CHAPTER FOUR — THE WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

Jake - Third Person Limited POV 

The first thing I learned about power was that it never felt the way people imagined it would.

It wasn’t glorious.

It wasn’t pride.

It wasn’t even strength.

It was heavy.

Heavy, crushing, unrelenting.

I felt it the moment I opened my eyes that morning, long before the sun crept over the mountains, long before the arena roared to life. The ceiling above me felt too close. The air is too thick. My wolf paced beneath my skin, restless and uneasy, as if he already knew today would change everything.

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair, exhaling through clenched teeth.

Bella.

Her presence still lingered in my chest like a bruise that refused to fade. The bond pulsed faintly, a constant reminder of what I had seen, what I had felt, and what I was trying desperately not to want.

She was mine.

And I couldn’t claim her.

The irony tasted bitter.

I had been born into power raised to lead, trained to dominate, shaped into the Alpha everyone expected me to be. Strength was my inheritance. Control my curse.

And yet, the one thing I wanted most was the one thing I could never take.

A knock echoed at my door.

“Come in,” I muttered.

Rohan stepped inside, already dressed for the trials, his expression closed off in that familiar way he used when he didn’t want me to see what he was feeling.

“Morning,” he said flatly.

I studied him for a moment. My younger brother though the word felt wrong. We’d never truly been brothers in the way the world expected. There was too much rivalry between us, too many unspoken comparisons, too many years of standing in each other’s shadows.

“Did you sleep?” I asked.

He scoffed. “Did you?”

Fair enough.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “The arena’s filling up. Everyone’s waiting.”

“For you or for me?” I asked.

His jaw tightened. “For the champion.”

I exhaled slowly. “Rohan”

He cut me off. “You’re going to win again. You always do.”

There it was. The resentment. The exhaustion. The wound that never healed.

“I never asked to be the one they chant for,” I said quietly.

“You didn’t have to,” he shot back. “It just came naturally to you.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then, softly, he said, “You shouldn’t have come near her.”

My chest tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m trying to protect her,” he snapped. “She’s not like us, Jake. She doesn’t belong in our world.”

“She belongs wherever she chooses to stand,” I said firmly.

He stared at me like he didn’t recognize me. “You’re already choosing her over your own blood.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit.

Before I could answer, a horn sounded in the distance, the signal that the trials were beginning.

Rohan turned toward the door. “Good luck,” he said quietly. Then, after a pause, “Try not to destroy everything in your path this time.”

He left before I could respond.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face.

The crown weighed heavier than ever.

The arena roared with anticipation as I stepped onto the sand.

The energy was electric wolves packed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat, excitement, and bloodlust. This was their favorite day. A spectacle of strength. A reminder of hierarchy.

I hated it.

I took my place, scanning the competitors as they assembled.

Then I felt it.

A sharp pull in my chest. My breath caught.

No.

Slowly, I turned.

She stood at the far end of the arena, cloaked in dark fabric, a mask covering the upper half of her face. To anyone else, she was just another challenger.

But to me

The bond roared awake, violent and undeniable.

Bella.

My heart slammed against my ribs. What was she doing here?

The realization hit me like a blow: she wasn’t watching.

She was competing.

Panic flared hot and immediate.

I started toward her, ignoring the shouts around me, but she lifted her gaze and our eyes locked through the distance.

Even behind the mask, I knew her.

She shook her head, just slightly.

Don’t.

My fists clenched at my sides. She was asking me to stay back. To let her do this.

The horn sounded.

The fight began.

I moved through my opponents on instinct, my body trained to react without thought. Every strike was precise, controlled but my focus kept snapping back to her.

She moved differently than the others.

Not with brute force, but with intent.

Every motion was calculated, fueled by desperation and fire. She fought like someone with something to prove not to the crowd, but to herself.

When our paths finally crossed in the center of the arena, the world seemed to shrink around us.

She stood before me, chest rising and falling, eyes fierce behind her mask.

“Please,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Go easy on me.”

The words tore through me.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” I murmured.

“I do,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I need this.”

I hesitated.

Every instinct screamed to protect her. To shield her. To end the match before it could hurt her.

But then I saw it, her resolve. Her pride. Her refusal to be small.

She lunged.

I barely blocked in time, the impact reverberating through my arms. She was fast faster than I expected and smart. She adapted with every movement, learning my rhythm, reading my patterns.

The crowd roared.

I held back, carefully, but she noticed.

Her eyes flashed with fury.

“Don’t,” she hissed as she struck again. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

The words hit harder than any blow.

So I stopped pulling my punches.

Not enough to hurt her but enough to respect her.

We clashed again and again, sparks flying with every strike. She was relentless, driven by something deeper than pride.

Then, in a moment I didn’t anticipate, she twisted, swept my leg, and used my own momentum against me.

I hit the ground.

The arena fell silent.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then the crowd erupted.

I stared up at her, breathless, stunned not from the fall, but from the realization crashing over me.

She had done it.

She stood over me, chest heaving, eyes blazing with triumph and disbelief. For the first time, she wasn’t the girl everyone underestimated.

She was a warrior.

I rose slowly, heart pounding, and met her gaze.

Pride swelled in my chest so fiercely it almost hurt.

Not the pride of victory.

The pride of witnessing her claim her place.

I bowed my head to her.

Not as an Alpha.

Not as her mate.

But as an equal.

The crowd roared louder, chanting her name.

And as she stood there bloodied, shaking, unbroken I knew with terrifying certainty that this was only the beginning.

Because the girl the world had tried to overlook had just stepped into her power.

And nothing would ever be the same again.