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I suppose anything is possible. I don’t think Paul understood just how unlikely that was. He’d never, to my knowledge, actually met the Marrok. Henry, who had, probably told Paul that it would be all right. People like Henry are good at getting others to believe them.

Darryl looked around the audience. “My job is to see that you stay off the mats. I am willing to ensure that this is a fair fight with your life. Are we clear?”

“Excuse me,” said Mary Jo’s voice.

She was just this side of five feet tall so I didn’t see her until she stepped onto the mat in front of Darryl.

“I call challenge on Paul,” she said.

And then there was noise, a great howl of noise as the whole garage full of werewolves objected—women don’t fight in challenge fights.

Darryl raised his hand and quiet spread reluctantly.

“I’m within three of his rank,” she said. Her eyes were properly on Darryl’s feet, though her face was turned to him. “It is within my right to challenge him for the right to fight the Alpha.”

I stared at her. This was not something I’d have expected of the Mary Jo who had allowed the fae to set fire to my house while she was supposed to be standing guard.

“You’re not within three ranks,” growled Darryl.

She held up her hand. “Paul,” she said. Then she held up one finger “Henry.” Another finger. “George and me.”

She was right. That was where I’d have put her, too.

“You are an unmated woman,” Darryl said. “That puts your rank at the bottom. Alec is after George.”

“Alec,” she called, not taking her attention away from Darryl. “Who is more dominant, you or me?”

Alec stepped around the other wolves and looked from her to Paul. I could see the answer he wanted to make, and Darryl started to relax. Adam, I noticed, was watching Mary Jo with surprised respect.

Alec opened his mouth, then hesitated. “You all could tell if I lied,” he said. He raised up both his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mary Jo.” He looked Darryl in the eye, and said, “Mary Jo outranks me.”

And chaos reigned. Paul stuck his head in Darryl’s face and raved. He was one of the very few people in the pack tall enough to stand eye to eye with Darryl. If there hadn’t been so much noise, I’d have been able to hear what he said—but I could guess. Paul liked Mary Jo. He didn’t want to kill her.

Mary Jo stood there; like Adam, she was an island of quiet in the uproar. She was small, but every ounce of weight she had was muscle. She was tough as boot leather, quick, and agile. I wasn’t as certain as Paul was that she’d lose—I wouldn’t want to fight against her. If she won, she could yield to Adam. If she decided to fight—and I didn’t think she would—she’d be coming into the challenge tired and possibly hurt.

Then I remembered the way Henry had thrown her into the island in the kitchen. She had either broken or cracked her ribs when she hit. Though I couldn’t see it in the way she was moving, there had not been enough time for her to heal. No one healed that fast unless they were an Alpha with a full moon outside.

“Enough,” roared Warren suddenly, his voice ringing out over the hubbub like a shot fired in a crowd.

Darryl turned to Mary Jo, and said, “No.”

“Not your call to make,” she informed him. “Adam?”

“I have a problem,” he said. “Justice demands that I must step away from this determination because I am more than a little vested in the decision. In the name of justice, then, let it fall to the next three in rank—Mercy, Darryl, and Auriele.”

He looked at me.

I know what I wanted to say. Auriele was likely to agree with Mary Jo—and we’d already heard what Darryl’s viewpoint was. Even if Mary Jo lost, it would help Adam. I looked at the wolves and saw a lot of resentful faces—they had done the math as well, and they were very unhappy with me being a part of the decision.

Then I saw some wiggle room.

“It seems to me that there is another problem,” I said. “If we agree that Mary Jo can fight because she ranks within three people of Paul. I submit that Paul does not stand within three people of Adam.” Like Mary Jo, I held up my hand. “Adam, then me.” I held up a finger. “Darryl—and Auriele, then Warren.”

“Then Honey,” said Warren with a little smile. “Then Paul.”

Paul snarled. “He has already accepted my challenge. That presupposes I have the right.”

I looked at Adam.

“Nice try,” he told me. “But I agree with Paul.”

“And the official code of conduct,” said Ben grumpily, “which I had to damn well memorize before I was allowed in the pack, says challenge within quote three men unquote. The important word being ‘men.’ ”

“So Mary Jo can’t fight,” said Paul with a relieved grin. “She’s not a man.”

“So Mary Jo’s claim is still valid,” I pointed out. “She’s within three men of your rank. Does the code of conduct say that the challenger has to be a man?” Kyle told me that one of the secrets of being a lawyer was never to ask a witness a question you didn’t know the answer to. I knew what it said, but it would sound better coming from someone else.

“No,” said Ben.

I’d done all I could do. Adam’s silent urging pushing me, I looked at Mary Jo, and said, “Like Adam, I have too much of a stake in this.”

“Mercy,” whispered Jesse fiercely. “What are you doing?” I patted the hand she’d locked on my wrist.

“Darryl, Auriele, and Warren will decide this, then,” said Adam.

Because my mate bond with Adam was sort of functioning again, I knew he believed that if I’d been part of the decision, it would have just become another point of contention. Another stupid thing that allowing a coyote into a pack of wolves had accomplished—instead of what it should be, a recognition of Mary Jo’s right to challenge regardless of her sex. I figured he was right.

“There are only three females in this pack,” said Darryl. I don’t think he forgot about me so much as he really meant three women werewolves instead of females in general. “That is typical for all packs. Most werewolves die before they have spent a decade as a wolf, but for women who are wolves, that life span is almost doubled because they do not fight men for dominance. And still they are so few. You are too precious to us to allow you to risk so much.”

It took me a while to realize he wasn’t talking to the whole pack, but to his mate.

Auriele crossed her arms. “That makes sense in a species where women are important to survival. But we aren’t. We cannot have children—and so are no more valuable to the pack than anyone else.”

It had the ring of an old argument.

“I vote no,” said Darryl, snapping his teeth as he spoke.

“I vote yes,” responded Auriele coolly.

“Damn it,” said Warren. “Y’all are going to throw me in the middle of a marital spat on top of everything else?”

“Up to you,” Auriele said grimly.

“Hell,” said Warren, “if this ain’t a whole can of worms, I don’t know what is. Mary Jo?”

“Yes?”

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

It felt as if the whole pack drew a breath.

“This is my fault,” she told him. “That Adam got hurt, that the pack has been in an upheaval. I didn’t cause it all, but I didn’t stop it either. I think it’s time I make suitable reparations, don’t you? Try to fix the damage?”

Warren stared at her, and I saw the wolf come and go in his eye. “All right. All right. You go fight him, Mary Jo—and you damn well better win. You hear me?”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“You do better than that,” he said grimly.

“Mary Jo.” Paul’s voice was plaintive. “I don’t want to hurt you, woman.”

She kicked off her shoes and started pulling off her socks. “Do you yield?” she asked him, while she stood on one foot.

He stared at her, his body tight with growing anger. “I stuck my neck out for you,” he said.