novelraw Chapter 142: Who’s She
Chapter 142: Who’s She
Leo’s POV
I leaned back in the carved wooden chair, the heat of the Nigerian sun pressing heavily against my skin. Usually, I could tolerate these events, but today, my wolf was pacing behind my ribs, restless and irritable. The Alphas beside me were talking about trade and territory, their voices a low noise that I tuned out.
Ever since we landed, I felt like I was walking through a fog. Everything felt... off.
Groups of warriors stepped onto the field, bowing in unison. I barely looked at them. I knew the game. Some female fighters were already throwing scent at me, trying to catch my eye with a flick of their hair or a flex of their muscles. They wanted a piece of a Full Moon Alpha. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
But then, I felt it.
It wasn’t a scent.
It wasn’t a sound.
It was a pull...like a hook catching in my chest.
My head snapped toward the field. My eyes locked onto a figure dressed in charcoal-colored armor. The visor was dark, hiding everything, but the intensity coming from that warrior was strange.
For a split second, our gazes met. The air in my lungs turned to ice. I couldn’t see her eyes...but I felt a soul staring back at me.
Then, the warrior looked away.
"Who is that?" I muttered, my brow furrowed.
Alpha Musa glanced down. "One of the armored ones? Hard to say, Leo. Some fighters prefer to stay nameless. They don’t want the fame; they just want the win. There are a few out there today."
I watched her—I knew it was a she by the way she moved. She wasn’t the only one in armor, but she was the only one who made my wolf stop pacing and growl in confusion.
The announcer’s voice boomed: "Next match: warrior Samantha versus warrior Afini!"
She stepped forward. I expected a struggle, but what I saw was a goddamn masterpiece.
She moved like liquid fire—fast, sharp, and impossible to predict. She didn’t just fight; she danced around her opponent’s heavy blows. Before a minute had even passed, she used her opponent’s own weight against him, sweeping his legs and pinning him to the dust with a training stick at his throat.
I stood up without realizing it, my hands gripping the edge of the gallery railing.
Damn. I had been completely bored moments ago, but now the blood was rushing through my veins. I hadn’t seen a female fighter that skilled in years. There was a precision in her strikes, a familiarity in the way she pivoted her hips that made my heart skip a beat.
She moved to the next round with a silent nod, walking toward the edges of the field to rest as the wolf-form fights began. The crowd roared as massive wolves tore into each other, but I didn’t spare them a glance. My eyes were locked on the charcoal suit.
I watched her walk over to a tall, black warrior. They started talking, his hand resting briefly on her armored shoulder. Was that her packmate? Her boyfriend?
A flash of unearned anger flared in my gut. I didn’t even know the woman’s name—Samantha was likely a fake title—and I couldn’t even see the color of her skin. In this part of the world, she was almost certainly a local warrior, but I couldn’t stop staring.
"Something wrong, Leo?" Alpha Ali asked from behind me, noticing my rigid posture.
"That fighter," I said, pointing a finger toward the girl in the charcoal suit. "The one they called Samantha. Find out which pack she belongs to."
"Why the interest?"
I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t tell him that for the first time in three years, my wolf wasn’t mourning. He was curious. He was interested in knowing someone.
"She’s good," I said shortly, my eyes narrowing as she laughed at something the warrior said. "I want to see how good she is when the stakes are higher."
But deep down, it wasn’t about the fight. It was about the way my skin pricked when she was near. It was the impossible feeling that among thousands of strangers in a foreign land, I had stumbled upon something that caught my interest.
The tournament moved fast, but my world had narrowed down to that single figure in charcoal grey. Match after match, she was relentless. She didn’t just win; she dismantled her opponents. The crowd was starting to notice, too. The whispers were growing into cheers for the mystery warrior. "Samantha! Samantha!" they chanted.
But as the final match was called, my breath hitched.
Her opponent was a massive man—a warrior nearly twice her size with arms the size of tree trunks. He was the Iron-Claw’s champion, and he looked like he could crush her with a single hand.
I found myself leaning so far over the railing that Alpha Ali had to put a hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Leo. It’s just a match."
"It’s not just a match," I snapped, my eyes fixed on her.
My heart was doing a panic rhythm against my ribs. I felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it made me feel insane. I wanted to jump the railing, push her aside, and finish this myself. Why was I panicking for a stranger? It was ridiculous, yet I couldn’t sit back down.
The fight began, and it was brutal. The big man swung a heavy mace-staff that whistled through the air. She dodged, moved, and countered, but the size difference was to her disadvantage. A heavy blow caught her in the side, the sound of wood hitting metal echoing through the silent arena. If she hadn’t been wearing that armor, her ribs would have been broken...
Then, he caught her. With a roar, he swept her off her feet, slamming her onto the dusty floor.
I stood up instantly, my chair falling backward with a loud crash. "Get up," I growled under my breath, my knuckles white as I gripped the stone edge.
The giant raised his staff for a finishing strike, but then, it happened. Like a flash of light, she didn’t just move—she exploded. She rolled, used the momentum of the floor to kick his lead leg, and was back on her feet before his weapon even hit the dirt. She blocked his next strike with such speed and force that the vibration sent a cloud of dust into the air.
Fucking goodness, what the hell are you?
She didn’t wait. She lunged, sliding under his guard and delivering a strike to his solar plexus that folded the giant like a piece of paper. She followed with a sweep, and suddenly, the massive warrior was on the ground, and her training blade was resting precisely against the soft skin of his throat.
The arena went dead silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into a roar that shook the very ground.
She had won. She was the champion.
She stood up slowly, her chest heaving under the armor. She didn’t celebrate. She didn’t wave to the crowd. She just turned her head, and for the second time that day, her dark visor met my gaze.
I felt a pull in my chest so violent I nearly climbed over the rail. "Bring her to the gallery," I commanded, not even looking at the Alphas beside me. My voice was a dark growl that left no room for argument. "I want to present the trophy to the champion myself."
I had to know. I had to see the face behind that mask. I had to know why a stranger from a different continent felt like the air I had been missing for the last three years.