The circle was drawn in blood and ash.
Warriors of both packs stood in silence, the air tense, waiting for the ancient rite to begin. The Trial of Claws — a brutal, barehanded duel between Alphas — was not common, but it was sacred. There would be no shifting, no weapons. Only skin, bone, and the will to dominate.
Kael stood at the center, stripped to the waist with bandage wrapped around his old wound that has refused to heal properly, his arms scarred but steady. His breath was calm, but his eyes burned — not with fear, but with pressure. He was Alpha. He could not afford to lose.
Across from him, the challenger stepped forward.
Rovan of Talonfang.
The rogue Alpha was taller, built like a boulder, and wore his smirk like armor. His pack flanked him in shadows, watching, judging.
"Ready to kneel, Kael of Mooncrest?"
Rovan's voice was gravel soaked in poison.
Kael didn't answer.
Selene stood behind the crowd, her heart hammering in her chest. She had never seen a Trial before, but the weight of it pressed into her ribs. Marcus stood beside her, jaw clenched.
"He can't shift" she whispered.
"No," Marcus replied. "Not since the curse. If he tries, his body will tear itself apart."
Selene's throat dried.
And yet here he stood — facing a shifter who could shift, but wouldn't need to.
The officiator stepped into the ring.
"Trial of Claws," he called. "To the pain. Not to the death. If either submits or is rendered unconscious, the trial ends."
He looked at both Alphas. "Begin."
No war drums. No warning.
Rovan lunged like a bull.
Kael sidestepped, smooth and fast, driving his elbow into Rovan's ribs. Rovan grunted, stumbled — but turned with a swing that barely missed Kael's head.
Selene flinched.
The crowd roared.
Flesh met flesh.
The fight was savage.
Kael used speed and agility — Rovan used sheer brute force. He slammed Kael into the ground once, twice, but Kael rose each time, eyes blazing, blood running from his nose.
Selene couldn't look away.
Rovan caught Kael with a knee to the stomach — Kael dropped to one knee, wheezing, blood dripping from his old wound.
But then, with a twist of his torso and a growl of effort, he launched upward and slammed his fist into Rovan's jaw. The rogue reeled, teeth bloodied.
Kael followed through, relentless. He drove Rovan back with punches so precise they seemed practiced — until Rovan turned suddenly and headbutted him with a sickening crack.
Kael hit the ground.
Silence.
Rovan stepped forward, looming over him.
"Yield."
Kael coughed blood, but he didn't speak.
"Yield, Kael. Or I'll bury you here."
Kael spat blood at his feet.
Then surged upward.
He tackled Rovan low, using his weight to drive the man off his balance. They rolled in the dust, fists flying, grunts and growls echoing around the clearing.
Selene's heart was in her throat.
Kael had a cut over one eye, swelling fast. His ribs were bruised, maybe cracked. But something had shifted — he was angry now. Controlled, but furious.
Rovan swung wildly — Kael ducked and landed a brutal uppercut to his jaw.
Then another.
And another.
The final blow sent Rovan crashing backward, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The crowd exploded.
Mooncrest wolves howled in victory.
Selene felt her legs go weak with relief.
Kael stumbled, caught himself on shaky feet. Blood streaked down his chest. Marcus ran to him, supporting him with one arm.
Selene ran too.
Kael didn't protest as they helped him from the ring. His breath came shallow, and his skin was pale beneath the blood.
"You're okay," Selene whispered. "You did it."
Kael looked at her, the edges of a bitter smile curling his lips. "For now."
Back at the packhouse, Selene refused to leave his side. She helped clean the wounds, wrapped bandages tight, kept his stubborn pride from pushing her away.
He never said thank you.
But he didn't stop her, either.
And that said more.
Selene's hands trembled slightly as she helped him sit. She hadn't forgotten the deep, angry wound that curved just below his ribs — a wound from weeks ago, one that hadn't healed properly. She'd been taking care of it for him even though he never truly appreciated her for it.
She dabbed the area gently, but it was already inflamed and raw, the skin darkened unnaturally around the edges.
"You reopened this," she murmured, fingers brushing near the edge of the wound as she dabbed the blood away. "Why didn't you say something?"
Kael's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "Because I had no choice."
His voice was gravel, low and raw, and she recognized the look in his eyes — not just pain, but shame. He hated being seen like this.
"You're not weak," she said before he could look away. "Fighting like that while carrying this… it's strength. Not failure."
He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either.
The door burst open.
Only this time, the storm didn't howl. It walked in.
Talia.
She moved like a shadow dressed in silk, her eyes sharp and cold. The air shifted instantly, the kind of change that made the hairs on Selene's arms rise. There was a sharp perfume in the air — too sweet, too strong.
Marcus stood up fast from the corner.
"Talia," he said cautiously. "This isn't—"
"I'm not here for you," she cut in, voice smooth as glass. "Obviously."
Kael's entire body stiffened at the sound of her voice. He didn't rise — couldn't, not easily — but his spine straightened like a steel rod.
Selene saw it. The change. The tension.
He didn't just know her. He remembered her.
"Talia," he said quietly. No warmth. No welcome.
She smiled, walking closer. "You look like hell. Is this what happens when I'm gone too long?"
Selene stepped between them without thinking.
Talia arched a brow. "Ah. And who's this little protector?"
"Enough," Kael said sharply. "What do you want?"
Talia tilted her head, her gaze flicking from Kael's wound to Selene's stance. "I want what I've always wanted. To make sure you don't get yourself killed for the wrong reasons."
She took another step forward, ignoring Selene completely now. "You're bleeding allies, Kael. Word is already spreading — that you're cursed, that you're weak. That Mooncrest is ready to fall. I came to offer… stability."
Kael's voice dropped. "You came to twist the knife."
Talia smiled faintly. "That too."
Her presence filled the room like smoke — choking, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
Selene's fingers tightened at her sides.
And Kael, bruised and bloodied, never looked away from the woman who once held his trust — and maybe still held a piece of his heart.