Chapter 345: Dealing with Gary
{Dennis’s POV}.
It’s been two days since the meeting with our people living here in Duskmoor city, and I needed to hit the training grounds.
Not just to stay sharp, but to clear my head and think of a way to deal with Gary on my brother’s behalf.
And, truth be told, to watch a few of my brothers’ warriors knock each other about like good little hounds. Always entertaining.
But when I walked in this morning, what do I find?
Gary.
Of course, he was standing there with a practice blade like he owned the place when, in the actual sense, he wasn’t allowed to be here in the first place.
I stopped dead, blinked once, then grinned. Oh, this is too perfect.
The warriors had paused mid-spar. They were trying not to laugh, but I could see it in their eyes — a Carter boy, parading himself where he didn’t belong.
"Well, well," I drawled, strolling over with my hands behind my back like I’d caught a rabbit digging holes in Draven’s garden. "Look who decided to join the wolves today."
Gary gave me that stiff smile, the kind that belongs on a portrait, not a face. "I don’t see a problem. It’s a training ground, isn’t it? I came to train. Or is this discrimination?"
The word nearly made me choke. Discrimination. From him. I couldn’t help myself — I laughed. Loud enough for the others to hear.
"You hear that, boys?" I turned to the warriors, my grin sharp. "Apparently, I’m discriminating. Poor Gary here thinks I’m being unfair."
That got a few smirks out of them, though they kept quiet. Good men.
Then I leaned in, close enough for Gary to see the amusement in my eyes. "Listen carefully. Every wolf here earned his right to train on this ground. You? You haven’t earned a damn thing."
His jaw tightened. Pride is a fragile little beast. "And how exactly am I supposed to earn it?"
I tapped my chin, pretending to think. Then the idea hit, and oh, it was delicious. "Simple," I said with a smirk, already knowing how to bait his pride. "You duel me."
The words landed like a stone in still water. Warriors straightened. A ripple of energy ran through the air.
Gary blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," I said, tilting my head. "You want to feel like one of us? You fight like one of us. You duel me. No blades, no claws—just fists and grit. If you last more than two minutes, maybe I will let you come back tomorrow."
Gasps and low chuckles stirred around us.
I could almost see his pride twisting inside him, pushing him into the trap. There was no backing out now. Not with half a dozen wolves watching.
"Unless..." I let the pause linger, then smirked wider. "Unless you would rather I tell everyone you chickened out?"
And that did it. Gary’s jaw tightened. A Carter doesn’t back down in front of witnesses. Not when pride is on the line.
"Fine," he snapped. "I accept."
Oh, this was going to be fun.
"Good," I said with a grin, stepping into the cleared circle as the men formed around us. "Try not to embarrass yourself too quickly."
---
The whistle of air came first, and Gary charged like a bull with his fist aimed at my face. I slipped sideways and let him stumble past me.
"Too slow," I called out.
He whirled and swung again more wildly and desperately. But I caught his arm, twisted it behind his back, and shoved him down to one knee.
He growled, tried to rise, so I let him go, just to watch him scramble.
The men laughed. And he hated that more than the pain.
"Come on, son of a Beta," I mocked, circling him. "Show us the legendary Carter bloodline. Or was all that bark and no bite?"
Snarling, he lunged again, fists flailing. I blocked one, ducked the other, and planted my fist square in his ribs. The air whooshed out of him, and he doubled over.
"Still breathing? Impressive," I teased, flicking imaginary dust off my shirt. "Half a minute down."
He staggered upright, face flushing red, sweat streaming down him. Pride drove him to keep fighting.
He came at me again, and this time I allowed him to land one weak punch on my shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it ignited that false spark of hope in him.
Then I drove my fist into his nose, and then his gut in quick succession. He folded like a wet cloth, gasping on his knees in the dirt. The men roared with laughter.
I crouched down, voice low but dripping with amusement. "Now, this is the difference between pretending and belonging. Remember it."
Then I shoved him backwards. He fell flat on his back, dust clinging to his clothes, and shame burning hotter than the bruises.
Draven wanted a lesson taught. And I delivered it.
The warriors shook their heads and muttered about wasted time, while Gary stayed on the ground, his chest heaving, his pride shattered in front of every man who mattered.
"Lesson’s over, boys," I called, flashing the crowd a grin as I straightened and dusted off my hands. "You’ve all seen what happens when someone bites off more than they can chew."
The men laughed, some clapping each other on the shoulders, already drifting back to their drills.
But me? I wasn’t finished yet. I turned back to Gary, still sprawled in the dirt like a discarded rag doll.
His face was a mess, bruises blooming, his lips split, nose bent to one side like it had given up halfway through the fight.
I crouched down, studying him like a craftsman admiring his handiwork. "I think you should have a doctor look at your nose," I said lightly.
Gary’s eyes burned holes into me. With a grunt, he grabbed the bridge of his nose and cracked it back into place with his own hands.
The sick sound of bone shifting echoed across the grounds, drawing a few winces from the men who had stayed to watch.
Then he hissed through his teeth and glared up at me. "You cunning bastard. You set me up, didn’t you?"
My smile faded, just like that, and then I leaned closer, my voice dropping to steel.
"Watch your tongue, Carter. Your life—" I lifted my hand, gesturing casually as if I held something fragile between my fingers, "—is in my hands. One wrong word, and you won’t walk off this ground."
The message landed. I saw it in his eyes—the flicker of real fear, the way his bravado cracked under the weight of truth.
I straightened, my smirk returning as I dusted my palms. "Good. Glad we understand each other."
Then I walked off, leaving him with his crooked pride and the lesson carved into his bones.