"He was losing. My mate was losing."
My chest squeezed so tight I thought I might suffocate, every breath a conscious battle against the iron bands of panic wrapping around my ribs. The mate bond pulsed with waves of agony that had nothing to do with physical pain and everything to do with watching the other half of my soul being systematically destroyed.
The sand beneath Darius's knees was already dark with blood, the crimson drops catching the torchlight like scattered rubies. The flickering flames cast cruel shadows across his bowed frame, highlighting every cut, every bruise, every sign of the beating he was enduring. His breaths came ragged and sharp, his powerful chest heaving with the effort of staying conscious while his wolf howled beneath his skin, clawing desperately to break free and unleash the full fury of his supernatural nature.
And all I could think, the only coherent thought in my spiraling mind, was: He's losing.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, shattering every wall I'd built around my heart since his brutal rejection. My pride screamed at me to stay silent, to let him bear the full weight of the choices he'd made. He had rejected me in front of the entire Academy. He had called me weak, unworthy, a charity case who didn't belong in his perfect world.
And yet my wolf clawed desperately at my ribs with increasing frenzy, urging me to cry out, to somehow give him the strength to keep fighting. The bond between us thrummed with his pain, transmitting every blow Gideon landed directly into my consciousness until I felt like I was the one bleeding in the sand.
The crowd around me leaned forward with predatory hunger, the atmosphere in the arena shifting like a tide turning. What had started as excited anticipation was transforming into something uglier—the bloodlust of wolves scenting a kill.
"Fenrir's slipping—"
"Wicke's got him on the ropes—"
"This fight's already over—"
"Look at the mighty Alpha heir now—"
The whispered words were knives cutting deeper than I'd expected, each cruel observation twisting in my chest like serrated blades. These were students I saw every day in classes and dining halls, wolves who'd gossiped about my rejection but now seemed eager to witness the complete destruction of the male who'd spurned me.
Across the blood-stained circle, Gideon prowled forward like a predator savoring the moment before delivering the killing blow. His amber eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction, his earlier injuries forgotten in the intoxicating rush of dominance. When he spoke, his voice carried clearly across the arena, pitched to reach every enhanced ear present.
"Look at him," he jeered, his calculating gaze locking deliberately on me where I stood frozen among the crowd. "Your great Alpha heir, brought to his knees like a common omega. This is the mate you'd be bound to for life? Pathetic."
The crowd erupted with cruel laughter, the sound rolling across the arena like thunder. Students who'd been placing bets on the outcome now began taking up a rhythmic chant that made my blood run cold.
"Wicke! Wicke! Wicke!"
The name echoed like a war cry, drowning out even the ceremonial beat of the ritual drums. The atmosphere thickened with Gideon's growing confidence, the supernatural tide of dominance shifting decisively in his favor as even neutral observers began to sense the approaching victory.
Darius lifted his head with tremendous effort, his golden eyes still blazing with defiance despite the blood streaming down his face. But his movements were sluggish now, his reflexes slowed by the brutal punishment he'd absorbed. When Gideon's next strike landed—a vicious uppercut that snapped his head back—he hit the sand hard enough to send up clouds of dust.
More blood splattered across the arena floor, dark as ink under the ethereal moonlight.
My nails dug so hard into my palms that I felt the sharp sting of my own blood mixing with the metallic scent already saturating the air. My heart twisted violently in my chest, torn between wounded pride and desperate longing, between the safety of emotional distance and the terrifying vulnerability of caring too much.
"Don't," I whispered, my throat burning with unshed tears. "Don't let him—"
The words were lost in the crowd's increasingly frenzied cheering, but my wolf heard them and pressed harder against my consciousness. My chest ached with the supernatural force of her desperation, her need to somehow reach across the arena and lend our mate the strength to survive.
Through the mate bond, I could feel Darius's wolf straining against his human control, howling for release, for the chance to embrace his full supernatural nature and turn this fight around. But something was holding him back—injury, pride, or perhaps the ingrained discipline that had been beaten into him since childhood.
Their connection flared like fire between us, alive and pulsing, dragging me deeper into his pain until I couldn't tell where his agony ended and mine began.
Gideon stood over his fallen opponent, smirking down at the bloodied Alpha heir with the satisfaction of someone who'd been planning this moment for far longer than anyone realized. When he spoke again, his voice carried the confidence of assured victory.
"You were never worthy of her, Fenrir. You knew it, I knew it, and tonight everyone here will witness the truth."
He gestured to the cheering crowd with theatrical flourish, feeding off their bloodthirsty energy like a performer basking in applause. "Look around you. Listen to them chant my name. They know who the stronger Alpha is, even if your pride was too great to see it."
The crowd's response was immediate and devastating—voices rising in an even more fevered chant for Gideon that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Academy. The sound rattled through my bones, threatening to drown me in a tide of noise that celebrated my mate's destruction.
Students stomped their feet in rhythm with the chant, creating a thunderous beat that drowned out rational thought. Even some of the Academy instructors looked impressed by Gideon's dominance display, their professional neutrality cracking under the weight of supernatural hierarchy reasserting itself.
The pressure building inside my chest reached critical mass, too sharp and violent to contain any longer. My wolf had been pressed beyond her breaking point, her desperate need to protect our mate finally overwhelming every human restraint I'd managed to maintain.
She snapped.
The energy that had been building behind my careful walls for weeks suddenly exploded outward without warning or conscious direction.
"DARIUS!"
The scream ripped from my throat with primal force, carrying power I hadn't known I possessed and probably shouldn't have been able to access. It wasn't just sound—it was pure supernatural dominance given voice, the kind of Alpha command that could bring lesser wolves to their knees.
The air itself shifted around me as energy burst from my chest in visible waves, flooding the entire arena in an aura so thick and bright that students stumbled backward in shock. The silver light seemed to pour directly from my soul, illuminating every corner of the combat circle with ethereal radiance that rivaled the moon itself.
The crowd's triumphant chant died instantly, hundreds of voices silenced by the unexpected force of my wolf's dominance finally unleashed. Even the strongest students found themselves taking involuntary steps away from me, their survival instincts recognizing a power they couldn't understand but definitely feared.
The sand beneath the combatants' feet began to tremble. The ritual torches flared brighter, their flames reaching toward the sky as if drawn by the supernatural energy saturating the air.
And for one perfect, crystalline moment, the entire night held its breath in stunned silence.