Chapter 24: Karl Fletcher

Bradford sat at the wooden table, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips as he looked at his wife and me. "It really feels like a blessing—"

BANG.

The thin front door was violently kicked open, slamming hard against the peeling drywall.

"Damn, brother! Smells like a feast in this pathetic dump for once!"

A loud, arrogant voice boomed through the small house, shattering the peaceful atmosphere in a single second.

Two men stepped over the threshold without waiting for an invitation. Leading the way was Hector Wells—Bradford’s older brother. Unlike Bradford, whose posture was slouched from years of hard labor and poverty, Hector was a broad-shouldered, well-fed Beta who held a decent position within the Grey Moon Pack’s inner patrol.

His eyes held a permanent, condescending gleam whenever he looked at his younger brother’s family.

Walking right behind Hector was a tall, sharp-featured young man wearing a leather jacket stamped with a silver crest.

Karl Fletcher.

The Fletcher name carried immense weight in Grey Moon—a prominent Beta family known for producing high-ranking pack enforcers and tournament contenders. Karl walked in like he owned the square footage beneath his boots, his lips curled in a casual, arrogant sneer.

They had clearly come to gloat after hearing the news that Bradford’s wolfless daughter had somehow registered for the Tournament of Power.

Karl had come expecting to see a pathetic, tear-stained wreck cowering in a corner.

Instead, his eyes landed on me.

I was standing by the counter. Wearing one of the dark, high-quality athletic outfits I had just bought, my hair neatly tied back from my face, combined with my sharp, composed posture made me look completely striking—a stark, stunning contrast to the scrawny, ragged girl Karl had probably seen around the district months ago.

Karl froze mid-stride, his arrogant sneer faltering for a fraction of a second. His eyes swept down my frame, taking in the clean, steady posture.

As his gaze pinned mine, a sudden, jagged knife of heat stabbed into my brain.

A suppressed memory from Brianna’s past surged to the surface with terrifying clarity.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon six months ago, right after she had received her admission letter to Ravenhollow Academy. Three neighborhood bullies had cornered her in a muddy alleyway, enraged that a wolfless Omega had secured a spot they felt entitled to.

Brianna had tried to shrink into the shadows, begging to be left alone, wanting nothing more than to avoid trouble.

And standing at the mouth of that alley was Karl Fletcher. He had been leaning casually against the damp brick wall, tossing an apple from palm to palm, a sick, satisfied smirk on his face.

"What’s the matter, boys?" Karl’s voice echoed in the flashback, dripping with venomous glee. "Are you really going to let a weak, wolfless parasite put on airs? Show her where she belongs."

He hadn’t raised a hand himself, but his cruel words had stoked their rage into a violence that left Brianna bruised, bleeding, and terrified to walk the neighborhood streets alone.

It was the reason Jayden and Jordan had begun accompanying her everywhere she went—a protective guard her brothers established in secret because Brianna had begged them not to worry their parents.

The memory faded, leaving behind a cold, toxic residue of Brianna’s lingering trauma.

So... it was you, I thought, my knuckles whitening as I slowly uncurled my fingers by my side. You were one of the instigators who put this body through hell.

Karl’s lips curved into a slick, predatory smile, blissfully unaware that the girl in front of him was no longer the helpless victim he had watched bleed in the mud.

"Well, well, well..." Karl purred, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he took me in. "Who is this? I came expecting to see Bradford’s pathetic Omega daughter weeping over her registration, but you actually look... decent. Quite pretty, in fact."

He took a step closer, flashing a confident, slick smile that made my stomach turn with disgust.

"Tell you what, little girl," Karl said, flicking a glance toward the stew pot before pinning his eyes back onto mine. "The Tournament of Power is a bloodbath for weaklings like you. But if you play your cards right... and agree to be my woman, I’ll make sure to go easy on you in the ring. I might even protect you from the real monsters."

Valerie gasped, pulling back against the counter in fear.

Before I could even open my mouth to speak, Bradford slammed his hands onto the table and surged to his feet.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Bradford roared, his chest heaving as he stepped between Karl and me. "Brianna is not going anywhere with you! She is not some prize for you to claim!"

He turned his furious glare onto his older brother, his voice shaking with years of built-up resentment. "And you, Hector! Brianna is your niece! Yet you stand there with an outsider, letting him humiliate her in her own home?!"

For a second, the room went dead silent. Bradford, the family’s pushover, was actually standing his ground.

Then, Hector’s face darkened with sheer rage.

"Get a load of yourself," Hector snarled, stepping forward with terrifying speed.

THWACK.

Before Bradford could react, Hector swung his fist, striking Bradford straight across the face. The force of the blow sent Bradford crashing sideways against the wooden table, his lip splitting open as he collapsed onto the floor.

"Bradford!" Valerie shrieked, rushing to her husband’s side.

"First and foremost, you are a complete disgrace to the Wells name!" Hector spat, glaring down at his bleeding brother with pure disdain. "And your daughter is nothing but absolute trash! If a Fletcher grants a worthless Omega like her his grace, you should be down on your knees thanking him for it!"

Karl chuckled softly from the doorway, thoroughly entertained by the display.

I stood completely still in the shadow of the kitchen counter. My face remained totally blank, but deep inside my chest, a cold, lethal flame flickered to life.

Hector Wells... Karl Fletcher...

I looked at Bradford wiping blood from his chin, then looked back at the two men standing in our doorway.

You just made a massive mistake.