Chapter 37: The Duel

The challenge circle was drawn in blood on the training floor—a ring of crimson that pulsed under the fluorescent lights. Elena stood at its center, her shoulder still throbbing from the wound Lydia had given her hours ago. The pack had gathered in a silent crescent, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. Damon stood at the front, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He had tried to stop this. She had refused. Lydia circled the edge of the ring like a predator, her silver blade catching the light. The same blade that had pierced Elena's shoulder. Now it was slick with fresh poison, a sickly green sheen coating the edge. "You should have stayed in your cage, sister," Lydia hissed. "This pack will never accept a Vance who was sold like cattle." Elena forced herself to breathe evenly. The poison from the earlier wound had left her weak, her limbs heavy, her thoughts sluggish. But she had planned for this. She had known Lydia would use poison; it was her signature. The antidote had been bitter on her tongue, but it was working, slowly. The trembling in her hands was fading. "You're the one who sold me," Elena said, her voice steady despite the ache. "You and Father. You thought I'd break. You thought I'd die in silence." She took a step forward, her bare feet pressing into the cold stone. "But I'm still standing." Lydia laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "Standing? You can barely hold yourself up. Look at you—shaking like a leaf. This will be quick." She lunged. Elena sidestepped, but the movement sent a spike of pain through her shoulder. The blade grazed her arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The poison burned, but she had taken enough antidote to slow its spread. She gritted her teeth and focused on Lydia's pattern—the way she favored her right side, the slight hitch in her step from an old injury. Lydia attacked again, a wild slash aimed at Elena's throat. Elena dropped low, sweeping her leg. Lydia stumbled but recovered, her eyes blazing with fury. "You fight like a coward," she spat. "Ducking and hiding. A true alpha meets her enemy head-on." "A true alpha doesn't stab her own sister in the back," Elena replied, circling. "And she doesn't hide a blade in her boot." Lydia's eyes flickered. She knew Elena had seen the second blade. Elena feigned a stumble, dropping to one knee. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to stay present. Lydia took the bait, charging in for a killing blow. The silver blade descended, aimed at Elena's heart. At the last second, Elena rolled, snatching a handful of dust from the floor and throwing it into Lydia's face. Lydia screamed, clawing at her eyes. Elena surged to her feet, ignoring the fire in her shoulder. She grabbed Lydia's wrist and twisted, forcing the blade to clatter to the ground. But Lydia was faster. Her free hand pulled the hidden blade from her boot—a small, curved dagger coated in the same green poison. She drove it into Elena's shoulder, exactly where the first wound had been. Elena screamed. The pain was blinding, white-hot, spreading through her chest. She fell backward, her hand clutching the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers, dark and thick. Lydia stood over her, triumphant. "I told you. Weak." Elena's vision blurred. The pack's murmurs faded to a distant hum. She could see Damon moving, his face twisted with fury, but Kael held him back. The rules of the challenge were absolute—no interference. But Elena had one move left. As Lydia raised the blade for a final strike, Elena reached into her waistband and pulled out the small vial she had hidden there—not a weapon, but a vial of wolfsbane concentrate, the one thing that could incapacitate a werewolf instantly. She had taken the antidote hours ago. Lydia had not. Elena smashed the vial against Lydia's face. Lydia screamed, dropping the blade as the liquid burned into her skin, her eyes, her mouth. She clawed at her face, stumbling backward, her howls echoing off the walls. Within seconds, she collapsed, convulsing on the floor. Elena dragged herself to her feet, swaying. Blood ran down her arm, dripping onto the stone. She stood over Lydia's unconscious body and looked at the pack. "The challenge is over," she said, her voice hoarse but clear. "I win." A long silence. Then Kael stepped forward, his face unreadable. He raised her hand. "Elena Vance is the heir to the Blackwood Pack." The pack erupted—some in cheers, others in stunned silence. Damon broke free and rushed to her side, catching her as her knees buckled. "You reckless, stubborn," he started, his voice thick with emotion. "You could have died." "But I didn't," she whispered, leaning into him. Then the doors to the training hall burst open. Marcus Vance strode in, flanked by a dozen armed wolves wearing the crimson badges of the Crimson Fang. His eyes swept the room and landed on Elena, bloody and victorious. "Well done, daughter," he said, his voice dripping with false pride. "But the game is over. The Crimson Fang has surrounded the compound. Surrender, or everyone you love dies." A cold hollow opened beneath Elena's ribs. Behind him, through the open doors, she saw the army—hundreds of wolves, their eyes glowing in the dark. They were trapped.