Chapter 0410

"Lillian, you're one of our strongest warriors. Why are you trembling?" Isolde asks, and I don't miss the way Lillian's lips quiver. If this competition is causing her this much distress, I won't hesitate to pull her out.

Leopold steps in before she can respond. "She's terrified of disappointing you both."

Isolde takes Lillian's hands in hers. "Sweetheart, just being here makes us proud. You don’t have to prove anything to us."

Lillian lifts her gaze, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You’ve given me everything. I just... I want to show you it wasn’t wasted. But I’ve never fought like this before."

I step closer. "Lillian, I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t believe in you. But if you’re not ready, I can withdraw your name."

Her spine straightens instantly. "No! I’m competing. I just—I need to do this right."

"Then relax. You already have."

After breakfast, we head to the arena where Leopold will fight. Only 448 contestants remain today—acting Betas, retired Betas, or anyone over eighteen with Beta blood. Some packs, like ours, have two fighters.

"I’ll go support Lillian. You stay with Leopold," Isolde says, knowing I need to be here for him. I kiss her before she leaves.

"Link me updates on her progress." She winks over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

I turn back just as Leopold enters the ring. He stands motionless, radiating calm, but through our bond, I feel the nerves he’s suppressing. He’s always been like this—controlled, disciplined. He’d have made a phenomenal Alpha.

His opponent, Rafael’s Beta, is the exact opposite. The guy struts in like he’s in a human boxing match, bouncing on his toes, shadowboxing, riling up the crowd. It’s all flash, no substance.

When the fight starts, the Beta charges hard. Leopold ducks under his wild swing and drives a fist into his stomach. The Beta staggers, his cocky grin slipping.

He’s still dancing, but slower now, breathing harder. That first hit made him rethink his strategy. Leopold shifts into a defensive stance, waiting.

The Beta swings again. Leopold takes a hit to the ribs but uses the opening to smash his fist into the Beta’s face. The man crashes to his knees.

Rafael screams at him to get up. The Beta wipes blood from his mouth and lunges again. Leopold sidesteps, sweeps his legs out, and slams a fist into his solar plexus. The Beta wheezes, gasping for air.

Leopold steps back, waiting. Rafael snarls threats—lose now, lose your rank. The Beta staggers up, and Leopold finally speaks.

"You should’ve stayed down."

This time, Leopold doesn’t hold back. Punch after punch—gut, ribs, kidneys, head—until the Beta collapses at his feet.

"Do you yield?" Leopold’s voice is ice.

"Go to hell!" The Beta spits blood as he struggles up.

Leopold’s eyes darken. "I gave you a chance."

He strikes again—a brutal elbow to the knee. The audible pop is followed by a scream.

The referee calls it. Our pack erupts in cheers. Leopold walks away without glancing at Rafael or his fallen Beta.