Rejected by Her Mate Claimed by Four Alphas novel Chapter 43

CHAPTER 40

Alpha Darius‘ POV

Clara said nothing, settling back into her ready stance.

He came at her again, this time more controlled. His fists were like sledgehammers–one solid connection and the fight would be over. But Clara was water to his stone, flowing around his attacks, never meeting

force with force.

When she struck, it was precise–fingers to pressure points, knuckles to nerve clusters. Small hits that accumulated, slowing him down, frustrating him into making mistakes.

The fight lasted longer than the previous two, but the outcome was the same. Kai eventually overcommitted to a haymaker that Clara ducked under, then she swept his leg and drove her knee into his solar plexus as he fell. He curled into himself, gasping for breath.

“Next,” I called, satisfaction warming my blood. The pack was watching, learning. Some with resentment, yes, but others with dawning respect.

Luka was different from the others. Cold calculation replaced hot–headed aggression. He studied Clara as he approached, noting how she favored her right side slightly, how she’d been conserving energy.

“You’re getting tired,” he observed quietly as they circled each other.

Clara didn’t respond, but I saw the truth in the thin sheen of sweat on her skin, the slightly heavier rise and fall of her chest. Three fights back–to–back against elite warriors would tax anyone.

Luka was patient. He tested her defenses with quick jabs, retreating before she could counter. He was looking for patterns, for weaknesses.

He found one–or thought he did. When he struck at her left side, she was a fraction slower to block. He

pressed the advantage, focusing his attacks there, driving her back toward the edge of the ring.

I tensed, wondering if I’d pushed her too far. But Clara’s expression remained calm. Focused. And then I

saw it–the trap she’d been setting. She’d been giving ground deliberately, making Luka believe he was

winning.

When her back was nearly to the boundary, she suddenly changed tactics. Instead of retreating, she

surged forward, inside his guard. Before he could adjust, she had one hand on his wrist, the other at his

elbow. She twisted, using his own weight as leverage, and suddenly Luka was airborne.

He landed hard on his back, the impact–knocking the wind from his lungs. Clara followed him down, one knee on his chest, hand raised to strike.

She paused there, waiting for my call.

“Point,” I said, unable to keep the approval from my voice.

Four down. Two to go. And Clara was showing signs of fatigue now–real ones, not feigned. Her breathing was heavier, a bruise forming high on her cheekbone where Luka had gotten in a glancing blow.

Dominic entered the ring next, silent as death itself. He was my stealth specialist, the pack’s shadow. If anyone could get past Clara’s defenses, it would be him.

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t circle. He simply stood, perfectly still, watching. Clara matched his stillness, conserving energy, waiting.

The silence stretched. The crowd grew restless.

Then Dominic moved–a blur of motion that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Clara reacted purely on instinct, blocking a strike she surely hadn’t fully seen.

The fight that followed was unlike the others. Where the previous battles had been physical chess matches, this was pure reflex and split–second decisions. Dominic’s style was unpredictable, chaotic by design. Clara couldn’t anticipate his moves, could only react.

For the first time, I saw her struggle. A hit connected to her ribs. Another to her shoulder. She stumbled back, breathing hard.

Dominic pressed his advantage, moving in for the finish. I tensed, wondering if this would be where her

streak ended.

But Clara had one more surprise. As Dominic closed in, she dropped to the ground as if her legs had given out. He adjusted his attack downward. Unfortunately for him, that was just exactly as she’d wanted. At the last second, she rolled sideways and kicked up, catching him under the chin.

His head snapped back. He staggered, momentarily stunned. It was all the opening Clara needed. She swept his legs and brought him down.

“Point,” I called, pride surging through me.

Five down. One to go.

But Clara was at her limit now. Blood trickled from a split in her lip. She favored her right leg as she stood, her breathing ragged. Sweat had soaked through her shirt, and her hands trembled slightly as she pushed damp hair from her face.

The final elite stepped forward. Reid. He was one of my finest. The most dangerous of them all.

“Enough,” I said, surprising myself and everyone else. “She’s proven herself.”

Reid halted, looking at me with a question in his eyes.

Although this was my idea, I was scared for her. There was only so much a girl could take. And these men, they were trained by me so I knew just how deadly each of their moves were.

Clara’s voice cut through the murmurs. “No.” A single word, hard as steel. She straightened, ignoring the pain evident in every line of her body. “Let him come.”

I met her gaze. The determination there was absolute. She wouldn’t thank me for stepping in now, for

robbing her of the complete victory.

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