Chapter 7 – The Weight of Power
The first rays of dawn bled across the horizon, casting the Bloodmoon Pack’s stronghold in a muted glow. Louve pulled her threadbare cloak tighter around her shoulders as the chill of morning seeped into her bones. The earth beneath her feet was cold, damp with dew, and yet her pulse beat hot and heavy in her ears.
Today wasn’t just another day. Today was the day she would prove whether she deserved to stay—or die trying.
She glanced at the open training grounds beyond the rise, where warriors were already gathering in tight clusters, their voices low but laced with sharp curiosity. Every pair of eyes seemed to follow her, even from this distance. Whispers trailed after her like smoke:
The rogue…
The Moonbane mark…
Our Alpha’s mate? Impossible.
Their doubt pressed down like a physical weight, and for the briefest moment, Louve wanted to disappear into the shadows again. She wanted the comfort of solitude, the anonymity that had once kept her alive. But then she remembered Kael’s—or rather, Alpha Dolph’s—cold gray eyes when he ordered her to the training grounds.
If you want to breathe Bloodmoon air, you’ll earn it.
Not an offer. A demand. A test with only two outcomes: rise—or be crushed.
The distant clang of steel on steel snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Louve’s stomach tightened. She wasn’t ready for this. Not truly. Not when every nerve screamed that she didn’t belong. But belonging had been her dream for as long as she could remember, and dreams, she knew, came at a cost.
And so, she walked.
The warriors parted for her as she crossed the field, but it wasn’t out of respect—it was the wariness wolves reserved for something unknown, something that might bite or break without warning. She kept her chin high anyway, even as her palms dampened with sweat.
Alpha Dolph stood at the far end of the field, tall and broad as an ancient oak, his presence commanding enough to silence an army. His silver-streaked black hair glinted in the sunlight, and his eyes—cold, calculating—locked on her like twin blades. He wore no armor, only a black tunic that clung to his muscular frame, and yet he radiated danger as if every inch of him were forged from steel.
“You’re late,” he said, voice smooth but cutting.
“I’m here,” Louve replied, though her throat felt tight.
Dolph’s mouth curved—not in a smile, but something colder. “That remains to be seen.”
Before she could respond, a tall woman with sharp green eyes stepped forward from the line of warriors. Seraphine, the Beta. Her beauty was edged like a dagger—graceful, lethal, and utterly unyielding. She looked Louve up and down, her lips curling into a smirk.
“So this is the rogue you’re risking the pack for,” Seraphine said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tell me, Alpha, do you plan to teach her—or tame her?”
A ripple of amusement ran through the gathered wolves. Louve’s cheeks burned, but she refused to drop her gaze.
“That’s enough, Seraphine,” Dolph said, his tone a warning—though not a fierce one. That unsettled Louve more than if he’d snarled. Seraphine had power here. Influence. And she was using it to sharpen the blade aimed at Louve’s throat.
Dolph gestured toward a circle etched in the dirt, its boundaries marked by iron stakes. “Step in.”
Louve hesitated. “Who am I fighting?”
Dolph’s smirk held no warmth. “Not who. What you fear most.”
The circle seemed to shrink as Louve stepped inside. The ground smelled of sweat, blood, and old victories—the ghosts of warriors who’d fought here before her. She swallowed hard, every instinct screaming to run. But she stayed.
Dolph motioned to Seraphine. The Beta’s eyes gleamed with something wicked as she slid off her tunic, revealing sinewy muscle rippling beneath bronzed skin.
Of course.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Seraphine would be her opponent. A seasoned Beta against a rogue who barely knew her own strength.
“This isn’t fair,” Louve said before she could stop herself.
“Fair?” Seraphine laughed, low and dangerous. “Sweetheart, nothing in this world is fair. Especially not for rogues who think they can play Luna.”
The words landed like claws across Louve’s pride. Anger flared—hot and bright—but beneath it lay fear. Not just fear of Seraphine, but fear of failing… fear of proving everyone right.
The crowd tightened around the circle, hungry for blood. Somewhere in the throng, Louve heard murmurs—bets placed on how long she’d last. Thirty seconds. Maybe a minute.
Dolph’s voice cut through the noise like a blade. “Begin.”
Seraphine moved first—fast, a blur of predatory grace. Louve barely dodged the first strike, the Beta’s clawed hand grazing her ribs and tearing fabric. Pain flared, sharp and real. The world narrowed to breath and instinct.
Louve ducked under the next swipe, rolling across the dirt and coming up clumsy but standing. Her heart thundered like war drums. She needed to think, to plan—but Seraphine didn’t give her the luxury. The Beta was relentless, striking again and again, her smirk never fading.
“Is this all the Moonbane can do?” Seraphine taunted. “Pathetic.”
The mark on Louve’s shoulder burned—not with pain, but with something deeper, something wild. She could almost hear a whisper beneath her heartbeat: Fight.
When Seraphine lunged again, Louve didn’t retreat. She twisted, grabbing the Beta’s arm and using her momentum to slam her into the dirt. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Seraphine snarled, twisting free, but Louve had already moved—faster than she thought possible, her muscles surging with borrowed strength.
For a moment—just a breath—Louve saw surprise flash in Seraphine’s eyes. And in that moment, something shifted inside her. The fear didn’t vanish, but it became fuel.
They clashed again, harder this time. Claws met claws, fists struck flesh, and the circle became a storm of dust and fury. Louve’s lungs burned, her arms ached, but she refused to fall. She refused to lose.
When the end came, it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t pretty. Louve straddled Seraphine, pinning her arms with every ounce of strength she had left, both of them panting like beasts. Blood streaked Louve’s lip; Seraphine’s cheek bore a crimson gash.
“Enough!” Dolph’s voice cracked through the roar of blood in her ears.
Louve froze, chest heaving. Seraphine wrenched free, shoving Louve off her with a glare that promised this wasn’t over.
Dolph stepped into the circle, his shadow falling over Louve. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those cold gray eyes—held something new. Not warmth, not approval… but a flicker of respect.
“You live,” he said simply. “For now.”
And then, with the crowd still buzzing and Seraphine seething, Dolph leaned close enough that only Louve could hear.
“Tomorrow, we start real training. If you want to survive what’s coming… you’ll need more than luck.”
Louve’s breath hitched, her body trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline. She didn’t know what was coming. But judging by the darkness in his tone, it wasn’t just a fight—it was a war.