Becca wasn’t as spry or as ruthless as Aisha had been. She circled me once, searching for vulnerabilities, before a low growl from Bessemer told her to quit stalling and get on with it. Bunching her hindquarters, she leapt for my throat. I flung up one arm at neck height to block her jaws from clamping down on my vital parts and threw my shoulder behind a punch that sent her flying. She hit the dirt on her back and lay there a moment, breaths coming fast and heavy, eyes shut. For a second I thought she might not get back up, and I relaxed my stance.

“Is it over?” I sent the question to Graeson.

Cheek mashed to the ground, Becca cut her gaze toward me as if she’d heard me. She blinked once, twice, then panted through the effort of forcing her legs under her.

“How much longer can you hold your shift?” was his answer.

“I don’t know.” I was fine now, but soon my limits would be stretched. “She looks ready to drop.”

Movement caught my eye. Becca on the prowl.

“This isn’t right.” I sent to Graeson. “I shouldn’t have to hurt her to end this.”

“No. It’s not, but she won’t hold back. You can’t either. Not if you want to win.” His fists strained at his sides. “Finish this before it goes too far.”

A leaden weight settled in my gut. We’d passed too far when she drew first blood. Becca didn’t deserve what I was about to do to her, but she could heal in a day what took me a week to mend. I couldn’t let her wear me down until I made a deadly mistake. The fight was on. Unlike Graeson’s Imogen proposal, this match wasn’t rigged. No. That wasn’t true. This late-night brawl had Bessemer’s name written all over it.

Becca’s next attack was the least graceful yet, and I steeled my heart against what I had to do. Her small stature and the boost of having beta blood fueling my magic allowed me to withstand the impact of her furry body slamming into my chest hard enough to empty my lungs. Muscles quivering from the strain, I clutched her ruff and held her out at arm’s length while I severed her Achilles tendons, one after the other, with the tapered edge of my claw.

Frantically kicking her legs, she transformed her agony into a heartbreaking howl that raised bile up my throat.

I set her on the ground as gently as I could with my muscles screaming and magic ebbing then backed away in case she caught a second wind. Breaths regulating, I spread my hands so Bessemer saw the crimson slicking them. “Are you satisfied?”