Upon arriving at the Pack House, I was stunned into almost silence when hit with the scene before me.

The outskirts of the building, and leading to the outdoor training arena, were filled with pack members, which given the early hour wasn't  particularly unusual.

But it was the feeling that was different.

I didn't have werewolves senses, but even an idiot could tell the place was buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

Clearly, word had got around that the hybrid who'd been living with their Alpha, and training under Harlow, was going toe to toe with a male werewolf.

Apparently, it seemed I was somewhat of an enigma, although I failed to see why.

They wanted a show.

After mulling on the idea overnight, I'd actually become quite excited. Although still nervous, I trusted that Phelan wouldn't put me in a situation that risked my safety too much.

Could I actually hold my own against a werewolf?

Since training with Harlow, her fists and shins had made contact with me many times, as mine did with her. My body was stronger. I was stronger.

And I'd grown hooked to the adrenaline and endorphin rush that came with the contact.

But I felt that what Phelan saw in me was pure
chance, a fluke, and that he was making it out to be something it wasn't. I was no heroine. I was no fighter. I was Edie, true crime documentary enthusiast and chocolate addict.

Sure, I could bust some moves on the dance floor, but this was more than a little stretch...

Walking beside Phelan, I felt so small. He squeezed my hand in reassurance as we passed bystanders, standing bold and assertive, like he hadn't a care in the world.

He exuded a dominance around the pack that I hadn't witnessed to such an extent before as most of my time with him was alone or with Sophia and Gunner.

People offered a slight head tilt as a show of respect, eyeing us both as we walked through the main area. And whilst I'd expected heckles or expressions of doubt, it seemed that they were eyeing me with optimistic caution.

Most of them anyway.

Phelan was, like always, rather pragmatic in his explanation.

"They want to see what their future Luna is made of."

"What's that? Stand up comedy?" I chided.

He rolled his eyes.

"Come. Let's go see Harlow and wrap up your hands."

As we walked side by side to a change room, we passed Wyatt who was joking around with some friends.

When he noticed us walking towards him, he eyed me up and down, smirking as he did so. Hushed whispers descended amongst his small group of friends, who were clearly uneasy with the interaction before nodding their heads respectfully to Phelan.

The nerve. His attitude rubbed me the wrong way, Phelan having to guide me away as if sensing I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.

"What the fuck did I do to warrant that greeting?"

"He underestimates you. That's his first mistake. His second mistake is that he will be fighting with emotion... his ego is still bruised from your inadvertent rejection."

"Oh great, so he had an axe to grind. Are you sure he isn't going to play dirty?"

Harlow peered from around the corner, before shutting the door of the change room behind us.

"It's against the rule. No shifting is allowed. If he does, he will be punished. Doesn't mean he won't antagonise you though..." she trailed as she wrapped my hands.

"I feel like I'm in the UFC." I giggled.

Her eyes never left my hands, winding the fabric around them firmly.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

I'd forgotten they were isolated from a lot of human culture and interests.

"I guess it's like this, but for pussies." I winked.

"If you can put into action what we've learned, you'll kick his ass. He is a sleazy shit for brains, you're our destined Luna, it's a no brainer."

As she left me alone with Phelan, I held onto him tightly.

"Do you actually believe I can do this?"

He stroked my hair as he held me close, his lips grazing my forehead as he whispered.

"Absolutely."

And with that, he led me out to the field.

***

I'd sparred outside with Harlow on numerous occasions, so felt at ease when we made our way through to the grassed stadium.

By stadium, it was really more of a field with some bench seating. But nonetheless it felt like a stadium with the whole pack surrounding it.

It was buzzing.

There was no denying the atmosphere was electric.

I could hear people whispering.

"Do you really think she is going to be our Luna?"

"It's impossible for a female hybrid to beat a male, she isn't even a werewolf."

"She isn't one of us. It's an insult to our ways."

"Why would the Alpha allow this? It's cruel for the poor woman." 

