The Alpha and The Enforcer [TATE] (STILL EDITING)

Chapter 12

Pain explodes through my bicep, but I hold on.

He presses forward, aiming for my throat.

I duck. Spin. My blade lashes out and grazes his side—just enough to make him hiss.

We separate, breathing hard. Circling.

He smirks, blood running down his ribs. "You're not bad. Maybe if you were born a few centuries earlier, you could've stood beside me. But now? You're just another ghost in the snow."

I throw my sword at him.

He deflects it with ease—only to realize too late that it was a distraction.

I tackle him.

We crash to the ground, rolling through the snow and broken stone. I grab for the wand at his belt—his elbow smashes into my ribs. I grunt but don't let go. He throws me off with a surge of strength and scrambles to his feet.

I do too.

I don't go for my sword.

I go for him.

We collide again. Bare fists now.

He swings wide—I duck. Drive my fist into his gut. He grunts, stumbles, then backhands me across the jaw. The world spins.

I shake it off. Barely.

"Still think you've won?" I spit blood and square up again.

"No," he says.

Then he lifts his hand—and the vines shoot out from the ground.

They grab me, wrapping around my ankles and wrists, yanking me down to my knees. I struggle, teeth bared, but they tighten like iron chains.

He steps forward, looming above me, bloodied but triumphant

He steps forward, looming above me, bloodied but triumphant.

"I didn't want to use magic," he admits, almost pitying. "But you pushed me."

He raises his sword.

A vine wraps tight around my throat. Another around my wrist. I struggle, gasping, but it's no use. My sword is gone. My strength is failing. My body's screaming for rest. For surrender.

The tip of his blade lowers until it kisses the skin just below my chin.

"Any last words?" he sneers.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because in that moment...

I feel it.

Hopelessness.

Not the kind that creeps in — the kind that crashes, heavy and suffocating. The weight of every failure, every scar, every moment I told myself I was strong enough, good enough — all of it collapses.

I'm not strong enough. Not fast enough. Not special enough.

He was right.

I was never going to win.

I close my eyes.

I see her — Lizzy, my wolf, my other half, caged in darkness. Waiting for me.

She doesn't speak.

She doesn't need to.

I feel her panic, her grief — her fading heartbeat.

And something in me breaks.

No.

Not like this.

Not again.

Not while she's still inside me. Not while she still believes in me.