Vanishing Wound
1027 Words
I stood there, frozen, my brain scrambling to process what had just happened.
I won.
I actually won.
A bubbling laugh escaped me, too sudden to stop, and before I could think better of it, I leaped into the air—pure joy surging through me.
Instant regret.
Pain exploded across my body, reminding me that excitement was not a cure for deep scratches and exhaustion. My feet hit the ground, and I winced sharply, gripping my side as reality caught up with me.
But none of that mattered—not right now. I did it.
Across the arena, Georgia was seething. Her body trembled with unspent rage as she was loaded onto the pack hospital trolley, her injuries forcing her defeat into something unavoidable. But of course, Georgia being Georgia, she couldn’t lose quietly.
She thrashed against the medics, voice venomous as it echoed across the pit:
"CHEATER! YOU f*****g CHEATER! Mark my words, Kat Torres—I will NOT let this go!"
Now, a normal person—an intelligent person—would have just let it go.
But apparently, I am neither of those things.
Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe I was just naturally stupid. But before I could even stop myself, my idiotic response to Georgia was:
"I’m just glad you finally know my actual name."
A beat of silence.
Then, scattered laughter broke through the crowd—a handful of giggles, a few amused snorts.
Not everyone was laughing, though.
I could see it—some of them weren’t dismissing Georgia’s accusations as sore-loser nonsense. Some were soaking in her words, watching me, calculating whether they should believe the wolf who had just lost control in the arena.
I exhaled slowly, the thrill of my win dulled by the reality of pack politics.
I should have been celebrating. I should have been basking in victory, in the satisfaction of knowing I had defeated Georgia fair and square.
But no.
Instead, Georgia’s shadow still loomed over me, refusing to let me fully claim the moment.
I sighed. Fine. Let them doubt me. Let them whisper.
Alpha Jack approached, his expression softer than usual—less like an Alpha judging warriors and more like a leader seeing something unexpectedly remarkable before him.
“Well done, Miss Torres,” he said, his voice steady, carrying true weight behind the words. “You should be proud. I don’t think we’ve ever had a wolfless omega win the warrior trials before. That is a true testament to your resilience, to your intelligence, to the kind of warrior you are. And the kind of warrior you will become.”
Something in my chest tightened—not with pain, but with something else. Recognition.
“I am proud to have you as part of this pack,” he added, sincerity laced in every syllable. “And before you bleed all over my combat pit—go. Get checked out.”
I nodded, swallowing the knot rising in my throat as I limped away, my body aching but my mind still reeling.
“Oh, and Kat?”
I turned back, raising a tired brow. “Yes, Alpha?”
His lips pulled into something halfway between amusement and caution, his gaze flickering briefly toward Georgia’s retreating form before settling back on me.
“Maybe just stay away from Georgia. I don’t think the nurses would appreciate a rematch happening on hospital grounds,” he said, a knowing glint in his eyes before he gave me a quick wink.
I laughed softly, shaking my head, finally allowing the moment to sink in.
I had won.
For the first time, without doubt, without hesitation—I let myself enjoy it.
As I turned, stepping toward the edge of the arena, I murmured a quiet thank you—not just for the praise, but for allowing me this moment.
Alpha Jack understood. And that was enough.
The pack hospital was alive with movement—nurses weaving between rows of injured warriors, voices hushed but urgent, the scent of antiseptic and blood thick in the air. Some fighters were being patched up, others barely conscious from their battles. The trials had taken their toll, and it showed.
As I stepped inside, my gaze flickered over the wounded, scanning the aftermath of combat. Then I saw her.
Georgia.
She lay on one of the beds, her body tense with pain, a deep scowl carved into her face. She refused to look at anyone, jaw clenched, fists balled at her sides. Even in agony, she radiated pure resentment, refusing to acknowledge her own defeat.
I couldn't say I felt sorry for her—not after everything—but something about seeing her like this, vulnerable and completely out of control, made the victory feel... heavier.
A movement caught my attention.
One of the nurses had stopped in front of me. Nurse Kallie.
I recognized her—once an omega, now a respected healer in the pack, proving that strength wasn’t just found in battle but in knowledge, care, and precision.
"You alright, love?" she asked kindly, her voice steady despite the storm of chaos around her.
I offered a weak smile. "I probably just need a few stitches from my battle. Could you help me?"
She looked me over, a keen eye assessing the damage.
Then—her brows furrowed.
"I'm afraid to say, you're out of luck, dear. Without any wounds, stitches are useless."
She turned to tend to another patient, leaving me standing there, completely stunned.
I looked down at myself, expecting to see torn skin, dried blood—something.
But there was nothing.
No wound. No scar.
Just unbroken skin where Eryth’s claws had ripped through me.
My heart lurched, confusion creeping in like ice through my veins.
This wasn’t normal.
I was wolfless, which meant I had the healing ability of a human—slow, fragile, vulnerable. Even a papercut used to require a plaster.
But now? A massive wolf scratch vanished into thin air.
Something was happening.
Something I didn’t understand.
And suddenly, the triumph of my victory wasn’t the only thing racing through my mind.
What did this mean for me?
- Writer
