Aveline
They dressed me in black.
Not satin or lace or anything ceremonial—no, this was armor. A fitted combat suit made of thick leather, reinforced with steel at the shoulders and joints. As if that alone could protect me from what was coming. My boots were heavy, my fists wrapped in gauze. My hair was tied back tightly, braided so nothing could obscure my vision.
I was already sweating before I stepped into the arena.
The courtyard had been cleared and converted into a trial ground. Raised platforms lined the walls where the council sat in their high-backed chairs, watching with the same sharpness as vultures circling their prey. Pack members filled the outer balconies, murmuring among themselves, hungry for blood or scandal—preferably both.
And Matteo… he stood at the far edge of
