Semua Bab The Rejected Omega's Redemption : Bab 221 - Bab 230

The sacred grounds held their breath. The only sounds were the low rumble of growls and the wet, ragged gasps of two Alphas locked in a deadly contest. The crowd, packed shoulder to shoulder, was a living wall of fur, flesh, and fear. Their gazes flickered between the combatants, their expressions pulled taut between awe and dread. Not a soul moved, though a few wolves shifted uncomfortably, claws flexing in silent, nervous sympathy for the wounds being traded in the arena. Desmond’s claws were buried deep — so deep the tendons in his forearm bulged against his skin, taut with the effort of keeping them there. He leaned in close, his lips peeled back in a wolfish snarl, his eyes blazing with cruel triumph. His fangs caught the moonlight, as though the very night itself bowed to his dominance. “You thought you could take what belongs to me?” His voice was a rasp and a growl, cutting through the air like a blade. “You call yourself Alpha King material, yet you can’t even keep my

The air of the sacred grounds felt heavy—like the weight of centuries of duels, grudges, and blood oaths clung to the very wind that stirred between the towering monolith stones. Moonlight poured over the ancient arena in silver waves, casting stark shadows on the ring where Alpha Eugene and Alpha Desmond stood. The crowd, tightly packed into the seats of carved stone, leaned forward, caught between awe and apprehension. Eugene’s breathing was steady at first, but shallow—too shallow. His side, where Desmond’s claws had raked across his flesh minutes earlier, burned with an ache that was far from normal. Even the wind brushing over it felt like acid. The pain throbbed beneath the surface, deeper than the wound itself, and in the back of his mind he knew—this was not natural. The fight had paused for just a heartbeat—Desmond circling with a smirk, waiting for Eugene to push past the agony. Eugene’s back straightened, hiding the tremor in his arm. The crowd didn’t know yet, b

The sacred grounds breathed silence and violence all at once. Dust hung in the air like restless spirits, swirling between the two alphas. Their breath was heavy, ragged in different ways—Desmond’s from the exertion of trying to break Eugene, and Eugene’s from the slow, creeping grip of the poison gnawing at his side. They had been fighting for what felt like hours. Every blow they traded was heavy enough to shake the watching crowd, the clash of steel on steel echoing off the ancient stone pillars. But Eugene could feel it—the heat spreading from his wound, the sluggish pull in his limbs. The moment Desmond’s claws had cut into his side earlier, Eugene had smelled it, the poison. The kind that worked fast if left untended. His cloth clung to him, damp with sweat and blood, the wetness warm where the gash burned. He didn’t have much time before the venom stole his strength completely. And yet, retreat wasn’t in his bones. Not here. Not now. The crowd around the sacred ring

The air over the Sacred Grounds felt heavier than it had at the start of the duel.It was not just the lingering scent of blood and sweat, or the faint smell that still clung to the circle from the wards protecting the arena.It was the tension after Seraphina’s voice rang out like a bell, her words still hanging in the cold night air.Her tone had been steady, almost regal, the faintest tremor of defiance in her gaze as she stood there, spine straight, head high.The flicker of shock that passed through the gathered crowd was immediate—an audible ripple of murmurs breaking out across the circle, swelling into a tide of disbelief and curiosity.Becca’s jaw tightened.She had known Seraphina was ambitious, manipulative even, but to play such a card now, moments after Desmond’s defeat, was a level of boldness she hadn’t anticipated. If the duel was meant to decide the rightful Alpha King, and Desmond had lost to Eugene—badly—this was the only move that could keep the crown within Desmo

The room was too quiet. Seraphina had been sitting in the same chair for what felt like an eternity, her gaze fixed on the clock on the mantel. Every tick of its delicate hands seemed to mock her, each second stretching into something unbearable. She hated waiting. With a sharp exhale, she rose from the chair. The long hem of her gown swept across the polished floor as she began to pace. Her maids, three young women with their hair perfectly braided and their hands folded in front of them, stood near the far wall watching her anxiously. “My lady,” one of them ventured softly, “perhaps you should rest until—” “Rest?” Seraphina turned on her, her eyes flashing like shards of green glass. “Do I look like I’m capable of resting?” The girl flinched. “I only meant—” “I know what you meant,” Seraphina cut in, the edge of her tone slicing through the air. “And if you have nothing useful to say, keep your mouth shut.” The other two maids exchanged uneasy glances. She stalked pas