KIERAN’S POV
As soon as I stepped foot into the OTS headquarters, I realized what a stupid mistake I’d made.
But then again, wasn’t I making a lot of those lately?
When Gavin handed the phone and told who was on the line, my first instinct was to laugh it off—maybe even toss the damned thing into my office fire pit.
I had a hard ti getting a handle on the kind of man Reed was, but from my experience, he wasn’t the type who sought others out—or at least, —unless there was a calculation behind it.
And I was sure, this eting request from him wasn’t courtesy—it was strategy.
And, of course, there was a chance that it was just plain old provocation.
The LST was already making waves across the entire werewolf world—and my ex-wife was at the center of it all.
Seraphina, once overlooked and hidden, was now shining under the spotlight as Lucian Reed’s star trainee.
The image of her at the gala still clawed at at the most inopportune tis—the way she’d stood beside him, luminous in her gown, her chin tilted high enough to tell the world she wasn’t afraid anymore.
More than her beauty and fierce confidence, what really gutted was the way she looked like she belonged there—next to him.
It seed that she had made her choice and was sticking firmly to it. And she’d chosen him.
I should have hung up. I nearly did—my thumb hovered over the disconnect button, pulse pounding.
But then...I didn’t.
Because wouldn’t that be declaring that Lucian had so kind of hold over ?
Maybe curiosity, maybe pride—most likely both—forced to accept.
The eting location he proposed was the OTS Arena itself.
In the hours before our eting, I’d struggled to find his angle and co up empty.
As soon as I noticed he was becoming sothing of a fixture in Sera’s life, I’d had Gavin investigate his background—more than once.
But every report ca back spotless—no illicit trades, no political missteps, no exploitable weaknesses. It was almost too perfect, as if he curated what people were allowed to see.
And that was enough to make suspicious.
How had he built his empire so quietly and steadily? What were his plans now that he was stepping into the light?
I had no answers for my countless, gnawing questions. So all I could do was watch patiently, waiting for inevitable cracks in his flawless facade to show.
And what better way to monitor him than on his turf?
***
The OTS Arena rose before like so ancient coliseum reborn, its edges gleaming in the morning sun, shadows slicing across its structure.
The closer I ca, the more I had to admit—reluctantly—that no secondhand account had done it justice.
This place wasn’t just built; it was forged. Every stone scread permanence, every curve of the stands bent toward spectacle, every shimr of protective wards along the periter promised sothing both brutal and glorious.
Lucian was already there, of course, waiting for like he owned not just the Arena, but the very air itself.
His posture was easy and controlled, his hands clasped behind his back. The way his scrutinizing gaze washed over made bristle.
“Alpha Blackthorne,” he greeted, his low voice calm—to the point that it was unsettling.
“Cut the pleasantries, Reed,” I said, stepping onto the sand of the Arena floor.
The grit shifted beneath my boots, and I couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like when soaked with blood. “Why did you ask here?”
His mouth curved slightly in the barest suggestion of a smile as he swept his arm around us. “You don’t find it impressive?”
I swept my gaze across the vastness of the place, the tiered seating that seed to swallow the horizon, the wards that shimred faintly like heat mirages.
It was impressive. But I’d be damned before I admitted it aloud.
“You didn’t summon here just to give a tour of your playground,” I hissed. “What. Do. You. Want?”
He turned his head, studying the light as it fell over the pillars that jutted from the ground.
His silence stretched long enough to irritate , until finally he asked, almost idly, “Do you expect to witness her transformation here?”
My chest constricted. I didn’t need him to say her na—I knew exactly who he ant.
Rage and regret battled in as the mory of the gala returned in vivid detail.
Seraphina’s laughter spilling out, bright and bittersweet, her hand resting on his arm as if it belonged there.
The pride blazing in her eyes—for him. Never .
Realization hit like a sucker punch.
Lucian Reed hadn’t called here for business. The fucker called here to gloat.
“You bastard,” I hissed, spinning on my heel. “You dragged all the way here to what? Rub it in my face?”
I was halfway to leaving when his voice carried after , sharp as a whip.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
I stopped. Against my better judgnt, I stopped. Because that was exactly what I was: curious.
Lucian’s tone deepened, deliberate. “Don’t you wonder what allowed her to step out of the shadows?” He smirked, obviously proud of his wordplay. “To stand tall, confident, unbreakable? To beco so...captivating?”
