ARIA'S POV
The wolf's fist crashed into my ribs.
Pain exploded through my chest, but I didn't go down. I never went down.
"Stay down, little girl!" The massive gray wolf circled me, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Blood dripped from his split knuckles—my blood. "You don't belong in the Blood Pit!"
The underground arena roared with excitement. Hundreds of rogue wolves screamed from the darkness beyond the cage, their eyes glowing in the shadows. They wanted violence. They wanted death.
I'd give them a show.
"Little girl?" I spat blood onto the concrete floor and smiled. "You hit like one."
His face twisted with rage. Good. Angry wolves made mistakes.
He charged like a freight train, using his size to intimidate. Most female wolves would panic. Five years ago, I would have panicked.
But I wasn't that terrified sixteen-year-old anymore.
I dropped low, spun beneath his wild swing, and drove my elbow into his kidney. He grunted. Before he could recover, I swept his legs and sent three hundred pounds of muscle crashing to the ground.
The crowd exploded.
I didn't wait. I couldn't afford mercy in the Blood Pit. My knee found his throat, pinning him down. My fist pulled back for the finishing blow.
"Yield," I growled.
His eyes—wide with shock that a girl half his size had him beat—darted around the arena. Pride warred with survival. The ref wouldn't stop the fight unless he submitted or stopped breathing.
Smart wolves chose submission.
"I yield!" he gasped.
I released him and stood, ignoring the screaming pain in my ribs. Probably cracked. I'd tape them later.
The ref grabbed my wrist and raised my arm high. "Winner: Silver!"
Silver. That's what they called me here. No last name. No pack. Just the ghost fighter who never lost.
"Five years undefeated!" the announcer's voice boomed. "The Silver Death claims another victory!"
I didn't smile. Didn't celebrate. I just collected my winnings from the cage manager—a thick envelope of cash—and headed for the exit.
The smell of blood followed me through the dark tunnel. Sweat, violence, and copper. It should have made me sick.
Instead, it triggered the memory.
Always the memory.
Blood on stone floors. Screams echoing through the pack house. Sixteen-year-old me, frozen in the cellar, peeking through the crack in the floorboards.
"Please!" My father's voice, desperate. Alpha Marcus Silverpaw on his knees before a massive black wolf with eyes like burning coals.
"The Council has spoken," a deep voice said. Kade Blackthorn's voice. "Your pack harbored traitors."
"That's a lie! Someone set us up—"
The black wolf moved faster than lightning. Jaws closed around my father's throat.
I tried to scream. Uncle Ryker's hand clamped over my mouth.
"Don't make a sound," he whispered in my ear, tears streaming down his face. "Not one sound, or you die too."
I watched my father's eyes go empty. Watched the black wolf—Kade—throw his body aside like garbage.
Watched my entire world burn.
I stumbled against the tunnel wall, gasping for air. Five years later, and the flashbacks still hit like physical blows.
"You good, Silver?"
I looked up. Maya leaned against the tunnel exit, her short black hair still damp from her own fight earlier. She was the only person who knew my real name. My only friend in this violent underworld.
"Fine," I lied, straightening. "Just another fight."
"Your ribs aren't fine. I heard that hit from the stands." She handed me my jacket. "You need to be more careful. If you get seriously injured before—"
"I won't." I shrugged into the leather, wincing. "I've been training for this my whole life."
"Five years isn't your whole life, Aria."
The sound of my real name made my chest tighten. Aria Silverpaw. Daughter of a murdered Alpha. Last survivor of a massacred pack.
"It's the only life that matters," I said quietly.
Maya's expression softened, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the darkness.
"Impressive fight."
Uncle Ryker stepped from the shadows like he always did—silent, watchful. He looked the same as he had five years ago: sharp features, gray-streaked hair, the same eyes my father had.
He was the only family I had left.
"Uncle Ryker." I straightened, suddenly alert. He never came to the fights unless it was important. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." A slight smile touched his lips. "Everything's finally right."
He pulled a manila folder from his jacket and handed it to me.
My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside: documents, photographs, and an official seal I recognized instantly.
The Lunar Trials. Bloodmoon Pack. Three days from now.
My heart stopped.
"Is this—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Your invitation." Ryker's eyes glinted in the dim light. "The Lunar Trials happen every five years. Wolves from different packs compete for honor and the chance to join the strongest pack in the territories."
"Blackthorn's pack," I whispered.
"Exactly." He pointed to the documents. "I've created a new identity for you: Silver Moonborn, rogue wolf. Your fighting reputation precedes you. They'll accept your application."
I stared at the papers, not quite believing it. Five years of training. Five years of becoming a weapon. Five years of dreaming about this exact moment.
"This is it?" My voice cracked. "I can finally—"
"Get close to him. Make him trust you." Ryker's hand squeezed my shoulder. "And when the moment is right, you strike."
I pulled out the silver blade I always carried—the same blade my father wore the night he died. The only thing I'd managed to save from the ashes.
"I won't fail," I promised.
"I know." Ryker's smile widened. "You're ready, Aria. You've always been ready."
He melted back into the shadows, leaving me with the folder and five years of rage burning in my chest.
Maya moved beside me, reading over my shoulder. "Holy shit. You're really doing this."
"I have to." I touched the blade's handle. "Kade Blackthorn murdered my father. Destroyed my pack. Took everything from me."
"And now?"
I looked at the photograph paper-clipped to the application. Kade's face stared back at me—older, harder, but those red eyes were unmistakable.
The eyes that haunted my nightmares.
"Now I take everything from him," I said softly. "Starting with his life."
Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing will go wrong."
"But what if—"
"Maya." I turned to face her. "I've spent five years becoming someone strong enough to kill an Alpha. I won't waste it."
She nodded slowly, but worry shadowed her eyes.
We walked toward the exit in silence. Outside, the city lights blurred together. Normal humans going about their normal lives, completely unaware that monsters walked among them.
That night, I had the nightmare again.
My father's dying eyes looking at me through the cellar cracks. His mouth forming words I couldn't hear. The guilt that I survived when everyone else burned.
But this time, when I woke up screaming, I didn't cry.
I smiled.
Because in three days, I'd finally face the monster who destroyed my life.
And one of us wasn't walking away.