Lyra couldn't move, pain and shock rooting her to the spot as Quentin tried to tear into her throat.
But just before his fangs grazed her skin, the feral bear referee, stopped him in his tracks, clamping his muzzle shut with one massive paw and hoisting him up like a ragdoll.
After yanking him away from Lyra, who clutched her aching abdomen where her wound throbbed, the referee slammed Quentin's head into the ground.
A dull thud and a groan from Quentin were all that broke the silence before the stadium erupted in screams and chaos.
Lyra's hands trembled, cold blood coating them.
Fear began to creep in, her consciousness slipping as she wondered if this was the end.
She heard distant voices—Kai shouting frantically, Darius demanding medical attention.
Lyra's eyes flicked to Quentin, still struggling but pinned down by the feral bear's iron grip.
Despite the fear of dying, a strange relief washed over her… She had won.
With that realization, Lyra's eyes fluttered shut, her strength fading as she slumped onto the mat, slipping into darkness.
<><><>
Lyra's eyes cracked open in a hospital room, surrounded by beeping monitors and needles piercing her veins.
She felt too weak to move, her mind foggy from anesthesia.
The sterile chill and sharp scent of antiseptic overwhelmed her senses, the nurses' chatter and steady footsteps grating on her nerves.
Kai, seated beside her, noticed her eyes open and shot to the edge of her bed faster than he ever moved in sparring.
"Lyra? Don't move! I'll get the doctor!" he blurted, bolting out of the room.
After some tests, the doctor confirmed she was stable and could be discharged soon.
"Your feral genes help you heal faster," he explained. "Just needed a transfusion of synthetic blood and some cauterization for the wound." He paused. "As for the scar… it should fade completely in a few months."
Lyra wasn't thrilled about sporting a scar for a while, but truth be told, she felt lucky to be feral.
After all, with the injuries she'd racked up over her life, she'd have been long dead if she were human.
Kai, at her side, looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes, blaming himself for what happened.
"I'm so sorry…" he muttered once the doctor left. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you."
Lyra turned to him, her movements sluggish from the anesthesia.
"You didn't push me," she said with a faint smile. "I wanted this… It felt good to prove I'm more than some scrawny, fragile feral."
Kai let out a heavy sigh, wrestling with her words.
"You almost died…"
"This? Pfft, you should've seen me after some street brawls," she teased, recalling those 'fights' that were mostly her scrambling to escape with her life.
"And back then, I didn't exactly get hospital VIP treatment…" she added, her tired eyes meeting Kai's. "This chance you gave me? That's why I'm still here."
Her words seemed to crack something in Kai, the weight of guilt and the nagging feeling that he was selfishly using Lyra for his own goals crushing him.
"Don't thank me for almost getting you killed."
"It wasn't your fault," Lyra said, her gaze sharpening. "Besides, I didn't die. We'll be back to training in no time."
Kai scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Okay… but if you ever want out, I can help you find something else. Another job."
"Kai, stop it. This is what I want," Lyra shot back, frowning.
"That fight…" she went on, remembering how she'd held her own, matching Quentin blow for blow until he snapped and transformed. "I've never felt so alive, Kai. For the first time, I fought head-on."
Kai nodded, seeming to grasp her words, though his eyes still pleaded with her to reconsider.
His mind was a storm of doubts, questioning why he was so desperate to keep her from getting hurt.
'This is the damn sport… I always knew that. So why's it so hard to accept she might get banged up again?' he thought, frustrated with himself.
But there was no turning back. He'd respect Lyra's choice and do everything to support her on this path.
That was the plan all along, anyway.
Hours later, Darius stopped by briefly to check on Lyra and talk about the fight's outcome.
He explained that, even though Quentin was disqualified, everyone already considered Lyra the victor before it came to that.
The bear referee apologized for not catching Quentin's attack sooner and promised… disciplinary measures for him.
Lyra swallowed hard, wishing she hadn't understood what that meant, but it was too obvious to ignore.
That feral panther wouldn't be seen again. At least not in public.
By nightfall, after Darius left, Lyra was alone with Kai, who was calmly scrolling through his phone.
Lyra wondered why he hadn't left yet, a nervous flutter stirring at his presence.
The doctors had already confirmed she was stable—no need for him to stick around. Yet there he was. Staying.
Lyra turned her face away, hiding a faint blush.
She knew he didn't have to be there, but she didn't want to ask him to leave either.
Having him there gave her a sense of comfort she thought she'd long forgotten.
Darius's guidance, Kai's constant support—it hit her that, for the first time in years, she wasn't alone.
And for the first time in even longer, she dared to say she was happy.
"Thanks for everything…" she whispered to herself, too shy to say it to Kai's face.