Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Raven’s POV

“And,” he said, already turning away. “I don’t wanna hear you bitch about pulled muscles later.”

His voice sounded too casual, too dismissive. But maybe it’s just me being me, paranoid as always.

Let it go, Raven. Just enjoy the fight.

I locked the locker, then headed to the open floor. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, leather wraps, and the faint metallic tang of blood from earlier bouts. The concrete walls echoed with grunts, the smack of fists on heavy bags, and the occasional burst of laughter from the regulars.

I started slow, jogging laps around the perimeter of the room, letting my body wake up. My boots scuffed against the mat, my breath evening out as my muscles warmed. By the third lap, my pulse had settled into a steady rhythm, my senses sharpening.

Then I moved to stretching.

I planted my feet wide, bending at the waist to press my palms flat against the floor, letting my hamstrings burn. My tank rode up, exposing the defined lines of my lower back, the scars there pale and jagged against my skin.

Minuets later, I finished my last stretch, rolling my shoulders as the familiar burn of warmed-up muscles settled in. Across the room, Rodriguez was clearing the center mat, shooing away a couple of rookies who looked like they’d rather watch the fight than be in one.

Marty, leaning against the chain-link fence surrounding the ring, let out a low whistle as I twisted into a deep lunge.

“Aw man,” he sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I think I fall in love with you, AGAIN, sister. I’m gonna propose to you right here, right now. Please say yes.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I switched legs. “Sure, Marty. The day you can take me in a fight is the day I say yes.”

Dante, who had been wrapping his hands nearby without looking up, deadpanned, “Guess that ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime, dude.”

Marty clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Damn, Raven. Cold.”

Rodriguez clapped his hands, cutting through the bullshit. “Alright, lovebirds, break it up. You ready, Raven?”

I cracked my knuckles. “Always.”

Rodriguez cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders like a bull ready to charge. The dim overhead lights of Off the Rail threw sharp shadows across the mat, turning the scuffed vinyl into a battlefield of light and dark.

“No holding back tonight,” he said, grinning. His stance was loose, but his eyes were sharp-he’d learned the hard way that underestimating me

istake.

bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

we were moving.

Rodriguez came in fast, leading with a probing jab-testing my guard. I slipped it, countering with a low kick to his lead leg. Thud. Solid contact, but he barely flinched, already pivoting into a heavy right hook. I ducked, feeling the wind of his fist ruffle my hair, and fired back with a sharp elbow toward his ribs. He twisted, taking the hit on his arm instead, and shoved me back with a shoulder check.

We circled, breathing steady, eyes locked.

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Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna?

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He feinted left, then lunged right, shooting for a takedown. I sprawled, hips low, digging my forearm into his neck to stall his momentum. For a second, we were locked in a sweaty, grunting stalemate-then I hooked a leg behind his knee and twisted, sending us both crashing to the mat.

The crowd around the pit whooped. Someone yelled, “Fuck him up, Raven!”

Rodriguez rolled with the fall, popping back up before I could capitalize. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. “Nice try.”

I flipped him off.

We went at it again, trading blows-knees, elbows, fists. I caught him with a spinning back kick to the liver; he repaid me with a clubbing overhand that made my ears ring. The rhythm was familiar, almost comforting. This wasn’t a death match, just a dance we’d done a dozen times before, each of us pushing the other to the edge without going over.

Then-smell.

A scent I hadn’t smelled in weeks hit me like a bucket of ice water.

WOLF.

I was distracted for a second.

Fun facts: when you’re in a middle of a fight, a second might as well be an hour.

Rodriguez’s fist connected with my jaw.

I hadn’t even seen it coming.

The world tilted. My knees hit the mat, the impact jolting up my spine. The crowd’s cheers turned into a muffled roar, like I was underwater.

Idiot. Never look away from a fight.

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