The night tasted of iron. I could smell it in the air before I even reached the training grounds. Metallic, sharp, bitter. A warning that blood would be spilled before the torches burned out.
The warriors stood in a wide circle, shadows cast long by the flames. Their eyes followed me, cold and eager, like predators waiting for a kill. Some sneered openly, others whispered behind their hands. Every step I took, their words scraped against my skin.
"She won't last a minute."
"Traitor's blood never runs clean."
"She deserves worse than this."
I ignored them, but my pulse drummed so loud I thought they could hear it.
The System's voice coiled through my head like smoke.
Mission: Survive the Blood Oath.
Failure: Execution at dawn.
I clenched my fists. "And if I win?" I whispered under my breath.
Reward: Temporary trust points with Alpha Ronan. Progress will be monitored.
Trust points. As if trust was a currency. As if Ronan's cold, broken heart could ever be bought.
A hush swept over the circle. My spine stiffened.
He was here.
Ronan stepped out of the shadows, and the crowd instantly bent under his presence. The torchlight struck his black armor, tracing the edges of broad shoulders and the sharp lines of a face carved in stone. Golden eyes burned through the night, cutting into me as though he could rip every thought straight from my skull.
"Do you know why you stand here tonight, Ayla?" His voice carried across the circle, deep and unyielding.
"Yes." My throat was dry, but my voice did not shake.
"Then say it."
The words sliced me open. Still, I forced them out. "Because I betrayed you once. And now my loyalty must be tested."
The circle hissed with whispers. Betrayal. They loved that word. It rolled on their tongues like venom.
Ronan's jaw flexed, his gaze sharp as a blade. "The Blood Oath is no game. Fail, and your life is mine."
I lifted my chin, though my chest felt heavy. "Then you'd better watch me win."
For a flicker, something unreadable crossed his face. Amusement? Annoyance? Or maybe the memory of what I used to be.
The warriors parted, and Kieran stepped into the circle. Tall, scarred, with a grin that promised pain. His eyes glowed faintly, and his claws caught the firelight.
"Her opponent," Ronan said, voice flat.
My stomach twisted. Kieran wasn't just strong. He was vicious. He had the kind of cruelty that didn't stop when the fight ended.
The System's voice cut again.
New condition: You must not only survive, but win.
Fail, and trust points reset to zero.
I gritted my teeth. Of course. It would never let me take the easy path.
Kieran cracked his knuckles. "Ready to bleed, traitor?"
I didn't answer. Words were nothing here. Only blood spoke.
The horn sounded.
Kieran lunged.
His first strike was a storm. His fist slammed against my guard, the force rattling down my bones. Pain flared through my ribs as I staggered back. Laughter erupted around us.
"Pathetic," someone jeered.
But I wasn't down. Not yet.
The second blow came faster. I ducked low, muscle memory snapping awake in my body. The old Ayla—the one who trained as a wolf of the court—still lived somewhere in my bones. My claws slashed upward, grazing his arm. Not deep, but enough to draw blood.
Gasps rippled. The scent of it—warm, sharp—filled the circle.
Kieran grinned wider, eyes gleaming. "Good. I like prey that fights back."
He came at me again, but this time, I didn't dodge. I twisted into his charge, slammed my knee into his ribs, and raked claws across his chest. The impact jarred through me, but he stumbled, coughing.
A flicker of pride surged in me. For the first time, I felt Ronan's eyes on me like a brand. Watching. Measuring.
But Kieran wasn't finished. His fury doubled. He slammed his elbow into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. I hit the dirt hard, grit filling my mouth. Pain screamed across my ribs.
Get up, the System hissed.
"I know!" I spat blood into the dirt.
Kieran loomed over me, claws aimed for my throat. "You're finished."
Time slowed. The torches, the circle, the sneering faces—all blurred. Instinct took over.
I rolled, caught his wrist, and drove my claws deep into his arm. His howl tore through the night. Using his own weight, I flipped him hard onto the ground. The dirt trembled under the impact.
The circle gasped.
I scrambled to my feet, chest heaving, blood dripping from my lips. Kieran groaned, thrashing, but I planted my claws at his throat.
"Yield," I rasped.
His glare burned with hatred. But slowly, with a snarl, he raised his hands in surrender.
The horn blared.
Silence.
Then the crowd erupted—half in outrage, half in awe.
I turned, searching Ronan's face. His golden eyes locked on me, unreadable, but fire flickered deep inside them.
"You've proven your strength," he said at last. His voice rolled through the circle like thunder. "But strength does not erase betrayal."
The System chimed.
Mission complete. Reward granted.
I clenched my fists. "Then what will erase it?"
The question slipped free before I could stop it. Too reckless. Too raw.
For one heartbeat, his hand lifted, as if to touch me, to brush the blood from my jaw. My breath caught. The night felt too quiet, too close.
But then his hand curled into a fist. His gaze hardened.
"Nothing," he said coldly. "Not in this life."
His cloak snapped in the night wind as he turned, striding away. The circle parted around him as though the earth itself moved for his command.
I stood alone, chest heaving, claws dripping red.
The System whispered again, colder than before.
New Mission: Kill the rival she-wolf within three days.
Failure: Permanent death.
My blood iced. Permanent. Not punishment, not pain. Death.
Laughter cut through the crowd like glass. I lifted my head.
She was there.
The rival. Her crimson gown shimmered in the firelight, her lips curved in a cruel smile. She tilted her head, eyes glinting with delight.
And for the first time tonight, I understood. This was never about surviving the Blood Oath. That was just the beginning.
The true trap had only just closed.