BLOOD MOON

Chapter 19

Haliya

Cullen stopped directly in front of me. His eyes were flinty and assessing, and for one agonizing heartbeat, I was certain the grime and ragged disguise weren't enough. His stare lingered, dragging across my features as if he were peeling back layers of skin to find the girl beneath. My pulse thundered in my ears: a frantic, trapped bird.

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

His lips parted, the air catching in his throat. "You."

But the voice didn't belong to Cullen. It cut through the air from further down the line.

Jackson.

Every head snapped toward him, Cullen’s included. Jackson’s arm was raised, his finger slicing through the air to point straight at my chest.

“You. Step out,” he commanded.

My throat went bone-dry. Relief and terror warred in my gut. Cullen’s gaze had shifted, broken by his brother’s interruption, but now I was the focal point of the entire yard. I remained rooted in the dirt, my muscles locked. The recruit beside me nudged my elbow hard, whispering, “Go, before they drag you.”

I didn't know which fear to prioritize: the dread of Amara and Cullen seeing through my mask, or the looming violence of the duel. Their gazes prickled at the back of my neck like invisible blades. If they saw the lie, I’d be executed. If they didn't, Jackson might just kill me anyway.

I had watched the earlier bouts: one warrior after another tossed aside like broken dolls. None had lasted a minute against the heirs. And me? I had only trained for days, barely enough to steady my grip, let alone face a predator raised on a diet of blood and privilege.

I stepped forward. The sound of my boots scraping the dirt felt deafening. Whispers rippled through the gathered ranks like a foul wind.

“Too scrawny.” “He won’t last a second.” “Why’d Jackson pick the runt?”

I clenched my jaw, forcing my shoulders to square even as my knees threatened to buckle. My disguise kept me hidden, but it wouldn't shield me from the impact of a fist.

The circle closed around us. Jackson stepped into the center, looking unnervingly calm. Unlike the others, who had sneered or postured, Jackson gave me nothing. His eyes were cold, fixed on me with the clinical detachment of a predator studying its prey.

Before I could even find my stance, he moved.

His foot slammed into my ribs with the force of a battering ram. I didn't even feel the pain until I was airborne, crashing into the dirt. The world spun in a blur of brown and grey. I slid several feet, stopping dangerously close to where the Alpha sat. My lungs burned, refusing to take in air. I coughed, and the metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth.

What a wonderful start, I thought bitterly. One hit, and I was already tasting my own mortality.

Jackson didn't wait. He was already charging again, silent as a shadow. My body screamed, but instinct took the wheel; I rolled hard to the left. His strike hit the ground where my head had been, sending a plume of dust exploding into the air.

I scrambled up, heart hammering against my bruised ribs. I couldn't take another hit like that. I couldn't afford a single mistake.

This time, when he lunged, I was ready. I ducked a wild swing and countered; my fist cut across his jaw. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my arm, but it made him stumble for a breath.

The yard fell into a deathly silence. No jeers. No whispers. Just the sound of the wind and our ragged breathing.

I watched him as he straightened his head, reassessing me. I hadn't seen Jackson fight in real time today; the previous duels had been dominated by the aggression of Amara and Cullen. Jackson was different. He didn't waste energy on flourishes or roars.

His fist shot forward. I tilted my head, feeling the wind of it sting my cheek. He followed with a flurry of strikes: a kick, a jab, a sweep. Each one missed me by a fraction of an inch. My body burned with the effort of moving faster than I ever thought possible.

I realized then: if I try to match his strength, I’m dead.

So I stopped trying.

I ducked under a swing and rolled back, dust clinging to my sweat-slicked skin. My lungs were screaming, but I forced my mind to go quiet. I stopped looking at his fists and started looking at his pattern. He favored his right leg for power. His silence wasn't calm; it was a rhythm. Like a drumbeat: three quick strikes, a half-breath pause, then an explosive burst.

He came at me again, faster this time, his eyes narrowing as he realized I wasn't just running anymore. I was studying him.

There it was. The crack in the armor.

The moment he launched his next combination, I didn't shift back. I lunged into his space. His fist grazed my cheek, close enough to burn, but I was already moving. I hooked my right foot behind his shoulder, using his own momentum against him, and snapped my other leg against the side of his knee.

For the first time, Jackson grunted: a low, sharp sound of shock as his body buckled. He dropped to one knee.

My chest heaved, sweat stinging my eyes. I pressed the advantage, raining down a series of blows before he could recover. He shoved me off with a roar, rising with a new fire in his eyes. The silent predator was gone; the angry warrior had arrived.

His attacks turned vicious, like knives of movement meant to end me. But I had the code now. I slipped past his strikes, countering with elbows and short kicks. Each hit was minor, but they were reminders: I am still here. I am not breaking.

The fight dragged on, a deadly dance of attrition. The air grew heavy with the weight of it.

Just as Jackson coiled to deliver a final, crushing blow, a voice sliced through the tension.

“Enough.”

It wasn't loud, but it had the finality of a guillotine. Jackson’s hand froze mid-swing. Mine stayed clenched, inches from his throat.

I staggered back, my body trembling so violently I could barely stand. The Alpha’s gaze slid over me: unreadable, dark, and terrifyingly sharp.

“That is where it ends,” the Alpha declared.

Only then, as the adrenaline began to drain, did I realize I was still breathing. I had faced an heir. I had tasted blood. And somehow, against every law of this world, I had survived.