Aria
Blood.
It was the first thing I saw when the duel began.
Ryle didn’t waste time. He lunged at Matthew like a beast unchained, all age forgotten the second his claws slashed through the air. His strikes were brutal—sharp, fast, rehearsed. Years of dominance, years of leading without question, all poured into every movement.
Matthew staggered at the first hit, a claw ripping across his chest. I gasped, a hand flying to my mouth as crimson stained his skin. But he didn’t fall. He didn’t back down.
He growled, low and deep, and struck back—hard. And so it began. Two Alphas, both born to lead, both raised in power—but only one would walk out of that ring unbroken.
The circle was sacred. No interference. No weapons. No mercy. It was the law of the blood and the bone.
Ryle was older, but he moved like a shadow. His strikes were calculated, meant to tear muscle, to humiliate. He knew where to hit, how to make pain echo through the nerves like thunder.
But Matthew—Matthew fought like a storm. He didn’t fight with grace. He fought with fire.
With every blow, I saw it—the rage that had built for years. The scars he’d hidden. The insults he’d swallowed. Every time he was told to obey. To be less. To follow. It all erupted from his fists like he was finally saying, No more.
They clashed again and again, the sound of bodies slamming against stone ringing through the cold air. The pack watched in complete silence—no cheering, no shouts. Just the sound of breath, of blood, of history being rewritten.
Matthew stumbled once—Ryle kicked him down with a roar and lunged forward, fangs bared for the killing bite.
My breath caught in my throat. My knees buckled. Please. I closed my eyes. Not to pray to the Moon Goddess. But to myself.
Please, I whispered inside. Let him win. Just this once… let someone fight for me and mean it.
I opened my eyes just as Ryle struck. But Matthew moved faster.
With a roar that split the sky, he rolled, grabbed Ryle’s wrist mid-strike, and snapped it back. Ryle screamed, staggering—just long enough for Matthew to throw him to the ground and maul him across the chest.
It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t precise. It was raw. Savage. But it was enough. Blood splattered the stone.
Ryle tried to rise—Matthew stepped on his back and shoved him flat.
And the Alpha of Blue Stone dropped to his knees. The clearing was silent. The pack, frozen. The man they’d followed for years… had submitted.
Matthew’s chest heaved, his body trembling, covered in bruises, scratches, and blood—his and his father’s. He stood in the center of the circle, taller than I’d ever seen him.
He didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t roar in victory. He just turned and looked at me. And then he spoke.
“From this day on,” Matthew said, voice hoarse but loud, “no Luna will ever be mocked. No mate ever dishonored me.”
He scanned the crowd. Warriors. Elders. Omegas.
“And no she-wolf,” he said, eyes locking on mine, “will ever be silenced in my pack again.”