Chapter 030

The relief didn’t last long. As soon as the first pair lunged at each other, the air filled with snarls and the sickening crunch of bone against flesh. Claws raked skin, teeth snapped, and the once elegant training ground turned into a blood-stained frenzy.

I watched, horrified, as one she-wolf slammed another into the ground, her growl vibrating through the floor beneath my feet. Around them, the crowd of mates and warriors cheered them on as though this was some glorious sport, not a test of survival.

My stomach twisted violently. I stumbled back, one hand over my mouth before I doubled over and emptied the contents of my breakfast onto the dirt.

“Maris…” I gasped, wiping my mouth, my voice trembling. “Is it always this brutal?”

Beside me, Maris winced, eyes glued to the chaos. “Pretty much,” she said, her voice low, as if not wanting anyone to overhear her hesitation. “It’s tradition, Rain. They say it proves strength and worth. Some even say the Goddess favors the fiercest ones.”

I looked back at the ring, bile burning in my throat again. “Fierce?” I whispered. “They’re tearing each other apart.”

A sharp cry echoed as one wolf was thrown against the boundary wall, shifting midair before collapsing in human form—bloodied and trembling. Yet no one rushed to help her. The other contestants merely watched, waiting for the next call.

Maris sighed. “No one wants to seem weak,” she said softly. “Not here.”

I hugged my arms around myself, shivering despite the morning sun. The scent of blood, sweat, and dust thickened the air, pressing down on my lungs.

For a fleeting moment, I imagined myself out there unshifted, untrained, helpless. The thought alone made my pulse race.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

Maris’s hand found mine briefly. “You don’t have a choice, Rain,” she said quietly. “Not anymore.”

And when Amelia’s voice rang out again, calling for the next round, my name was the one that left her lips.

Luckily I wasn’t paired up with Selene instead My opponent was smaller than me—a red-haired she-wolf whose name I couldn’t recall but whose silence at the breakfast table was something I had always noticed. Now, she didn’t look quiet. She looked deadly.

“Hello,” I tried, my voice trembling but soft. “I’m Rain.”

Her gaze flicked over me once before she muttered, “Shift.”

“What?”

She tilted her head, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Aren’t you going to shift?”

For a heartbeat, panic clawed up my throat. I forced a tight smile. “Oh no, I’m good.”

Her brows lifted. “Is that even allowed?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, setting my feet apart in the stance I’d seen the men back at my camp take during training. “It’s fine if you want to shift.”

“No, thank you.” She rolled her shoulders, her voice calm but sharp. “We’ll do hand to hand, then.”

I nodded once, though every part of me screamed to run.

The murmurs around the ring grew louder as we both stood there, neither of us shifting. I could feel dozens of eyes on me curious, skeptical, waiting for me to make a fool of myself. My palms were slick with sweat, but I kept my chin up, forcing a calm I didn’t feel.

The red-haired girl—Lena, I think that was her name circled me slowly. She moved with a cautious grace, like someone who’d trained but didn’t enjoy fighting. I matched her steps, keeping my breathing steady the way I’d seen the guards do when sparring.

The signal was given.

She moved first.

A flash of red hair, a blur of motion then pain exploded across my jaw. I stumbled backward, my vision swimming. Before I could recover, her fist slammed into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.

The crowd cheered.

I gasped and fell to one knee, coughing hard, every breath scraping my throat raw. She didn’t hesitate. Her boot collided with my ribs, sending me rolling across the dirt.

Dust filled my mouth.

Get up. You have to get up.

I pushed myself off the ground, swaying, seeing double. She came again, a punch aimed for my face, but this time, by some miracle, I ducked. My arm swung on instinct, and my fist connected with her cheek.

A shocked murmur ran through the onlookers.

The redhead stumbled back, touching her face, eyes wide with fury. For a second, I thought she might stop. Instead, she launched at me, faster than before. Her shoulder slammed into my chest, and we hit the ground hard.

She straddled me, her fists raining down in a blur of pain.

I tried to block—once, twice, but her knuckles found my lip, my cheekbone, the side of my head. Warmth spread down my chin, blood. Mine.

“Come on, Smart mouth,” she hissed, her hair wild, her breath sharp. “Fight back!”

I couldn’t see properly. Everything spun. My ears rang with the sound of growls and laughter around us. I could feel the dirt grinding into my palms, the taste of copper in my mouth.

Through the haze, my eyes flicked to the edge of the field.

Draven stood like a carved statue, his hands clasped behind his back. Darius’s jaw was tight, unreadable. Daemon smirked faintly, arms crossed over his chest.

None of them moved.

None of them would help me.

And maybe they were right not to.

I wasn’t their equal. I wasn’t even a real wolf.

The redhead’s fist connected again, snapping my head to the side. I coughed, the taste of iron flooding my tongue. Somewhere distant, Amelia’s voice shouted for them to continue “Strength, not weakness!” and the crowd roared in approval.

“Come on, Rain!” Maris’s voice called from somewhere in the crowd, encouraging but strained.

My body ached. My arms trembled. But still, I moved. I threw one last desperate swing, barely grazing her shoulder before she shoved me down again.

I landed hard, the air punched from my lungs. I some how mandes to stand on my feet again, but the tiny red haired angry bird couldn’t stop coming at me.

Her foot came fast, aiming for my ribs, but I twisted at the last second, barely dodging the blow. The crowd made a collective sound of surprise, and for a heartbeat, I thought I might actually stand a chance.

She came again? faster this time. I blocked, missed, stumbled, and hit the ground hard. Dust filled my mouth, and a chorus of laughter rose from the sidelines.

The fight ended when Amelia lifted her hand, signaling enough.

The redhead stood panting above me, chest heaving, blood trickling from the corner of her lip where I’d managed to hit her. She looked down at me not in triumph, not exactly, but in quiet acknowledgment.

I was dragged to my feet by one of the attendants. My hair stuck to my face, my nose bleeding, my body screaming in protest.

Applause and laughter filled the air.

I tried not to look at the brothers, but my eyes betrayed me.

Draven’s gaze was steady, cold, assessing. Daemon’s smirk had faded into something else, something darker. And Darius… his eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t name. Anger, maybe. Or restraint.

I couldn’t tell which one made my chest ache more.

I turned away before they could see the tears threatening to spill and walked back toward the edges of the ground, my body bruised, my pride shattered, but my heart stubbornly refusing to bow.

At least I hadn’t stayed down.

At least I’d landed one blow.