My fists clenched at my sides.
“I didn’t do anything extraordinary,” he went on smoothly. “All I did was what you never managed. I didn’t neglect her. I didn’t hurt her.”
I whirled, fury burning hot in my veins. “You have no fucking right to lecture .”
His composure cracked, but all it did was reveal the steel beneath. “On the contrary, I find I do. Before I knew your history, I thought you were a great Alpha. A wise man. Soone worthy of respect.”
He shook his head, and the disappointnt etched into his features made my teeth grind. “But now? All I see is weakness. A flawed man.”
The insult exploded inside , a raw detonation of sha and fury I couldn’t contain.
“You think you can judge ?” My voice thundered, echoing through the empty arena. “You’ve known Seraphina for what—months? I shared a life with her—a marriage. We have a son together, Lucian. A son. That bond outweighs anything you can claim.”
He didn’t flinch. “And yet, the ti I will spend with her from now on will surpass yours. The place I will hold in her life will surpass yours. And perhaps”— his voice dropped, almost taunting—“we will have children together too. What flimsy thread will you then hold on to?”
I snapped.
I closed the distance in a heartbeat and drove my fist into his jaw. The impact reverberated up my arm, sharp and satisfying.
Lucian staggered back, but he didn’t fall. In fact, he straightened, wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, and smiled.
“Finally,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted this for a long, long ti.”
The fight was instant, feral.
Lucian ca at hard, his strikes clean and rciless, honed by years of training.
I countered with brute force, each blow fueled by the rage boiling in my chest. Sand erupted beneath our boots, the walls of the arena vibrating with the echo of our clash.
We weren’t just fighting—we were venting. Every insult, every resentnt, every buried frustration exploded into fists and claws and sweat.
I caught his ribs with a savage hook, felt the satisfying crunch beneath my knuckles. He retaliated with a spinning strike that split my cheek open.
Pain lanced through , bright and hot, but instead of slowing, I roared and threw myself back into the fray.
And gods help , for a fleeting mont, I felt...exhilaration.
It had been too long since I’d fought soone who matched blow for blow.
Lucian wasn’t just strong—he was disciplined, precise, relentless.
Each strike t resistance, each push found counterforce. The symtry of it was maddening and intoxicating all at once.
Minutes blurred into eternity. Sweat stung my eyes, blood dripped down my chin, muscles scread in protest.
Neither of us yielded.
Finally, in one last furious exchange, we both struck at the sa ti. My fist slamd into his chest just as his elbow cracked against my temple.
The force sent us both stumbling, collapsing into the sand.
We lay there, panting, breath ragged and raw. The sky spun wildly above us.
Pain tore through my limbs, mingling with a fierce surge of pride. I’d edged him out—barely, but undeniably.
Lucian sat up first, blood trailing from his mouth, and looked at with sothing strange in his eyes.
Not hatred. Not anger. Sothing closer to...respect.
And then he said it.
“I want you to be the Gatekeeper Boss.”
I blinked, the words almost absurd in the silence after our brawl. “What?”
“You heard ,” he said, voice steady despite the fight we’d just had. “The final gate of the tournant. The one no contender can walk through without proving themselves.”
I barked a harsh laugh, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “You brought here, provoked , fought into the dirt—all to ask to play doorman for your gas?”
His mouth curved, faint and infuriatingly sure. “Not a doorman. The gate itself. The crucible. The one challenge no wolf can dismiss.”
Anger flared again, though this ti it tangled with confusion. “And why the hell would I help you?”
Lucian rose smoothly, brushing the dust from his clothes. Then he smiled at amiably, as if we hadn’t just tried to kill each other. “I have a feeling you will.”
My eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so sure.”
He leaned down just slightly, his gaze piercing. “I am. You’re the only one strong enough to carry that weight. And I know you want to prove yourself. To her.”
Then he straightened, already walking toward the exit. His voice drifted back, calm, final: “I’ll see you tomorrow. Noon. You know where.”
The arrogance in his certainty scorched hotter than my wounds.
I surged to my feet, fury thrumming in my veins.
With a roar, I slamd my fist into the arena wall. Stone cracked, fragnts raining down around .
“Damn you, Lucian!”
The echo carried, mocking .
But deep down—too deep to admit aloud—I knew the bastard was right.
I would accept.
I could never walk away from a challenge. Or from her.
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