"I think she will smash him."

It appeared the pack was divided as they sized each of us up.

Harlow motioned for me to stand with her as Phelan walked over to address the crowd.

"As you are aware, Edith Cohen is challenging Wyatt Miller as pack law dictates. Both fighters must maintain their human form, and the winner will be declared after submission by the other."

Watching Sophia, she pushed her way through the crowd to greet me. Hugging me tightly, she looked like a proud big sister.

Trailing my long raven braid with her hand, she smiled proudly. "You look stunning, like a Luna. Our Luna."

"You guys are are taking this way too seriously, it's just an exhibition, like a grading," I huffed.

Sophia pursed her lips, her words trailing of as if musing in some far away land.

"Maybe to you, but to us..."

Nudging me cheek to cheek, Sophia winked before leaving me on my own.

Looking to my right, Harlow appeared ever the statuesque beauty, calm and coolness, no trace of emotion on her face.

Next, my eyes moved to Phelan, who was standing in the centre of the crowd, Gunner to his side.

I was struck by the difference. Gunner had pulled his cap over his eyes, his head in his hands as he leant on his knees.

Thanks for the vote of confidence buddy.

But Phelan. His eyes were narrowed... focussed, before a sharp nod with the slightest of reassuring smiles indicated to me that it was time to enter the arena.

Everything fell silent.

I swore I could feel my heart beat. A million miles an hour no less.

Acting on autopilot, my boots squelched in the well-trodden soil before I weaved under the timber fence to enter the other side.

"Don't trip hybrid."

Wyatt.

Looking up, his face was etched in an ugly sneer.

"Wow. You don't take rejection well, do you?" I huffed. I rolled my eyes in annoyance before I continued, "let's get this over with..."

Dusting my hands on my pants, I barged straight past him to the center of the field.

There I stood.

Waiting.

And then staring from my peripheral, I saw Wyatt edge to my left before he locked eyes with me.

There was no way I was going to lower my gaze to that jerk.

I couldn't even submit my Math assignments in College, so there was no chance I'd submit to him.

It was clear he was taking this seriously. This was not going to be a play fight for him. This was unfinished business.

I watched as he bowed to me in faux sincerity. Slow, deliberate and pain-stakingly exaggerated.

His audacity enraged me. I felt the hairs on my arms stand on edge. But I knew that his actions were designed to make me unsteady. Make me angry. Uncontrolled.

I would not have it.

Instead, I nodded my head slightly, not once removing my eyes from his.

Bring it fucker.

And before I knew it, I drew my hands to my face like so many times before. Softening my knees, I kept my feet light as I watched his form as we slowly and cautiously tested each other.

Harlow's voice was in my mind, her coaching on repeat. 'Let him jab first, he will drop his left guard and then you make your move. Be patient.'

The first blow skimmed past my cheek, a enormous, muscular arm pushing a wave of air past my face before another connected with my jaw that I was not expecting.

The taste of blood in my mouth was the only indication that he'd landed a hit. The adrenaline ensuring I felt nothing else.

Fuck.

Dazed, I quickly shook it off, shaking my shoulders and throwing my braid back behind me.

He was bigger than me. Stronger than me. But in human form at least... he wasn't faster. He wasn't fitter. 

Brute strength alone couldn't compare.

I needed to grind him down.

And for some weird reason I couldn't explain, the force of the his initial impact only fuelled me further.

A stirring whirled within me as my body took on a life of its own. A quest for dominance took control, my mind razor focussed as I stalked him down.

Each step... each kick, more methodical than the last.

Slowly... slowly... I was going to wear him out.

As we got lost in our war dance, his moves although synchronous, were transparent. I was able to evade most.

And although each contact I landed on him lacked strength, it was wearing him down.

He wasn't fit enough to out last me.

But it was time to turn it up.

I'd had a lifetime of bottled up resentment and anger I wanted to unleash, and unfortunately for Wyatt, he was going to bear the brunt of it.