The Alpha's pretend mate

chapter 29

AVELORA

I had already felt like I was dying from whatever sickness was burning through my veins, but watching the students tear into each other made me retch.

The sound was what haunted me first. An agonizing, wet screech as bone broke and shattered. I looked around the crowded bleachers, my vision blurring, wondering if I was the only person here who was completely lost.

Why were they fighting like this? Why was everyone else smiling?

The heavy, rhythmic pounding of paws tearing across the frozen dirt dragged my attention back to the pit. Dust kicked up beneath the harsh glare of the lights, mingling with the thick smoke from the central bonfire. The air smelled of ash and blood.

“There, left side!” someone yelled from the crowd, spilling their drink in excitement.

The massive gray wolf launched first.

My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird. There was no foreplay. There was no dramatic circling or testing of boundaries.

Just pure, undiluted violence.

The gray slammed into the black wolf hard enough to twist both of their heavy bodies sideways midair. The crowd erupted, a deafening roar that sounded exactly like a stadium celebrating a winning goal in overtime.

Goddess, they were fast. Too fast for my eyes to fully track.

I tore my gaze away from the c*****e, my stomach heaving, and turned toward Khyrix. He wasn’t watching the pit. He was staring directly at me, his expression unreadable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

No, I was completely short-circuiting. The fever in my blood was spiking, making my skin feel too tight for my body, and the brutality in front of me was pushing me over the edge.

"No," I barked, turning my head back toward the arena so he wouldn't see the tears of frustration in my eyes.

It looked as if they were fighting to the death. The black wolf was pinned, snarling with his lips peeled all the way back to expose bloody gums. But in the next heartbeat, he twisted violently, leveraging his hind legs to throw the gray off with enough force to send him skidding yards through the wet mud.

I tightened my hand around the edge of the wooden bench, wood splinters digging into my skin. I needed an anchor. Anything to keep from fainting.

A deep, guttural snarl traveled through the arena it felt as if the earth itself were vibrating against my feet.

A painful, high-pitched yelp escaped the gray wolf as the black wolf's teeth finally locked into his spine.

"What is happening?" I asked to no one in particular. I stood up, completely unable to sit still and watch the m******e continue. “What the f**k is happening? They are going to kill each other!”

I directed the question straight at Khyrix. He just sat there, a bored, vacant expression on his face. He looked like a man who had watched this exact display a thousand times before, because he had. He couldn't care less about the bleeding fighters

In fact, everyone in the stands shared that same look of boredom. The only time their faces lit up was when the flesh tore, or when one of the fighters sustained a bad injury.

Down in the pit, the gray wolf managed to roll over. His face was badly beaten, one eye swollen shut, and he was bleeding heavily from deep gashes across his back

Through the blood and mud, he looked up in our direction. He was looking up at Khyrix, at the Alpha, begging with his eyes for a single sign of approval. A nod. A dismissal. Anything to end the torment.

Khyrix didn't blink.

Around us, students whispered among themselves, casually judging the technicality of the bites and the footwork as if they were reviewing a sport match rather than watching two people break themselves apart for entertainment.

"It is just the quarter competition," Khyrix said, his voice smooth and entirely unaffected by the screaming.

I stared down at him "Every student from the regular classes who wishes to join the upper class goes through this screening process," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

My mouth dropped open. I was in absolute awe of how ridiculous he sounded.

"This is supposed to be a screening process?" I pointed a trembling finger at the arena, though I couldn't bring myself to look back at the blood-soaked dirt anymore. "They are tearing each other to pieces."

"I don't make the rules, Avelora. They have been in place since long before my time."

I clenched my fingers so hard my nails cut deep into my palms, the physical pain grounding me against the rising heat in my chest. I looked back down at the gray wolf, who was now pinned beneath the black wolf's massive paws, panting heavily, his chest heaving as he bled into the dirt. He had fought savagely. He had given everything.

Then, realization dawned on me, and my voice trembled when I spoke. "They won't let him in even if he wins." The fever in my blood spiked higher, a wave of nausea rolling through my gut. "He’s winning, he's proving he's stronger, and they still won't let him into the upper class. Will they?"

"He doesn't have the lineage," Khyrix said simply. "Strength is only half the requirement. Bloodline determines the rest."

"But he is on the verge of dying for this." I screamed over the roar of the crowd.

He didn't answer. The silence of the elite surrounding us said everything.

I couldn't be here anymore. The air felt too thick to breathe.

I stood up.

Before I could take a single step toward the exit, Khyrix’s hand shot out. His fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist, his eyes wide with a sudden flash of confusion.

"Avelora?" he called out, his grip firm but not painful.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp with every ounce of strength I had left. I didn't care about the rules, I didn't care about his status, and I didn't care who saw me. I turned my back on him and began shoving my way through the crowd, desperate to get as far away as possible from a scene that made me feel entirely worthless and helpless.