I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Kade pinning me to the mat, felt the mate bond flaring between us. My wolf was restless, pacing, whining. She wanted her mate. Wanted to shift, to show him her true form, to let him mark and claim her.
But that could never happen.
I took three times my usual dose of suppressants in the morning, binding my chest so tight I could barely breathe. The combat rankings would be brutal enough without my body betraying me.
Kade was already awake when I emerged from the bathroom, lacing up his boots. He looked up, and something flickered in his eyes—concern, maybe. "You look like hell."
"Couldn't sleep." I grabbed my water bottle, avoiding his gaze. "Nervous about the rankings."
"You'll be fine. You're better than you think."
The kindness in his voice made my chest ache. I didn't deserve his encouragement. Didn't deserve any of this.
"Come on," he said, standing. "We should get breakfast before the trials start."
The dining hall was chaos—hundreds of students cramming food into their mouths, nervous energy crackling through the air. I forced myself to eat, knowing I'd need the fuel, even though my stomach was in knots.
At exactly dawn, we filed into the arena.
It was enormous—a circular pit surrounded by stone bleachers where faculty and upper-year students watched. The sand floor was stained dark from years of blood, and in the center stood Alpha Bloodstone himself.
"First years," he called out, his voice magically amplified. "You will each fight three matches. Win, and you earn points. Lose, and you earn nothing. Refuse to fight, and you will be expelled immediately. Rankings will be posted at sunset."
He gestured to a massive board where names were already appearing, randomly paired.
I scanned the list, my heart sinking when I found my name.
Ash Winters vs. Damon Cross
I didn't know who Damon Cross was, but judging by the whispers around me, he was someone to be afraid of.
"Shit," Kade muttered beside me. He'd found his name on the board too. "You got Damon for your first match?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows him. He's a legacy—his father is Alpha of the Blackfang Pack. Damon's been training since he could walk." Kade's jaw tightened. "He's brutal."
Perfect. My first fight, and I was up against werewolf royalty.
"First match," Bloodstone announced. "Ash Winters and Damon Cross, enter the arena."
My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me down into the pit. The sand shifted beneath my boots, and the crowd's noise faded into a dull roar.
Across from me, Damon Cross descended the opposite stairs.
He was tall—taller than Kade even—with black hair and eyes like blue ice. His body was pure muscle, and he moved with the confidence of someone who'd never lost a fight in his life.
He looked at me and smirked. "They're really scraping the bottom of the barrel this year, aren't they?"
I didn't respond, just dropped into a fighting stance.
Bloodstone raised his hand. "Standard rules. First to submit or fall unconscious loses. Shifting is permitted. Begin!"
Damon didn't waste time. He rushed me, faster than anything his size should move, his fist aimed at my face.
I dodged, barely, feeling the wind of his punch brush past my cheek. Countered with a strike to his ribs that he absorbed like it was nothing.
He was testing me, I realized. Seeing what I could do before he really unleashed.
I needed to end this fast, before he figured out I wasn't what I seemed.
I feinted left, then dropped low, sweeping his legs. He jumped over my leg, landing with predatory grace, and his hand shot out, catching my throat.
He lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing, his fingers tightening.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
My wolf surged forward, desperate, and before I could stop her—
I shifted.
Not fully. Just partially. Enough that claws erupted from my fingers and I raked them across Damon's arm.
He dropped me with a curse, and I hit the sand hard, gasping for air.
But the damage was done.
I'd shifted. And for one brief, terrible second, my wolf had been visible.
Not the brown wolf I'd dyed her to be.
But white. Pure, gleaming white.
I looked up in panic, expecting to see recognition, horror, the realization of what I was.
But Damon was already shifting fully, his body contorting into a massive black wolf with those same ice-blue eyes.
He hadn't seen. The transformation had been too fast, the angle wrong.
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by terror.
Because now I had to fight a full alpha wolf while keeping my true nature hidden.
I shifted too—carefully, making sure the dye held, that the magic disguised my white fur into something ordinary. My wolf was smaller than his, as an omega should be, but she was fast. Agile.
We circled each other, and then Damon lunged.
I met him head-on, our bodies colliding in a tangle of fur and teeth. He was stronger, but I was quicker, darting in to bite at his legs, his flanks, anywhere I could reach.
He caught me once, his jaws closing around my shoulder, and pain exploded through me.
I yelped, my omega instincts screaming at me to submit, to show my belly, to let the stronger wolf win.
But I couldn't. Wouldn't.
I twisted in his grip, ignoring the agony, and sank my teeth into his ear.
He released me with a snarl, and we broke apart, both bleeding, both panting.
The crowd was roaring, but I couldn't hear them over the pounding of my heart.
Damon shifted back to human, blood streaming down his neck. "Not bad, Winters. For a runt."
I shifted back too, my shoulder screaming in protest. "Big talk for someone who's bleeding."
His eyes narrowed, and I knew I'd made a mistake. Alphas didn't like being challenged, especially not by wolves they considered beneath them.
He came at me again, and this time there was no holding back.
We fought like animals—claws and fists and teeth, rolling through the sand, each trying to gain the upper hand.
I was losing. I knew I was losing.
But I'd be damned if I'd submit.
Damon finally got me pinned, his forearm across my throat, his weight crushing me into the sand.
"Submit," he growled.
I stared up at him, defiant even as black spots danced across my vision. "Make me."
Something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or interest.
Then his weight was gone, and I could breathe again.
"Winner: Damon Cross," Bloodstone announced.
I lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky, my whole body aching.
I'd lost my first match.
But I'd survived.
And more importantly, my secret was still safe.
For now.