Rejected by Her Mate Claimed by Four Alphas novel Chapter 42

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CHAPTER 39

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Alpha Darius‘ POV

Clara stood at the back, brows pulled tight. Her arms were crossed, posture tight with irritation. She didn’t like surprises. She hated being left in the dark. But she hadn’t stormed off. That already told me she’d

fight.

She always did.

I stepped forward. My voice carried without needing to shout.

“Today’s challenge is simple,” I said. “A spar. A fight. The winner earns a personal prize from me.”

A hum of excitement rolled through the crowd.

“But what you didn’t know,” I continued, letting my voice harden, “is who will be fighting.”

I looked to the right, where six of my elite stood–posture perfect, smug confidence written all over their faces. They’d sharpened their weapons and their egos. Let them.

“And what you didn’t expect,” I said, turning slowly toward Clara, “is her.”

I pointed to her.

“Step into the ring.”

She blinked. Once. Then moved.

No hesitation. No confusion. She walked past warriors whispering behind their hands, past older wolves

whose eyes narrowed in disbelief. When she reached the center of the pit, the murmurs turned to open

laughter.

“Is this a joke?” one of the elites, Jarek, called out. “Alpha, you’re throwing us a chew toy?”

“Careful,” another smirked. “She might bite.”

Laughter broke out.

Clara didn’t flinch.

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at them. She stood barefoot in the sand, chin high, body loose like a

loaded spring. Calm. Ready.

I spoke again.

“She will face each of you. One by one.”

That shut the laughter down.

“If she lands a hit–a single hit–you’ll answer to me. And if she brings one of you to your knees, you’re done. You lose your place in the elite.”

Now their faces shifted. That smug gleam faded into something else. Wariness. Offense.

“You want to put our ranks on the line for this?” Jarek asked. “She’s been here five minutes.”

“I don’t care if she’s been here five seconds,” I said, voice like iron. “You think strength means age? Means reputation? Then you’re already weaker than I thought.”

Clara’s eyes found mine. No words. Just a flicker of heat.

She didn’t need a speech.

She would speak with her fists.

I raised a hand.

“First challenger. Step forward.”

Jarek grinned like it was a joke. Stepped into the ring with the swagger of someone already planning how

he’d end it.

She didn’t even look at him.

She listened.

To his footfalls. His breathing. The twitch of his fingers. Every ounce of her poised like a predator scenting

her prey.

The crowd leaned in. Breath held.

Jarek lunged.

She moved.

Not backward. Not away.

She stepped into his attack, a move so unexpected that Jarek’s momentum carried him past where she should have been. Clara’s hand shot out, tapping his shoulder as he stumbled past.

“One hit,” I announced, my voice cutting through the sudden silence.

Jarek spun around, his face twisted with disbelief. “That wasn’t-”

“It was a hit,” I said, leaving no room for argument. “Continue.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. No more playing around. No more underestimating. He circled her now, all

predator, all focus.

Clara matched his movements, her bare feet shifting silently in the sand. I watched her breathing–even, controlled. Her eyes never left Jarek, but they didn’t fixate on any one part of him. She was taking in everything–his stance, his weight distribution, the tension in his shoulders telegraphing his next move.

He feinted left, then attacked right–a move that had broken bones before. Clara didn’t fall for it. She pivoted on her heel, letting his fist graze past her ear, then dropped low and swept her leg in a perfect arc.

Jarek’s feet went out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud that sent dust billowing up around his

body.

The crowd gasped.

I didn’t. I’d known what she was capable of the moment I’d seen her fight in that forest. But knowing and seeing were different things. Seeing her take down one of my best warriors with moves that spoke of years of training–that was something else entirely.

“Next,” I called, as Jarek pushed himself up, fury and humiliation burning in his eyes.

Vex stepped forward, her long limbs graceful, dangerous. She rarely ever showed up to my crazy trainings because she was always on missions. Today was a good day to see if Clara was as good as I thought she was. Same goes for Vex. Where Jarek was bulk and power, Vex was speed and precision. She was the only

female in my elite squad, lethal with or without weapons.

“I won’t underestimate you like he did,” she told Clara, voice cool as she entered the ring.

Clara nodded once. Just once. Respect between predators.

I raised my hand, then dropped it. “Begin.”

Vex attacked immediately, a flurry of strikes too fast for most eyes to follow. But Clara wasn’t most people. She blocked, dodged, weaved–never quite where Vex expected her to be. Each movement flowed

into the next, no wasted energy, no panic.

The crowd was silent now, mesmerized by the dance unfolding before them. Two fighters, evenly matched in speed if not in experience. For almost a full minute, neither landed a solid hit.

Then Vex overextended on a kick. The tiniest of mistakes. Clara caught her ankle, twisted, and in one fluid

motion flipped Vex onto her back.

Before Vex could recover, Clara’s foot hovered above her throat.

“Point,” I said, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

Vex stared up at Clara, then did something unexpected. She laughed–a short, surprised sound. “Well

played,” she said, accepting Clara’s outstretched hand to pull herself up.

The rest of my elites weren’t so gracious.

Kai charged in like a bull, all rage and muscle. Clara sidestepped at the last second, using his momentum

against him as she had with Jarek, but adding a sharp elbow to his kidney as he passed. He bellowed in pain but recovered quickly, turning with surprising agility for a man his size.

“Lucky shot,” he growled.

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