Chapter 12

Watching Her Rise

Jace's POV

I couldn't look away. Every rational part of my brain screamed at me to focus on my own upcoming matches, to stop torturing myself with what I'd lost, but it was impossible. Grace commanded the ring like she'd been born for it, and with each victory, something inside my chest twisted tighter.

Her second match had been against a warrior from Blackstone pack—a massive Beta who outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. I'd watched her study him during his previous fights, cataloging his movements with the clinical precision of a strategist. When they faced off, she didn't try to match his strength. Instead, she danced around him like smoke, striking pressure points and joint locks until he collapsed from accumulated damage without her landing a single brutal blow.

"Surgical," Dad murmured beside me, his voice filled with something that sounded dangerously close to admiration. "She's dismantling trained warriors like they're children."

The third match had been even more impressive. Her opponent was a female Beta from Ironwood pack, fast and vicious with claws that could shred kevlar. Grace had waited, absorbed punishment that would have crippled most wolves, then ended the fight with a throw that sent her opponent flying fifteen feet to land unconscious against the barrier.

By her fourth match, the entire amphitheater had gone quiet whenever she entered the ring. Wolves from every pack were leaning forward, trying to understand how Marcus Silver's unknown granddaughter was systematically destroying some of the most skilled fighters in the region.

I knew how. I could see it in every movement, every calculated decision. This wasn't just three years of training—this was three years of focused rage channeled into becoming everything I'd once claimed she could never be.

"She's going to make Alpha rank," Dad said quietly during the break between rounds four and five. "I've never seen anything like it."

Neither had I. The Grace I remembered couldn't defend herself against high school bullies. The woman in that ring was predator made flesh, and she was hunting her way through the competition like they were prey.

Her fifth opponent was Marcus Rivera from Stormwind pack—no relation, despite the name. He was known throughout the region as one of the most brutal fighters of his generation, a man who'd earned his Alpha rank by putting three opponents in the hospital during his own ranking matches. I'd fought him myself two years ago and barely managed a draw.

Grace studied him with those cold, analytical eyes as he entered the ring, and I saw the moment she identified his weakness. Rivera favored overwhelming aggression, counting on intimidation and raw power to break his opponents' will. It worked against most wolves.

Grace wasn't most wolves.

The match lasted longer than her others—nearly three minutes—but only because she was making a point. She let Rivera tire himself with his savage attacks, slipping away from his strikes with minimal effort while delivering precise counters that slowly wore him down. When she finally decided to end it, the finish was so swift and brutal that half the crowd gasped.

One moment Rivera was lunging forward with a claw strike that should have opened her throat. The next, he was flat on his back with Grace's boot on his windpipe and his arm bent at an angle that made several spectators wince.

"Yield," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent amphitheater.

Rivera tapped out immediately, and I didn't blame him. From where I sat, I could see the complete lack of mercy in Grace's eyes. She would have broken his arm without hesitation if he'd refused to submit.

"Five wins," Dad breathed. "One more and she's ranked Alpha."

One more, and the girl I'd rejected as weak would officially outrank most of the wolves in the region. The irony was so bitter I could taste it.

"Jace Storm to preparation area," the announcer called, and I realized with a start that my own matches were about to begin.

I stood on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, my entire world tilted off its axis. Three years ago, I'd been the golden boy of the Storm pack—future Alpha, strongest of my generation, destined for greatness. Now I was about to fight to maintain a ranking that Grace was systematically proving meant nothing.

"Son." Dad's hand on my shoulder stopped me as I moved toward the tunnel. "Whatever's in your head right now, put it aside. You're an Alpha of the Storm pack. Act like it."

I nodded, trying to summon the focus that had carried me through every challenge of my life. But as I walked toward the preparation area, all I could think about was Grace's face when she'd looked at me earlier—polite indifference, as if I was a stranger of no importance.

Maybe that's all I was to her now. Maybe I'd killed whatever we might have been so thoroughly that resurrection was impossible.

The thought should have been devastating. Instead, it lit a cold fire in my chest that burned away everything except the need to prove that I was still worth something.

Jace's POV - In the Ring

My first opponent was a Beta from Riverside pack—competent but predictable. I ended the match in forty-five seconds with a combination that left him unconscious before he hit the ground. The crowd's reaction was appreciative but muted. After watching Grace's surgical precision, my brute force approach probably seemed crude.

