The crowd chanted my name like I was already dead.
“Nina! Nina! Nina!”
It wasn’t praise. It was a dirge, a twisted song of bloodlust echoing through the cold stone arena. They wanted a show. They wanted to see the wolf-girl turn on her own. And if I didn’t fight, I’d die.
The gates behind me clanged shut.
I didn’t look back.
I gripped the twin daggers Ryker had given me—not the Silver Thorn blades I grew up with, but forged from moon steel, humming softly against my palms. My breathing slowed. The scent of dust and blood thickened in my nose. And then the far gate creaked open.
The first opponent stepped out.
Seth.
My stomach dropped.
He had once been my training partner. Quick, lean, all sharp grins and sharper blades. We used to spar at midnight under candlelight, whispering sec
