Twice Fated

Episode Five

The rogue swung again—a heavy, reckless punch aimed at her ribs.

Selina twisted out of the way.

His fist slammed into the ground instead, sending up a small cloud of dust. He was strong but slow. He relied too much on brute force.

Selina exhaled sharply.

Speed. That was her advantage.

She moved before he could fully recover, darting to his side and landing a sharp kick to his knee. His leg buckled slightly, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he snarled and threw another punch.

This time, she wasn’t fast enough.

Pain exploded in her side.

She gasped as his fist crashed against her ribs, sending her stumbling backward. The impact was like being hit with a sledgehammer. The crowd cheered, expecting her to fall.

But she didn’t.

She gritted her teeth against the pain and steadied herself. She had taken worse hits before.

The rogue looked surprised. “Still standing?”

Selina rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t overpower him. But she could outthink him.

She needed a strategy.

****

A sharp grunt escaped the rogue’s lips as the impact forced him to stumble sideways. He wasn’t expecting her to hit back—not like this.

The crowd went silent for a beat. Then, murmurs of surprise rippled through them.

Selina didn’t let up.

Before he could fully regain his footing, she moved again—fast, fluid, relentless.

She darted behind him, using her smaller frame to her advantage. As he turned, she leaped, wrapping her arm around his thick neck in a chokehold.

The rogue snarled and thrashed, trying to shake her off. His fingers clawed at her grip, but she held on.

She could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath her arm, his body twisting violently in an attempt to throw her off.

“Get off me, you little—”

Selina didn’t let him finish.

She tightened her hold, pressing her forearm against his windpipe.

The rogue stumbled, his strength working against him. He wasn’t used to someone fighting smart. He was used to overpowering, crushing, winning without effort.

Selina felt the shift in his body—the moment his resistance turned into panic.

He was losing.

His movements became erratic, weaker.

And then—he dropped to one knee.

Selina took her chance. She twisted sharply, using the momentum to slam his massive frame onto the ground.

A loud thud. A gasp from the watching rogues.

She straddled his chest, pinning him down, her palm pressing against his throat. Not enough to kill—but enough to show she could.

The rogue’s chest heaved beneath her, his eyes wide, his pride shattered.

Selina leaned down, her voice calm but dangerous.

“Still think I don’t belong here?”

Silence.

Then—Roman’s voice, cool and approving.

“Enough.”

Selina hesitated for a second, then released the rogue and stepped back.

The fight was over.

She had won.

A thrill ran through her—not just from victory, but from realization.

She was no longer the weak omega they had all seen before.

And now, they knew it too.

****

The tension in the air was thick as Selina stepped away from her fallen opponent. The rogue coughed, rubbing his throat, his pride clearly more wounded than his body. The watching rogues murmured among themselves, some still in shock, others with newfound interest in the girl they had dismissed as weak.

Selina felt their stares—but this time, they weren’t filled with mockery or disdain.

She wasn’t just an omega anymore. She had proven something tonight.

Roman stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. His golden eyes locked onto her, unreadable.

Then—he smirked.

“Not bad,” he said, his deep voice carrying through the clearing. “For someone who was running scared not too long ago.”

A few rogues chuckled, but it wasn’t the same cruel laughter from before. It was different.

Selina straightened, still catching her breath, but refusing to look weak in front of them.

“I’m not running anymore,” she said firmly.

Roman’s smirk widened slightly. “Good. Then let’s see if you can keep up.”

He turned and walked away, clearly expecting her to follow.

Selina hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, ignoring the lingering pain in her ribs. She had won the fight—but she knew this was only the beginning.

****

The fire crackled softly in the center of the rogue camp, casting flickering shadows across the gathered wolves. The night air was cool against Selina’s skin, but the adrenaline still thrumming through her veins kept her warm.

She sat near the edge of the clearing, her back against a fallen log, listening to the low murmurs of the pack around her. For the first time since she had arrived, no one was telling her to leave. No one was calling her weak.

Her fingers traced the bruises forming along her arms, a dull ache settling into her muscles. She had won the fight, but her body reminded her of how much more she had to learn.

Across the fire, Roman sat watching her. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp golden eyes never truly softened. He studied her as if he was still assessing, still deciding something.

“Get some rest,” he finally said, his voice carrying just enough authority to make it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.

Selina met his gaze, her jaw tightening slightly. She wasn’t used to being ordered around—not anymore. But she didn’t argue.

She simply nodded and stood, stretching her sore limbs before slipping away toward the shelter she had been given.

As she lay down on the rough bedding, staring up at the stars through a gap in the canvas, a thought settled deep in her chest.

She was no longer an outcast.

She was no longer just an omega.

And soon, they would all know it.

The aches in her muscles throbbed with every breath, a sharp reminder of the battle she had fought tonight—not just against the rogue, but against the image of weakness the world had forced upon her. She had been bruised, battered, humiliated in the past. But tonight, for the first time, she had fought back. And she had won.

A cool breeze drifted through the tent, carrying the scents of pine, damp earth, and distant firewood. The sounds of the camp—murmured conversations, the occasional howl in the distance—faded into the background as exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy cloak.

Her eyelids grew heavier, but her mind still buzzed. She thought of Zane. Of his disgust when he rejected her. Of the bond that should have made them inseparable, now shattered beyond repair. A dull ache twisted in her chest, but it wasn’t just grief anymore. It was something sharper.

Determination.

She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t broken.

She would prove it—to Zane, to Roman, to the rogues, to everyone.

And one day, when she stood tall, unshaken and unstoppable, those who had doubted her would have no choice but to see her for what she truly was.

With that final thought, her tired body gave in to sleep.