The air around me thickened around my chest as I stared at my father, his words echoing in my head. Competing in the tournament was one thing, but his next words were an even crueler punishment than needed.
“If you lose to anyone, Lila,” he said, his voice as cold and emotionless as always whenever he spoke to me, “you will cease to be my daughter.”
Part of me almost laughed at the absurdity of it. It would have been so much more painful to me if he was a decent father at least. Being his daughter had never brought me anything but pain, torment, and endless expectations that I never seemed to meet. If anything, the idea of no longer being his child was liberating.
But I wasn’t naïve. Losing would come with consequences far worse than being disowned. I knew my father well enough to understand that if I failed, the punishment would be brutal, perhaps even worse than anything I had endured before. I could still feel the fresh sting of the wooden stick from yesterday’s punishment. That was only a small taste of what losing in a tournament he didn’t train me for would bring me.
“So, if I win, I’m still your daughter,” I said, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
“If you win,” he replied, leaning closer, his face inches from mine, “you live. And you’ll do whatever is necessary to maintain the status you’ve earned.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. The stakes were as high as they could be. Not just my life, but my freedom. My mission became clear in that moment: I had to win, no matter what. If I lost, he would fulfill his lifelong dream of killing me.
As the day stretched on, the atmosphere in the Alpha King’s pack became more tense. Other warriors, strong, towering figures with years of experience etched into every scar on their bodies prepared for the tournament. I watched them, trying not to let my fear show. My own training had been brutal, but it was nothing compared to what these men and women had endured. I was at a severe disadvantage, but I couldn’t let that stop me.
By the time the tournament began, I could hardly breathe. The massive arena loomed ahead, filled with spectators from all over the region. My father stood beside me, his cold gaze never leaving my face as if daring me to show any sign of weakness. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Remember what I said,” Harold muttered. “If you lose…”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My palms were slick with sweat as we stepped into the ring, the center of the arena where the matches would take place. It was only then that I realized what kind of tournament this was.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the air, sending a chill down my spine.
“This tournament will be a fight to the death!”
I froze. A fight to the death? I thought this was about skill, about proving strength, not murder. My stomach twisted violently, and I could feel the color drain from my face.
Around me, the other competitors seemed unfazed by the announcement, their faces hardened with grim determination as if they had known about it and they were sure that they would not be the ones to die.
I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t trained to kill. How could I? The thought of taking another life made my chest tighten with horror. I couldn’t even lose the fight shamefully. My father wouldn’t be given the chance to kill me since I would be dead out there.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The fight was about to begin, and I knew that if I hesitated for even a second, I would be the first to die. The crowd roared as the signal was given, and all around me, chaos erupted.
The competitors launched at each other, bodies colliding in a blur of violence. I saw the glint of blades, heard the sickening crunch of bone as people shifted into their wolves, and the screams of agony. My heart pounded in my chest as I scrambled backward, the instinct to survive overriding everything else.
I couldn’t fight these people. They were stronger, faster, more experienced. Then, I realized that I didn’t have to fight them—not if I could outsmart them.
I slipped through the chaos, keeping low and out of sight. The crowd was too focused on the bloodbath unfolding in the center of the ring to notice me. My only chance was to hide, to wait until the others had torn each other apart. It wasn’t honorable, but I didn’t care about honor. I cared about staying alive. I didn’t want to die just yet.
I found a small alcove near the edge of the arena, well hidden behind a pillar. From there, I watched as the other competitors battled to the death, showing raw and savage displays of strength. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept still.
When the dust finally settled, there was only one person left standing—a hulking man with blood dripping from his fists. He looked around, chest heaving, thinking he had won as the crowd cheered.
Then, I stepped out from my hiding place. I could hear the cheers and the claps come to a halt, giving room for whispers and mutters.
The man turned to see who everyone was now looking at, and his eyes locked on me, narrowing in disbelief.
“You,” he growled, contempt in his voice. “You coward!”
I didn’t respond. Words didn’t matter now. I had to fight. My legs felt weak, my arms like lead, but I forced myself forward, meeting his charge with everything I had, thankful that he had exhausted himself from the previous fights.
The fight was brutal, more grueling than anything that my father had ever put me through. We traded blows, our bodies clashing with raw, desperate energy. Every time I thought I might lose, I found a reserve of strength buried deep inside me—a strength born not of training, but of survival.
I couldn’t lose. I wouldn’t lose. That was not how I would die.
In the end, it was my speed that saved me. As he lunged for me one final time, I dodged, sliding behind him and driving my fist into the back of his knee. He stumbled, and I seized the opportunity, grabbing the blade from his hand and plunging it into his chest, fixing my claws in the cavity and pulling his heart out.
He collapsed at my feet, the life draining from his eyes.
I won.
The crowd erupted into a roar, but I barely heard it. My entire body trembled with exhaustion and disbelief. I had done it. I had survived.
But when I looked toward the Alpha King’s box, I didn’t see pride or triumph in his eyes. I saw disgust, and my heart crashed to the ground. He turned his back on the arena, walking away without a word, clearly annoyed with the result.
My father, on the other hand, wasted no time. He grabbed me by the arm, dragging me towards the direction where the Alpha King had gone.
“Come on,” he muttered, clearly in a hurry.
“What are you doing?” I asked, still reeling from the fight, my thoughts scattered.
“Convincing the Alpha King that you won fair and square,” he said coldly. “He doesn’t like cowards.
Unfortunately, you indirectly let him think that I raised one. But you won, and that’s all that matters.”
I stiffened at the word. Coward. Was that what the Alpha King truly thought of me? Hiding had been my only option. I’d done what I needed to do to survive. Wasn’t that impressive?
When we reached the Alpha King’s house, my father began speaking quickly, trying to convince the king that I had earned my victory. I stood silently beside him, confused and dazed, but the Alpha King barely looked at me. He seemed more interested in my father’s words than in me.
“She fought well at the end,” he said in my defence for the first time ever. “You saw it yourself. She’s a fighter.”
The Alpha King looked down at me, his gaze sharp and assessing. I could feel the weight of his judgment, but eventually, he nodded.
“Fine,” he said.
I blinked, still unsure what any of this meant. What was my father convincing him of? Why did it matter so much?
The answer came when my father turned to me, always ever late to break the news.
“You’ve been handed to the Alpha King,” he said flatly. “You’ll serve him now, as a reward for your victory.”