Chapter 4

Giovanni's private gym occupies the entire floor below his penthouse. It's a temple to violence—boxing rings, weapons racks, everything needed to create or prevent death. He stands in the center of the main mat, having changed into black athletic pants that hang low on his hips. No shirt. Just miles of tattooed muscle and barely contained power.

"Take off the dress," he commands.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't fight in designer silk. Strip."

I cross my arms. "I'm not—"

He moves faster than my eyes can track, suddenly behind me, his breath hot on my neck. "Isabella won't hesitate. She'll use every advantage, including the fact that you're worried about modesty." His hands find the zipper of my dress. "Strip, or I'll do it for you."

My wolf surges forward, ready to fight or submit—she's not sure which. I step away from him, yanking the zipper down myself. The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in black lingerie that offers zero coverage.

Giovanni's eyes darken as they travel down my body. "Better. But you'll need these." He tosses me athletic wear from a bench.

I change quickly, ignoring the weight of his stare. The sports bra and shorts fit perfectly, of course. He knows everything about me, down to my measurements.

"Isabella has been pack royalty since birth," he says, circling me slowly. "She's stronger, faster, more experienced. In a fair fight, you're dead in thirty seconds."

"Comforting."

"I don't do comfort. I do truth." He stops in front of me. "But you have advantages she doesn't expect."

"Like what?"

"You're a survivor. Street smart. You've been fighting your whole life, just not with fists." He drops into a fighting stance. "Show me what you've got."

I throw a punch that he easily deflects, then another that doesn't even come close. He's not even trying and I can't touch him.

"Pathetic," he says. "Again."

I swing harder, anger fueling my movements. He blocks everything, not even breathing hard.

"You're fighting like a human," he critiques. "Where's your wolf?"

"I don't—"

He attacks without warning, taking me to the mat. I hit hard, his weight pinning me down, his face inches from mine.

"Where's your wolf?" he repeats, his voice darker.

"I can't—"

"She's there. Feel her." His hand slides to my throat, not squeezing but present. "She wants to fight. She wants to protect what's hers."

"I'm not—"

"You are." His thumb traces my pulse. "You're mine, and that makes you powerful. Stop fighting it."

Something snaps inside me. My wolf roars to the surface and I buck hard, using his surprise to flip our positions. I end up straddling him, my hands on his chest, both of us breathing hard.

"There she is," he murmurs, his hands coming to rest on my hips. "Your wolf wants to play."

The position is too intimate, his body too warm beneath mine. I can feel every ridge of muscle, every breath. The mate bond hums between us, electric and demanding.

"This isn't playing," I manage.

"No?" His hands tighten on my hips, holding me in place when I try to move. "Your wolf says otherwise."

"My wolf is an idiot."

"Your wolf recognizes her mate." He sits up suddenly, our faces inches apart. "She knows what she wants."

"Which is?"

His answer is to kiss me.

It's nothing like our first kiss—this is slow, deliberate, devastating. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him without thinking, letting him explore, claim, possess. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I moan into his mouth.

I'm the one who breaks away, gasping. "We can't—"

"We can." He pulls me back, nipping at my lower lip. "We should."

"The contract—"

"Fuck the contract." His mouth moves to my neck, finding the spot where he'd mark me. "You want this. I can smell how much you want this."

He's right. I'm soaked, aching, ready to surrender everything. The mate bond is screaming at me to submit, to let him claim me right here on this mat.

Which is exactly why I can't.

I scramble backward, putting distance between us. "Isabella. We need to focus on Isabella."

Giovanni's eyes are pure gold, his wolf at the surface. For a moment, I think he's going to pursue, to pin me down and take what we both want. Then he takes a visible breath, forcing control.

"Isabella," he repeats, voice rough. "Right."

He stands, adjusting himself without shame. I pretend not to notice how affected he is.

"She'll go for your throat first," he says, all business again. "It's her signature move."

The next hour is brutal. Giovanni doesn't hold back, teaching me every dirty trick he knows. How to use my smaller size as an advantage. Where to strike to cause maximum damage. How to fight without honor, because honor gets you killed.

By the time we're done, I'm covered in bruises that are already healing thanks to my accelerated metabolism. Giovanni hasn't broken a sweat.

"You might survive thirty seconds now," he says.

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming."

"I don't do false hope." He grabs water bottles from a cooler, tossing me one. "But you have one advantage I haven't mentioned."

"What's that?"

"Me." He steps closer. "My strength. My power. It's yours through the bond, if you let it be."

"I don't understand."

"Marked mates can share power. Even unmarked, the potential exists. You just have to stop fighting it." His hand cups my face. "Stop fighting me."

"I can't," I whisper.

"Why?"

"Because if I stop fighting, I'll lose myself completely."

Something flashes in his eyes—understanding, maybe even respect. "You think I want to erase you?"

"Don't you? Make me into the perfect Luna?"

"I have no interest in perfection." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "I want the girl who broke into my office. Who stood up to me. Who kissed me to escape." He leans closer. "I want you, Giulia. Not some polished version."

