Rejected by My Alpha Now He Replaced Me with a Copycat Luna novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Raven’s POV

I forced my breathing steady as I secured the gloves, the familiar ritual helping me lock away everything but the fight. The past decade had carved this lesson into my bones: survival depended on absolute focus.

When I opened my eyes, Kael wasn’t the intriguing alpha or the unexpectedly considerate man anymore. Just an opponent. A challenge to

conquer.

His brows lifted slightly as he studied my transformed demeanor, but he moved to the center without comment, extending his fist. Our gloves met with a dull thud, the club’s chatter fading to white noise.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” I demanded, holding his gaze.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he nodded to Marty. The sharp whistle pierced the air.

I shifted my weight instantly, bouncing lightly on my toes. My smaller frame had advantages-quicker pivots, faster footwork. Against Kael’s sheer power, I’d need every edge.

We circled slowly, each reading the other’s rhythm. Kael moved with the same lethal grace Asher had demonstrated earlier, that pack-trained precision evident in every controlled motion. It told me everything I needed to know-their fighting styles would share DNA.

Good, at least I had practice.

His first jab came slow, telegraphed. I blocked easily, countering with a sharper strike that landed against his ribs. The soft grunt it earned sent satisfaction curling through me.

“THAT all you’ve got?” I taunted, dancing back.

His eyes flashed, but the next series of strikes still carried restraint. Frustration burned through my veins. I didn’t want his kid-glove treatment-I wanted to prove I could stand toe-to-toe with an alpha and hold my ground.

The next time he lunged, I didn’t just block. I slipped under his guard, driving an elbow toward his solar plexus. At the last second, he twisted, my strike glancing off muscle instead of finding its mark.

A spark lit in his blue eyes-finally, finally the barest hint of real challenge.

Kael’s jaw tightened like steel cable. “I don’t hit women,” he ground out, the words laced with old-fashioned chivalry that made my blood boil.

“Then stop seeing me as one,” I shot back, rolling my shoulders. “See me as an opponent who’s about to wipe the mat with you.”

The crowd erupted in hollers. Dante’s voice carried over the noise: “Join the club! She wiped the mat with all our asses at least once!”

The comment almost made me smile-almost. That split-second distraction was all Kael needed. His fist connected with my ribs, the controlled impact singing through my bones. Not enough to hurt, but enough to sting.

Finally.

“Now we’re talking.”

What followed was poetry in violence-a give-and-take of strikes and counters that blurred the world beyond the ring. Kael moved like liquid shadow, his bulk belying his speed. For the first time in years, I felt truly challenged, every cell alight with the thrill of matching an equal.

My knee found his side, drawing a satisfying grunt. His answering takedown came faster than thought, my back hitting the mat with a whoosh

Chapter 26

of expelled air. Normally I’d roll free, but Kael pinned me with terrifying efficiency, his grip iron around my wrists.

“Tap out,” he ordered, his voice rough.

I thrashed, testing every angle. No give.

“Tap. Out.”

The command brooked no argument. With a frustrated growl, I tapped his forearm. The moment I did, he released me like I’d burned him, hauling me upright in one smooth motion.

“You’re really good,” he admitted.” That was far from a fair fight. I’m twice your weight.”

I shoved my mouthguard into its case, my pulse still racing. “I know. Thanks for not treating me like glass.” Though the glint in his eyes told me he’d been holding back far more than he’d shown.

The realization should have stung my pride. Instead, it sent an unexpected warmth through my chest-the kind that had nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with the man still standing close enough that I could count the flecks of silver in his blue eyes.

The raucous cheers of the crowd faded into white noise as my body locked up. A figure pushed through the gathered fighters, his movements smooth and predatory.

Midnight-black hair brushed his shoulders, framing a face that belonged on some Renaissance painting-all sharp angles and cruel beauty. But it was the tattoo on his arm that sent ice flooding my veins: a single dagger inked with meticulous detail.

“Raven.”

His voice was a blade drawn across stone.

My stomach dropped.

I could tell from his scent that he’s in the same pack with Kael, Dexter, Nox and Asher.

Except I recognized him. He’s one of The Reapers.

Which mean, of all the packs, all the territories, the one I’d somehow stumbled into was The Reapers. Great. Not just any mercenary wolves, but the ones whispered about in every supernatural underground. The kind who made problems disappear so thoroughly, even ghosts wouldn’t dare linger.

The man’s gaze pinned me like a butterfly to corkboard.

Oh. Fuck my life.

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