Chapter 5
May 15, 2025
Rowan had underestimated Ace Ravelwood. He leaned forward in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily against the armrest. His piercing eyes locked onto Ace Ravelwood, who had just defied expectations.
The cheers from the crowd had barely died down when his Beta, Kane, shifted beside him and leaned in. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Rowan smirked but didn’t look away from Ace. “Of course.”
Kane exhaled sharply. “This one’s different, Alpha. We both know it. He’s not like the others.”
Rowan turned slightly, meeting his Beta’s gaze. “That’s why we need to test him further.”
Before Kane could argue, Rowan lifted a hand and signaled to the guards. The heavy creak of a third iron gate opening sent a ripple of tension through the arena.
Then a deep, guttural roar shook the ground beneath them.
Gasps filled the stands as people instinctively recoiled. The crowd, which had been howling with excitement just moments ago, suddenly fell silent. Even the most hardened warriors tensed as the beast stepped forward.
A lion.
But not just any lion.
A monstrous, battle-scarred beast, its golden mane thick and wild, its eyes burning with untamed fury. It had been caged for months, starved of freedom, its instincts sharpened by desperation. And now, it had one clear target—Ace.
Ace’s body stiffened. Her feet shifted slightly, a nearly imperceptible movement, but Rowan caught it.
Fear. Good. She turned her head toward him, locking eyes with him from across the field.
Rowan smirked. Ace clenched her jaw and turned back to the lion.
Kane wasn’t convinced. He leaned in again, his voice lower this time. “Alpha Rowan, do you really think keeping the Alpha’s son alive is wise? Someone this strong?”
Rowan exhaled slowly, watching Ace’s every move. “He might not be strong enough to kill a lion.”
“And if he does?” Kane pressed, brows furrowed.
Rowan folded his arms, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Then he’s worth keeping.”
Kane’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing more. He knew better than to argue when Rowan had made up his mind.
Ace, meanwhile, took slow, careful steps backward, her mind clearly calculating her next move. The lion’s golden eyes locked onto her, tail swishing, muscles coiling with tension.
Then, without warning, Ace moved.
She sprinted to the right—then sharply pivoted left.
The lion’s head snapped in the wrong direction for a split second.
Rowan’s brows lifted.
Clever.
Ace repeated the move, feinting to one side only to switch directions at the last moment. The lion snarled in frustration, its heavy paws kicking up dust as it adjusted, trying to keep up.
She’s playing with it.
The realization struck Rowan at the same time Kane muttered under his breath, “What is he doing?”
Rowan sat up straighter. “He’s making it work for the kill.”
The lion roared again, but this time, its movements weren’t as sharp. It was growing impatient. Its instincts screamed at it to attack. And that was exactly what Ace wanted.
The lion lunged.
Ace didn’t run.
She didn’t flinch.
She stood firm.
And just as the beast launched itself into the air—massive paws extended, jaws wide, claws ready to tear flesh, Ace dropped to one knee. Her sword angled upward. The lion had no way to stop its own momentum.
The steel blade sank deep into its belly.
A piercing, agonized roar filled the air as the beast crashed onto the ground, its own weight dragging the sword deeper. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the sand beneath it.
Ace exhaled slowly, standing, her sword still buried in the beast’s stomach.
Rowan’s heart jolted.
The arena was dead silent, save for the lion’s labored breaths. It writhed weakly, struggling against the inevitable.
Then, with a calmness that sent chills down Rowan’s spine, Ace raised her sword again.
And with a single, decisive stroke, the lion was dead.
For a moment, there was nothing. No movement. No sound. Just the weight of what had just happened settling over the crowd.
Then pandemonium.
The stands erupted into chaos. Some cheered wildly. Others stared in stunned silence. A few exchanged nervous glances, as if suddenly realizing that the man standing in the center of the battlefield was far more dangerous than they had assumed.
Kane released a slow breath, shaking his head. “I’ll admit it,” he murmured. “He’s good.”
Rowan’s eyes never left Ace, who stood firm, unscathed but breathing heavily.
“Not just good,” Kane added after a pause. “He’s well trained.”
Rowan turned to him sharply. “What do you mean?”
Kane gestured toward the dead lion. “He didn’t just kill it. He exhausted it first. Made it waste energy chasing him, then struck when it was too slow to react.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. He snapped his head back toward Ace, eyes narrowing.
A twenty-year-old warrior.
Too skilled. Too controlled. Too dangerous. And then, something stirred inside him.
His wolf.