My phone rings, shattering the moment. It's the hospital.

"Nonna's asking for you," the nurse says. "She's upset."

"I'll be right there."

Giovanni's already moving, grabbing keys. "I'll drive."

"I can—"

"You're about to fight for your life in two hours. Let me do this."

The drive is silent, tension thick between us. At the hospital, we find Nonna agitated despite the medication.

"I heard," she says the moment she sees me. "The challenge."

"How did you—"

"Nurses talk." She grips my hand with surprising strength. "Don't do this."

"I have to."

"No, you don't. Walk away. Come back to the human world where you belong."

"I can't." I glance at Giovanni standing by the door. "I made a deal."

"Deals can be broken."

"Not this one."

She looks between us, understanding dawning. "It's more than a deal now, isn't it?"

I don't answer, but I don't need to. Nonna sighs, closing her eyes.

"Your mother would be proud," she whispers. "Stupid, but proud."

"That's reassuring."

"Win," she says, opening her eyes to pin me with her gaze. "If you're going to do this, win. And then make him grovel for putting you in danger."

"I didn't—" Giovanni starts.

"You're the Alpha," Nonna interrupts. "Everything is your fault."

To my surprise, Giovanni inclines his head. "You're right."

"Of course I am." She squeezes my hand once more. "Go. Kill the bitch who challenged my granddaughter."

"Nonna!"

"What? I'm old. I can say what I want."

The warehouse is packed when we return. A circle has been cleared in the center, wolves pressed against the boundaries. Isabella stands in the middle, now dressed in fighting gear that shows off her lethal body.

"The mongrel shows," she announces. "I'm impressed."

I step into the circle, trying to project confidence I don't feel. "Let's get this over with."

"So eager to die?"

"Eager to shut you up."

The crowd "oohs" at my response. Isabella's eyes flash.

"First blood or submission," Giovanni announces, though his tone suggests he'd prefer death. Isabella's death, specifically.

"Submission," Isabella corrects, smiling at me. "I want to hear her beg."

"The challenged chooses terms," Giovanni states coldly. "Giulia?"

I meet Isabella's gaze. "Submission. But not mine."

More murmurs from the crowd. Isabella laughs.

"You think you can make me submit? Me?"

"I think you talk too much."

She attacks.

Giovanni was wrong—I don't last thirty seconds. I last ten.

Isabella is everything he warned and more. She's not just fighting to win; she's fighting to humiliate. Every strike is calculated to cause pain without ending things quickly.

I hit the ground hard, tasting blood. The crowd is screaming, but I can't make out words over the ringing in my ears.

"Stay down," Isabella hisses, crouching beside me. "This doesn't have to get worse."

I spit blood in her face.

She snarls, hauling me up by my hair. "You little—"

I slam my head back into her nose, feeling it crunch. Giovanni's dirty fighting lessons kick in and I drive my elbow into her kidney, then sweep her legs.

She goes down, but recovers fast, shifting partially. Her nails become claws, slashing across my ribs. Pain explodes through me, and I feel my wolf finally, fully surface.

The partial shift happens without my control. My own nails extend, teeth sharpening. But more than that, I feel something else—power that isn't mine flowing through the bond.

Giovanni's power.

Isabella comes at me again, but this time I'm ready. I dodge, using her momentum against her, sending her crashing into the crowd. When she rebounds, I'm already moving, striking pressure points Giovanni showed me.

She stumbles, shocked. "How—"

I don't let her finish. The fight becomes a blur of motion, both of us partially shifted, tearing into each other. But I'm not fighting alone anymore. Giovanni's strength flows through me, his tactical knowledge becoming mine.

When Isabella makes her signature move for my throat, I'm ready. I catch her wrist, using her own force to flip her, driving her face-first into the concrete. My knee goes to her spine, claws to her throat.

"Submit," I growl, my voice barely human.

She struggles, but I press harder, claws drawing blood.

"Submit!"

"I... submit."

The words are barely audible, but the crowd hears. The warehouse erupts in chaos—shock, outrage, excitement.

I release Isabella and stumble backward, the adrenaline crash hitting hard. Giovanni catches me before I fall, pulling me against his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs, and there's something like pride in his voice.

"We did it," I correct, looking up at him. "I felt you. Your power."

"You finally stopped fighting the bond."

"Just for tonight."

"We'll see."

Isabella struggles to her feet, hatred burning in her eyes. "This isn't over."

"Yes, it is," Giovanni says coldly. "Challenge was issued and met. Giulia is recognized as Luna. Anyone who disagrees can take it up with me."

No one speaks. No one moves.

"Good." He lifts me into his arms, ignoring my protest. "We're leaving."

"I can walk—"

"You're bleeding on my floor. Let me take care of you."

The crowd parts as he carries me out. I should be embarrassed, but I'm too exhausted to care. I won the impossible fight. I'm Luna of the Obsidian Moon Pack.

God help me.