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A hush fell over the arena, tense and expectant, as if the crowd instinctively understood the stakes had just risen. The air felt heavier, every gaze pinned on Commander Malakai as he announced.

"Now entering the arena, the Supreme Alpha of the West, Henry Nightshade!"

A polite applause followed as Henry stepped out, shirtless, and clad only in dark trousers, every ripple of muscle on display. His body was a portrait of power, shaped by years of ruthless training.

Henry was undeniably a handsome man, and perhaps he would have been even more so if he ever cracked a smile. Not that it mattered to Violet. No matter how polished the outside was, his soul was pitch black, and corrupted beyond redemption.

She tore her gaze away in disgust, already nauseous, and turned toward the entrance as Malakai’s voice lifted again.

"And facing him is the unpredictable and undefeated puppet master, Asher Nightshade!"

A deafening roar went up from the students. Violet’s heart thudded as Asher stepped into the arena, shirtless like his father, his black loose pants riding low on his hips. He looked every bit the embodiment of dark, dangerous allure.

While the screams of female fans rang out across the arena, wild and frenzied, Violet barely registered them.

Her gaze was glued to Asher, and dread curled in her stomach.

This wasn’t her Asher. His face was hard and empty, his eyes like steel.

Distant and ruthless. He had become the cold, deadly version of himself she had once feared.

Violet’s stomach twisted painfully. She didn’t like this match. She didn’t trust Henry. And worst of all, she didn’t trust Asher to stop himself. Both of them were psychos in their own ways.

Father and son stood face to face, the air between them crackling with tension. Neither of them moved a muscle. Neither said a word. They stood like twin statues, carved from ice and stone, both masters of control.

Then, just before Commander Malakai could raise his hand to start, Henry said aloud, his voice dripping with contempt.

"I know you’ve all been impressed by the matches today," Henry sneered, eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on Asher. "But what you have seen so far is child’s play. So prepare yourselves and let the West Pack show you what a real fight looks like."

Uneasy murmurs spread across the stands, the tension doubling, and Violet’s heart pounded in her chest.

"Now I see why that boy turned out the way he is," Nancy muttered beside her, eyes narrowed in disgust.

If even Nancy, who had never met Henry before, could sense the darkness in him, that said it all.

Across the arena, Irene cupped her hands around her mouth and called out mockingly, "All that talk, Henry. Are you gonna fight or keep running your mouth?"

Henry’s eyes snapped to her, murderous fury flashing in his glare. If looks could kill, Irene would have been reduced to ash. But she just laughed, popping a pink bubble of gum with a loud snap, completely unfazed.

Henry turned away with a growl, locking eyes with Malakai. "Start the match."

Malakai hesitated, casting a worried glance at Asher. Something was off, and everyone knew it. This wasn’t going to be a drill but a fight to the bone.

But Asher simply brought his fists up, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with icy determination. "Start the match," he growled.

Malakai barely signaled the start of the match when Henry struck first, slamming his fist into Asher’s face with brutal force.

Blood spattered from Asher’s lips, but he barely flinched.

Instead, he responded with a vicious uppercut that cracked against Henry’s jaw, sending the older man stumbling back a few steps.

Henry spat blood onto the mat, a tooth dislodging with it. He smirked, eyes wild with bloodlust. "Good," he growled, licking his lips. "Bring it on."

Asher’s eyes flashed dangerously.

They collided, fists swinging, bodies crashing together with brute force. Every punch landed like a thunderclap, every block cracked like breaking bones. It was savage, raw, and unrelenting. There was no finesse, no mercy. Just two alphas tearing into each other with everything they had.

"I don’t like this," Daisy whispered, her voice tight with fear. She glanced at Violet, who was gripping her seat so hard her knuckles had turned white, her eyes wide and locked on the fight.

Violet could barely breathe. The brutality was unlike anything they had seen today, and while the werewolves in the audience were used to such violence, the human parents were visibly shaken, some rising from their seats, deciding they had seen enough.

Even without the use of his power, Asher and Henry were equally matched, their bodies slick with sweat and streaked with blood. They knew each other’s every move—Henry had trained Asher, and Asher had studied his father’s fighting style like his life depended on it.

Henry was stronger, seasoned by age and experience. But Asher was faster, and driven by pure defiance. He tackled his father to the ground, straddled him, and began to punch hard and fast, each blow landing with a sickening crunch.

The murmurs rose to frantic levels now. This wasn’t entertainment anymore; it was a grudge match, dangerous, savage, and unstoppable. No one so much as twitched toward the arena. Interrupting two alphas locked in blood feud was suicide, especially with these two, each determined to crush the other

Henry shoved Asher off, and both of them rolled to their feet at the same time, crouched low, eyes locked, breathing hard. Bloodied and bruised, neither showed any sign of backing down.

Then Henry’s eyes flicked toward Violet, and something cold and vile twisted his lips into a smirk.

"She’s pretty," he drawled, loud enough for Asher to hear. His eyes glittered with dark promise. "I wonder what she’ll feel like beneath me, screaming while I fuck her silly."

Asher’s eyes snapped to Henry, his vision going red with fury. He knew the tactic well. It was Henry’s own lesson from years ago : "Exploit your enemy’s weakness." Violet was his weakness, and Henry knew exactly how to use her.

The rage was too much to control.

Asher lunged with a roar, wild and reckless, throwing all caution aside. But Henry pivoted smoothly, seizing the moment, and in a ruthless blur of motion, he twisted behind Asher, locking his arms.

"Got you," Henry hissed, his breath hot and vicious against Asher’s ear. "You’ve gone soft, boy. Let me remind you why you shouldn’t."

With a brutal snap, Henry yanked and broke Asher’s arm.