Chapter 28
Damon
I stepped into the arena to silence. Even with the crowd still buzzing, whispering, shifting with anticipation, it felt quiet compared to the storm leside me
chest
“Elena Ashford versus the Lycan King.” Ronan announced.
Not a pairing I planned. Not something I orchestrated. But the moment the lots were set, I didn’t stop it either.
And now, there she was. Dirt–smeared. Sweat–soaked. Still heaving from the obstacle course. Her shoulders drawn back, eyes locked on mine, a spark of steel in their depths that refused to be extinguished.
She was barely standing. But she was incredible… and so fucking beautiful.
Ronan signaled the start of the match; Elena moved first and was quicker than I thought she’d be considering how exhausted she must be after everything.
Her blade came at me in a downward strike before feinting left and sweeping low. I blocked her easily, turning her momentum aside and stepping clear without effort. She pivoted, not letting the miss shake her, and came at me again.
It was aggressive and calculated.
I could have ended it in seconds, but I didn’t.
Instead, I parried, stepped back, and let her push forward. I wanted to see how far she’d go. How much energy she had left. She was already beyond her limit – anyone with any battle experience could see that – but she wasn’t backing down.
I told myself I was evaluating her technique. Her instincts. Her stamina.
But the truth was something addictive about the way she kept coming. In the way she refused to yield. She was fire trapped in a form too fragile to contain it, and still she burned.
Zane paced in the cage of my ribs, uneasy. She’s tired.
I know. I replied, annoyed and a little worried that she couldn’t keep this up.
End it. He demanded.
Not yet, she can keep going a little longer.
My wolf growled low, irritated by my hesitation.
Across the ring, Asher’s voice rang out over the crowd. “Come on, Lucky! Give him something to remember you by!”
Laughter followed, and my jaw tightened.
Elena didn’t react. But I saw the twitch in her posture. The faint shift in her grip before she surged forward again, this time faster, wilder.
Her blade skimmed across my ribs, just enough to bite through the leather and make my breath catch.
It didn’t hurt. But it surprised me. Asher and his damn distractions, I was sure he was doing it on purpose.
The crowd gasped.
And Asher whooped. “She nicked him!”
1/3
Chapter 28
zane snapped, bristling beneath my skin..
It wasn’t the strike that bothered me. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d potten close. It was the sound of his voice cheering her on Lien ha to do with her fire. Like he could claim even a sliver of her strength as his to praise,
I didn’t want her to connect with him. With his games, his chaos. He didn’t deserve to orbit someone like her. And the way she didn’t even flinch at hin words! That somehow made it worse.
And fick me if that didn’t piss me off more than his him touching her.
I closed the distance, knocking her next strike wide. My counter came fast, with more force than I intended, or that was necessary. She stumbled, catching herself just before falling, eyes flashing.
Her jaw clenched, her hands steadying. She didn’t look afraid. She looked furious.
I almost apologized, which was ridiculous. Instead, I growled, “Focus.”
She responded with another strike, shoulders squared, form sharp despite the tremble in her legs. She wanted to keep going, so I let her keep going.
But she pushed herself harder than she should have. Each move cost her more than the last. I could see the toll in the way her breath hitched, in how her arms shook just after each parry.
And still, she kept going.
My wolf growled again. Not in challenge; it was both pride and concern.
She’s going to collapse. He sneered into my mind.
Elena knew it too. But still, she fought.
The blade trembled in her grip now, her swings losing the precision they started with. Her eyes kept locking on mine like she was daring me to end it; daring me to take her seriously even when her body was clearly failing.
She lunged one last time.
I twisted, caught her around the waist, and slammed her down into the sand with careful force. She hit the ground hard, a gasp torn from her lungs.
And still, she tried to rise.
One elbow braced beneath her, she pushed up, breath ragged. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her hand twitched near the hilt of her blade again.
“She doesn’t quit,” Ronan murmured near the edge of the ring.
No, she doesn’t.
When I looked toward him, Ronan’s brow was furrowed, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He wasn’t just watching, he was worried. There was something in the way he leaned forward, just slightly, as if he’d intervene if he could.
I hadn’t seen that look from him before. Not in training. Not in battle. He was supposed to be detached, but Elena wasn’t one of the warriors, she was a noble daughter not meant to battle an Alpha King.
She blinked up at me, dirt streaking her cheek, her eyes glassy but stubborn.
I crouched beside her, lowering my voice. “It’s over.”
Her jaw flexed. “I didn’t yield.”
“You don’t have to.” She let out a breath, half pain, half protest, and her head dropped back into the sand.
3/2
Chapter 28
I stood and raised my hand. “Match concluded. The King is victorious!
A wave of noise crashed down from the stands cheers, groans, disbelief.
I didn’t hear them.
I turned just in time to see Asher raise a brow from the wall, clapping slowly. “Not bad for a noble’s daughter, eh, cousin?”
Tignored him. My gaze was still locked on the woman in the sand.
The woman who shouldn’t have made it through the course, shouldn’t have nicked my side. But did. I should’ve felt triumphant. Instead, all I felt was a rising, gnawing ache in my chest.
Not because she lost. But because some part of me hated that I had to be the one who made her fall.
Elena lay there still for a few seconds too long, and Zane growled, ready to rip me from the inside out.
She’s not moving. She’s hurt.
I studied her closely, every breath, every flicker of movement, the way her fingers curled slowly into the sand like she was willing herself to rise again.
The crowd was still reacting, but it all sounded distant. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I wasn’t supposed to care. I was supposed to treat her like any other candidate. Just another daughter of privilege trying to claw her way to power.
But she didn’t move like someone chasing titles. She fought like someone with nothing to lose. Like someone fighting for her life.
And Goddess help me, I wanted to know why. And I hated how much that twisted my gut in knots.
Zane was still pacing, agitated. Not from the fight. From her pain… and from mine.
Walk away, I told myself. This is done. She lost. It’s over. But I just stood there, staring down at her, as if by sheer will alone I could force her back to her
feet.