I didn't care. I wasn't fighting for their approval.

The second match was against a young Alpha from Northwood—ambitious, skilled, hungry for advancement. He lasted two minutes before I put him down with a sequence of strikes that would have killed a human. The medical team had to carry him out on a stretcher, and I felt nothing watching them go.

By my third match, something had changed in my fighting style. The cold calculation I'd seen in Grace's eyes had infected me, turning my usual aggressive approach into something more systematic. My opponent from Goldstream pack was strong and experienced, but I dissected his defense with the same methodical precision Grace had shown, finding the flaws in his technique and exploiting them without mercy.

"Brutal efficiency," I heard someone comment from the stands as my opponent submitted. "Storm's fighting like a man possessed."

Possessed. That was accurate. I was possessed by the need to prove that watching Grace succeed hadn't broken me, that I was still the Alpha I'd always claimed to be.

My fourth opponent never really had a chance. I could see the fear in his eyes when he looked at me—not the healthy respect one warrior shows another, but genuine terror at what I'd become. I used that fear, let it work for me as I systematically dismantled his will to fight along with his defenses.

The fifth match was against Derek Rodriguez from Ironclad pack, an Alpha with a reputation for never backing down. He'd earned his rank by outlasting opponents through sheer stubbornness and endurance. I respected the approach, but respect wouldn't save him.

I went after him like a force of nature, each strike designed to cause maximum damage rather than seeking a quick finish. I wanted him to feel every impact, wanted him to understand the difference between his strength and mine. When he finally submitted, his face was a mask of blood and his left arm hung useless at his side.

"Medical assistance to ring one," the announcer called, but I was already walking away.

Five wins. One match left for me to maintain my Alpha ranking, just like Grace needed one more to claim hers. The symmetry was perfect in its cruelty.

But as I headed back to the preparation area, I caught sight of Grace preparing for her final match. She was stretching with fluid grace, her movements economical and controlled. There was no wasted motion, no nervous energy. She looked like a wolf who'd already won and was simply going through the motions of making it official.

Her final opponent was Thomas Chen from Ridgeback pack—the defending champion from last year's games and widely considered the strongest non-Alpha in the region. He'd been undefeated for three years running, a mountain of muscle and skill who'd earned his reputation by putting down challengers with ruthless efficiency.

Grace watched him enter the ring with the same detached interest she'd shown all her previous opponents. If she was intimidated by his reputation or physical advantages, she gave no sign of it.

"This should be interesting," Dad murmured, settling back in his seat to watch.

Interesting was one word for it. I leaned forward despite myself, my own upcoming final match forgotten as I prepared to watch Grace either claim her place among the Alphas or finally meet someone who could match her transformed strength.

Deep in my chest, my wolf stirred with something that felt like pride. Whatever Grace had become, whatever she'd made of herself in the three years since I'd cast her out, it was magnificent.

Even if she'd never be mine again, even if I'd destroyed any chance of redemption with my pride and stupidity, I couldn't help but feel a fierce satisfaction at watching her prove every one of her doubters wrong.

Including me.

The referee raised his hand, and the amphitheater fell silent.

"Begin!"

Jace's POV - Final Thoughts

As Grace and Chen circled each other in the ring below, I realized that my own final match had become secondary. Win or lose, I would still be an Alpha. But Grace? Grace was about to either claim her place among the leadership of our kind or fall just short of the goal she'd spent three years pursuing.

I found myself holding my breath as they engaged, my entire world narrowed to the woman who'd once been my mate and was now something far more dangerous than I'd ever imagined possible.

She was going to win. I could see it in the way she moved, in the confidence that radiated from every line of her body. She was going to claim the Alpha rank that should have made her my equal, and she was going to do it while barely acknowledging my existence.

The girl I'd rejected for being weak was about to become one of the most powerful wolves in the region.

And all I could do was watch and wonder what might have been different if I'd been strong enough to see her potential three years ago.

But it was too late for regrets. All I had left was the hollow satisfaction of maintaining my own rank and the bitter knowledge that I'd thrown away something irreplaceable.

Grace didn't need me anymore.

She never would again.