. The shattered bowl had been used in Alpha challenges since before my grandfather's time.
"That's not how this works," Derek shouted, limping forward on his injured leg. "The challenge takes precedence!"
Scott's wolf form reare……
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