The Alpha's Reluctant Mate

Chapter 7-This Ends Now

Elara’s POV

My back slammed into the earth. Pain exploded through my spine. The air punched out of my lungs in a sharp gasp. Dirt and cold seeped through my clothes as I lay there for a split second, stunned, staring up at the sky.

The crowd’s silence broke into murmurs.

I rolled sideways fast, trying to push up, but my body felt heavy, sluggish. My wrist throbbed where I’d wrapped it earlier. Every breath hurt. Thorne stood over me, not even breathing hard, his shadow swallowing me whole. That faint twitch at the corner of his mouth was back—like this whole thing amused him.

‘Get up,’ I screamed at myself. ‘Get up right now.’

My arms shook as I forced myself onto one knee. The world spun a little. I tasted blood on my lip—I must have bitten it during the fall. My pack watched in horror. Emma had her hands over her mouth like she might scream. My father looked destroyed.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

I lunged up from the ground, ignoring the screaming pain in my back, and threw a wild punch at his ribs. He caught my wrist mid-swing, twisting just enough to make me hiss. With his other hand he shoved me back—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to send me stumbling.

I caught my balance, chest heaving, hair sticking to my sweaty face. My legs felt like they might give out any second, but I locked my knees and raised my fists again. The cloth around my wrist had loosened. Blood trickled from a small cut on my knuckle.

Thorne finally spoke, his voice low and rough, carrying across the dead-silent clearing. “You’re stubborn. I’ll give you that.”

The words shouldn’t have affected me, but they did. They dug under my skin and burned. I hated how calm he sounded. How in control. How every move he made reminded me exactly who I was fighting.

I charged again, screaming through the exhaustion. My fist grazed his shoulder this time. Close. So close. I followed with a sharp kick to his knee. He shifted, and my boot only glanced off. I spun immediately, elbow flying toward his jaw.

He grabbed me by the front of my shirt, lifted me clean off the ground for one terrifying second, and slammed me back down. Not full force, but enough that the impact rattled my bones. I hit the dirt hard on my side, coughing.

Pain flared everywhere. My vision blurred for a moment. I tasted more blood.

‘Get up. Get up. Get up.’

The whispers from his men grew louder.

“She’s got spirit.”

“Spirit won’t save her.”

“Alpha’s playing with his food.”

I pushed myself up again, slower this time. My arms trembled. My legs felt like lead. Sweat poured down my back, mixing with the damp from the ground. But I looked him dead in the eyes and spat blood to the side.

“I’m not done,” I growled.

Thorne tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some strange creature he’d never seen before. For the first time, something shifted in those silver eyes. Not amusement exactly. Something darker. Deeper.

He came at me then. Not full speed—I could tell he was still holding back—but faster than before. His fist flew. I barely blocked it, the force vibrating through my arm. Another strike. I ducked. A kick. I jumped back, barely escaping.

We traded blows in a blur. My hits were getting weaker, sloppier. His were precise, controlled, each one pushing me closer to the edge. I tried another knee strike. He blocked it easily and drove his shoulder into mine, knocking me off balance.

I stumbled. He pressed the advantage, sweeping my legs again.

This time I couldn’t catch myself.

I crashed down hard, rolling once before stopping flat on my back. The sky spun above me. My chest rose and fell in desperate gasps. Every part of me screamed in pain. My vision kept fading in and out at the edges.

I heard footsteps. Heavy. Calm.

Thorne stopped beside me. I turned my head slowly, glaring up at him even as my body begged me to stay down. His face was unreadable, but those eyes… they saw everything. My exhaustion. My anger. My fear that I’d tried so hard to bury.

The crowd was completely silent again. Waiting.

I tried to push up on my elbows. My arms gave out halfway. A weak sound escaped my throat—half frustration, half pain.

Thorne crouched down, one knee in the dirt next to me. Close. Too close. His scent wrapped around me again, thick and overwhelming. He reached out and gripped my chin with surprising gentleness, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You fought well,” he said quietly, so only I could hear. “But this ends now.”