Gianna's first punch broke my nose.
Blood exploded across my face, hot and copper-bright, filling my mouth with the taste of my own mortality. The crowd roared—six hundred wolves packed into the combat arena, their voices rising like a living thing. I staggered backward, vision swimming, and Gianna was already moving again.
She didn't apologize.
She didn't hesitate.
She hit me like she meant it, because she did.
This was the Trial of Blood, and we both knew the rules: fight until one of us submitted or couldn't continue. No quarter. No mercy. No way out except through.
I raised my hands and tried to remember everything Dmitri had taught me.
It wasn't enough.
We'd talked about this the night before.
Gianna had come to my quarters after midnight, her face troubled, her movements res
