A Warrior's Second Chance (Faye and Alexander) novel Chapter 208

Chapter 208

FAYE

+25 Poirds

Breakfast should have been peaceful. But nothing inside me felt calm. My stomach had been

twisting itself into knots from the moment I opened my eyes.

The dream. I thought about it all night until I finally fell asleep. I needed to figure out a way to get to

Alexander.

He was sitting across from me, quietly eating like the world wasn’t dancing on the edge of chaos.

I poked at my eggs. My hand kept tapping the table. I wasn’t usually this jittery, and apparently it was obvious, because Alexander stopped mid–bite and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he said. “And you keep staring at me like you want to say something.” His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp–watchful. He always noticed everything with me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but one of the kitchen attendants came in to refill the juice. So I quietly shut my mouth again.

Alexander frowned. “Faye.” His voice dipped lower. “What’s going on?”

“Give me a moment,” I said.

That was enough for him. He set his fork down slowly, never taking his eyes off me, and waited until the last person stepped out of the room.

The moment we were alone, I exhaled. “It’s about the fight,” I said.

He leaned back in his chair, and there it was–that resigned sigh he always gave whenever he assumed I was gearing up to convince him to step down. “Faye…” he began, rubbing his thumb across his forehead. “I know you don’t like it, but don’t start your campaign to talk me out of it, please. My mind is made up.”

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it.”

His head snapped up. Genuine surprise flickered across his face. “You’re not?”

I shook my head. “No.”

That got his attention. He sat forward a little. “Then what?”

I swallowed, gathering the courage to say the words out loud. “I think… I know how you can win.”

His brows rose slowly. “Oh?”

Chapter 208

He wasn’t mocking me, not dismissing me. He was actually waiting–listening. That was the part

that made me feel even more tense.

“Look,” I said softly, “you’re strong. Stronger than most wolves in every physical way that matters. But strength alone won’t win that fight. Marcus doesn’t belong to any pack. He doesn’t follow rules, he has no honor to protect. He definitely doesn’t fight fair–he’s desperate, lawless, vicious. And you-“I lifted my eyes to meet his, “-you fight with discipline and honor.”

“And that’s a problem?” he asked, almost amused.

“In the Ring of Fire?” I breathed. “Yes. Because Marcus isn’t going in there to prove anything. He’s going in there to kill you. To take everything.”

He didn’t argue this time. His eyes were studying me, deeper.

“So,” he said slowly, “you’re telling me I should fight dirty?”

“You can call it whatever you want,” I replied. “But you’re going to have to think like him. Fight like someone who has no image to lose. Because Marcus will stop at nothing. The question is-” | leaned forward, “-how badly do you want to put him down for good? How badly do you want to stay alive? Stay Alpha? Keep Crescent Dynamics? …everything you’ve worked hard for.”

His jaw tightened. I could tell he understood what I was implying long before I said it.

But I still said it.

“You’ll have to embrace your dark side.”

He froze.

It was subtle, but his whole body went still. His eyes locked onto mine, carefully expressionless. And beneath that calm exterior, I could feel the sharp spike of resistance–maybe even fear.

“You want me,” he said slowly, “to willingly let it take over.”

“Alexander-”

“No.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the word landed between us heavily.

I pressed on quietly, “You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t believe it was the only way-”

“No, Faye.” He sighed. “I know what that part of me is. I know what I become when he takes over. I’m not letting that thing loose in a fight meant to prove I’m worthy to lead this pack.”

“Your pack has seen him before,” I reminded him. “All of them.”

“That was different,” he snapped. “War is different; defending the pack during an ambush is different. Losing control in the heat of battle isn’t the same as letting myself become a monster in

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front of everyone just to win.”

“Alexander, please…”

He shook his head sharply. “I said no.”

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Something inside him had closed, shut tight, like a wall had dropped instantly. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the pieces of him pulling in different directions. He didn’t want to hear this from me. He didn’t want me to see that side. That was the part hurting him–more than the suggestion

itself.

He stood up and walked around the table to me, gently cupped the back of my head, and kissed my forehead, even though his mood was obviously ruined.

“I have to go,” he said.

Then, without another word, he straightened, turned, and left the dining room.

I was a bit frustrated. But I couldn’t afford to give up.

What I saw in that dream felt like a possibility.

A direction, a chance.

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