BLOOD MOON

Chapter 19

Haliya

Cullen stopped right in front of me. His eyes were sharp, assessing, and for one awful heartbeat, I thought the dirt and ragged disguise weren’t enough. His stare lingered too long, dragging across my face like he was peeling away layers. My pulse thundered in my ears.

If he called my name... if he recognized me... it was over.

His lips parted.

“—You.”

But the word didn’t come from Cullen. It came from further down the line.

Jackson.

Every head turned toward him, including Cullen’s. Jackson’s arm was raised, his finger pointed straight at me.

“You. Step out,” he ordered.

My throat went dry. Relief and terror warred inside me. Cullen’s gaze had shifted, distracted by his brother’s interruption, but now every eye was on me anyway.

For a moment, I didn’t move, my legs rooted in the dirt. The recruit beside me nudged my elbow hard, whispering, “Go, before they drag you.”

I don’t know what else to fear first... getting busted by Amara and Cullen, or this duel. Their gazes prickled at the back of my neck, sharp as blades. If they saw through me, my disguise, my lie, it would all end here.

But the other fear loomed larger. The duel.

I had watched it unfold already, one warrior after another tossed aside like broken dolls. None of them had lasted against the heirs. Not one. And me? I had only trained for days, barely enough to steady my grip, let alone face heirs raised in blood, strength, and privilege.

My throat tightened. All I wanted was to survive this—if not win, then at least survive.

I stepped forward slowly, boots scraping against the dirt. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the invisible pull of every eye locked on me. Whispers rose among the gathered warriors.

“Too scrawny.”

“Won’t last a second.”

“Why’d Jackson pick that one?”

I clenched my jaw and forced my shoulders to square, even though my knees threatened to give way. My disguise might keep me hidden from recognition, but it would not shield me from their doubt.

The circle closed around us, and Jackson stepped forward. He looked calm... too calm. His silence was unnerving with an unreasonable expression. Unlike the others, who had jeered or smirked at their opponents, Jackson gave me nothing. Just a pair of cold eyes fixed on me like a predator studying prey.

Before I could even brace myself, he moved.

His foot slammed into my ribs with such force I barely registered it until I was airborne, crashing across the dirt. The world spun, pain seared through my side, and I slid dangerously close to where the Alpha sat, watching in silence. My lungs burned. I coughed, and the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.

What a wonderful start!

I thought I might die right there. One kick. That was all it took.

Jackson didn’t wait. He was already charging again, silent as a shadow, his speed terrifying. My body screamed in protest, but instinct forced me to roll away. His strike hit the ground where I’d been seconds ago, dust exploding into the air.

I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, every nerve on edge now. I couldn’t take another hit like that. I couldn’t afford to be careless.

This time, when he came at me, I was ready. I dodged left, narrowly missing the sweep of his arm, and countered with a strike of my own, my fist cutting across his jaw. The impact stung, but it made him stumble for a breath.

The duel fell into silence. Not a shout, not a jeer, not even a whisper. Everyone was watching with eyes sharp and unblinking.

My chest rose and fell as I steadied myself, blood still on my tongue and pain still radiating from my ribs. Jackson straightened slowly, his head tilting just slightly, as if reassessing me.

I hadn’t seen him fight in real time until now. The earlier duels were all Amara, Cullen, or Samuel, so I didn’t know Jackson’s style. But now, I know. He fight differently and didn’t waste energy.

His fist shot forward, and I barely tilted my head aside before it cracked past my jaw. The wind of it stung my cheek. He followed instantly with a kick, then another, a flurry of strikes that I avoided by the barest inches, my body burning with the effort of moving faster than I ever had.

If I tried to match him in raw strength, I’d already be dead.

So I didn’t.

I ducked under his swing, rolling back, dust clinging to my sweaty skin. My lungs were screaming, but I forced myself to focus not on attacking, but on watching. Every step he made, every angle he took. He favored his right leg for power. His silence wasn’t calmness; it was control. His rhythm was like a drumbeat... three quick strikes, then a pause, then another explosive burst.

He came again, and I narrowly avoided his knee aiming for my ribs. The pain from earlier throbbed, reminding me that one more clean hit could end this fight. But in that instant, I began to see it, his pattern in fighting. His silence wasn’t perfect. It had a cadence.

I couldn’t fight him at his strength. He's stronger than me, that's something I can't deny. But if I kept dodging, kept drawing him out, sooner or later… I’d find the crack in his armor.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he lunged again, faster, harder, as though he realized I wasn’t just running anymore.

I was studying him.

And then I saw it. That brief pause between his combinations, that half-breath where his rhythm staggered just enough. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

The moment he launched forward, I shifted, not back this time, but into him. His fist grazed past my cheek, close enough to burn. I hooked my right foot hard against his shoulder, twisting with the momentum, and with all the force I could muster, my other leg snapped against the side of his knee.

For the first time, I heard him grunt, low and sharp as his body buckled, forced to kneel.

My chest heaved, sweat blinding my eyes, but I pressed forward, raining what blows I could before he shoved me off, rising with a new fire burning in his eyes. The silent calm he had carried was gone. Now, he was angry.

His attacks came faster, sharper, like knives meant to cut me open. But I had already cracked the code of his rhythm. I slipped past his strikes, my body screaming at every dodge, countering when I could, an elbow here, a kick there, a fist that landed against his ribs. Each hit barely made a dent, but they reminded him I wasn’t breaking as easily as the others.

The fight dragged on, a deadly back-and-forth, neither of us yielding. The world around us had gone silent, every warrior’s eyes locked on the duel, the air heavy with the weight of it.

And then, just as Jackson drew in to strike again, a voice cut through the tension.

“Enough.”

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The Alpha’s voice carried with a finality that froze us both where we stood. Jackson’s hand stopped mid-swing, mine still clenched, ready to strike back.

I staggered a step with a ragged breath, my body trembling from the effort of holding myself upright.

The Alpha’s gaze slid over me, unreadable, his expression giving nothing away. “That is where it ends.”

Only then did I realize my entire body was shaking not just from exhaustion, but from the fact that I had survived. I survived.