Chapter Eighty-Six – The Battle for Acceptance
The circle of warriors widened, forming a ring around the sparring ground as Giselle faced off with the unfamiliar woman. The air was thick with anticipation, the murmurs of the crowd fading beneath the roar of her heartbeat. Rowan stood at the edge, silent, his posture rigid with tension—but he let her go.
She needed this.
She bowed once more, lower this time, her eyes never leaving her opponent’s. The woman—who still hadn’t given a name—tilted her head just slightly, assessing her like a threat she didn’t quite believe in.
That was fine.
She’d give her a reason to believe.
The first blow came fast.
Giselle barely managed to twist out of the way in time, the wind from the punch brushing her cheek as the woman advanced with practiced precision. Her opponent was clearly trained, each movement deliberate and powerful. There was no hesitation, no mercy in her eyes. Only the determination to test, or perhaps break, Rowan's Luna.
Her reflexes weren’t what they used to be—not after everything. Her body still bore the exhaustion of her time with the rogues, and her muscles screamed as she ducked another blow.
A sweeping kick caught her off guard.
She hit the ground hard, breath bursting from her lungs as dust puffed up around her. Pain radiated from her hip, but she gritted her teeth and scrambled back to her feet.
“Sloppy,” the warrior muttered under her breath.
Giselle said nothing, instead she dropped low, using her smaller frame to her advantage as she swept a leg out in a wide arc. The woman jumped over the attempt with ease and struck downward with a fist that cracked the air.
Pain exploded across Giselle's shoulder as the blow connected, and she stumbled back several steps, heart pounding. Around them, more pack members had gathered, forming a loose circle of observers. No one spoke. All eyes were on her.
Including Rowan's.
She could feel his gaze, heavy and fierce, burning with pride and something deeper—worry.
She responded with a lunge of her own, catching the woman with a feint to the left before landing a punch to her ribs. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was enough to show she wasn’t just some fragile Luna with a pretty mark on her neck.
They circled each other.
She could feel every eye in the pack on her. Judging. Weighing. Waiting to see if Rowan’s mate was truly worthy of the title.
The warrior came at her again, swinging high. Giselle blocked, her arms shaking with the force. They exchanged several hits, Giselle ducking and weaving, her strikes nimble but lacking the strength to break through.
Too slow. Too weak.
Another exchange of blows—quicker now. Giselle blocked a strike and stepped into the woman’s space, elbowing her hard in the side. But her opponent twisted with fluid grace, catching her by the shoulder and throwing her toward the edge of the ring.
She landed on her feet, barely.
Her lungs burned.
Her vision blurred for a moment, and the mark on her neck throbbed—painfully, then warmly.
And then something inside her shifted.
Aeris.
The presence of her wolf surged forward in her chest, not fully risen, but close—closer than she had felt in days. Her limbs tingled, strength slowly blooming in her muscles, and when her opponent charged again, something deep inside her snapped to attention.
‘You are Luna,’ her wolf snarled. ‘You are strength. Let it rise.’
Something inside of her snapped.
Not in a painful way—but like a lock finally breaking open. Heat rippled down her spine, her skin tingling as power pulsed through her veins. Her hearing sharpened, picking up the rapid thrum of her opponent's heart. Her vision honed in, catching the twitch of a muscle before each strike.
This time, when the warrior struck, Giselle moved.
Fast.
Blindingly fast.
The woman blinked in surprise as Giselle twisted behind her and struck out with an elbow to her ribs. The warrior grunted, stumbling to the side, and Giselle followed up with a swift kick that connected with her thigh, forcing her down to one knee.
Giselle backed up a step, panting. The crowd murmured now, whispers spreading like wildfire.
"She's... changed."
"Did you see that?"
"Luna power."
The warrior growled, pushing herself to her feet with grit and pride. "I’m not done."
Giselle nodded. "Neither am I."
Giselle moved.
She ducked the strike with impossible ease and came up behind the warrior, sweeping her leg out and knocking her down. The crowd gasped. The woman rolled and sprang to her feet, eyes narrowing now.
Giselle was faster—sharper.
She struck again, her fist catching the woman’s collarbone, and followed it with a knee to the stomach. The warrior stumbled back, stunned but not defeated.
Pain flared in Giselle’s shoulder as the woman retaliated, landing a heavy blow that nearly dislocated her joint. But she didn’t fall. Not this time.
Blow after blow, their bodies clashed, dust rising in clouds beneath their feet. The warrior's strength met Giselle's new speed and grace. For every strike Giselle deflected, she landed another. For every dodge she made, she returned with precise retaliation.
A final sweep of the warrior's leg nearly took Giselle down again, but she caught herself mid-fall and used the momentum to twist upward, slamming her palm into the woman's sternum and sending her backward across the ring.
The warrior rolled, breathless but grinning.
The defeated warrior sat up slowly, blood on her lip, and nodded once. She held up her hand in surrender. “I yield,” she said quietly.
The crowd went still. Silence fell.
Then, cheers erupted.
Chest heaving, Giselle stood tall in the center of the ring, her body trembling with power that wasn’t hers alone. It was Luna power. Pack-born. Mate-bound. Ancient.
Her eyes flicked to Elder Malric.
He said nothing. But the way he looked at her now—that unreadable expression that hovered just between caution and respect—was enough for her.
She turned. Her eyes met Rowan’s.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But pride shimmered in the depths of his expression, along with something else.
Awe.
She wasn’t just his mate.
She was Luna.
And no one—not even Elder Malric—would take that from her again.
She had risen to the challenge.
And won.
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