ADAM
She did it.
The thought came slow, disbelieving, as I stared at the combat field now cloaked in an unnatural silence. The noise that had thundered through the arena moments ago had died so completely that I could hear the wind dragging sand across the ground.
The crowd was frozen—mouths parted, breaths caught. Even the royal guests from distant packs had fallen quiet, their jeweled goblets stilled midair.
Sage stood in the middle of the field, chest rising and falling, her hair sticking to her face with sweat and blood. The defeated warrior lay at her feet, motionless but breathing. She didn't gloat. She didn't celebrate. She simply looked down at him, lips curling into a faint, sharp sneer—one that carried both victory and disdain.
The sight stirred something in me I couldn't name.
