The moment Robert Gaton was told he wouldn’t be fighting Elijah, his eyes lit up. The shifters formed a loose circle around the two men. Joshua didn’t take his eyes from Gaton. Gaton all but pounded his chest, certain of victory. His smirk taunted the challenger. “You think I haven’t already defeated every soldier here?” Gaton snapped. “Elijah Lospostos endorsing you doesn’t mean a damn thing. Not one thing. He can’t take this territory without the leopards, and they’re mine. My crew. They can kill any soldier coming up against them. Lospostos is too chicken to face me himself so he puts a pansy ass in his place.”

Joshua didn’t reply. With one hand he whipped his shirt over his head and flung it aside, eyes on Gaton. Cool. Calm. So Joshua. Elijah kept his eyes glued to Gaton’s five leopards. None of them made a move to aid their boss, as was the way of the leopard. Anyone could challenge for leadership if they had the balls. The telling factor was their silence. None of them were verbally backing Gaton. Elijah had the feeling they wanted him to go down. If he was as brutal as Cordeau had been, it was easy enough to see why.

Gaton didn’t wait for Joshua to strip all the way. He shifted, his leopard leaping at Joshua. Joshua’s clothes were gone and he was already shifting, leaping, meeting Gaton in midair. Fast. Drake had drilled it into them—that practice of stripping, shifting and moving all at once—and it paid off.

The two leopards came together with a terrible roar, twisting and ripping at each other before they even hit the ground. No one in the circle moved or spoke. The swamp once again went silent as the two male leopards fought not just for supremacy, but for life. One wouldn’t walk away from the battle and both leopards knew it.

The fight was vicious and ferocious. It became clear, quite early on, that Joshua’s leopard was faster and much more skilled and experienced than Gaton’s. The knowledge wasn’t lost on the five shifters watching their boss get torn to shreds. They exchanged long looks. Each of them had challenged Gaton and none of the five had defeated his leopard in battle, leaving him to rule the lair.

Joshua’s leopard was patient. Cunning. So fast he was a blur when he sprang in, ripped Gaton to the bone and sprang away. Usually the loose skin and roped muscles prevented the kinds of wounds Joshua’s male inflicted, deep, punishing lacerations that left the other leopard panting and desperate to escape. There was no way to get away from Joshua’s leopard, and in the end, the big male closed in for the kill.