Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce! novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113: Chapter 113

Kael’s POV

I needed to hit something.

Not metaphorically. Not figuratively. I needed to feel my fists connect with flesh. Needed to hear bones crack. Needed to remind myself that I was still capable of something other than sitting behind a desk and signing paperwork.

Three years.

Three years of being Alpha. Three years of meetings and negotiations and political bullshit that made me want to tear my own hair out.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d wanted this. I’d fought for this. I’d nearly died taking my father down.

But nobody tells you about the paperwork.

Nobody tells you about the endless council meetings where old wolves argue about territory boundaries that haven’t changed in fifty years. Nobody tells you about the diplomatic dinners where you have to smile at people you’d rather strangle. Nobody tells you about the loneliness.

*The loneliness is your own fault,* Fenrir growled. *You could have a Luna. You SHOULD have a Luna.*

Shut up.

*Make me.*

I slammed my office door behind me. The sound echoed through the empty hallway.

It was nearly midnight. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Smart wolves with families and lives and things to look forward to.

Me? I had a stack of reports that needed reviewing. A security briefing scheduled for 6 AM. And an empty bed in an empty mansion that I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in.

I grabbed my jacket. Made a decision.

The Pit. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

I hadn’t been there in months. Maybe longer. Being Alpha meant maintaining a certain image. Fighting in underground arenas wasn’t exactly "dignified leadership behavior," according to my advisors.

Fuck dignified.

I needed to feel something other than this constant, gnawing emptiness.

---

The drive took twenty minutes.

I didn’t think about anything on the way. Just focused on the road. The streetlights flashing past. The city giving way to the industrial district.

My body remembered the route. Muscle memory from years of coming here. Back when I was just the Alpha’s son. Back when I had something to prove.

Back when fighting was the only way I knew how to process emotions.

*Some things never change,* Fenrir muttered.

Some things don’t.

The building loomed ahead. Squat. Ugly. Completely unremarkable from the outside.

But I could already hear it. Feel it.

The bass thrumming through the concrete. The distant roar of the crowd. The energy that pulsed from the arena like a living heartbeat.

Home.

No. Not home. Just... familiar.

I parked in my usual spot. The one that had been reserved for me since I was nineteen. Back when I’d first walked into this place with a chip on my shoulder and something to prove.

They called me "Howl" back then. A stupid nickname that somehow stuck.

Now they called me Alpha.

I wasn’t sure which one felt more like a mask.

---

The back entrance was exactly where I remembered.

Heavy steel door. Dim hallway. The smell of sweat and blood and anticipation.

A guard stepped forward. Young. Nervous. His eyes went wide when he recognized me.

"A-Alpha Blood Crown?" He actually stammered. "We didn’t know you were..."

"I didn’t announce myself."

"Should I tell the managers..."

"No." I walked past him. Didn’t slow down. "I’m not here for politics. I’m here to fight."

His jaw dropped. I didn’t stick around to watch it close.

The warm-up area was exactly as I remembered. Concrete walls. Fluorescent lights. A few punching bags. Some mats. Nothing fancy.

A handful of fighters were already here. Stretching. Shadowboxing. Preparing for their matches.

They all froze when I walked in.

Silence. Complete silence.

Then whispers. Urgent. Excited.

"Is that...?"

"Holy shit, it’s him."

"The Alpha? HERE?"

"He hasn’t fought in months..."

I ignored them. Found an empty corner. Started wrapping my hands.

The familiar motion calmed me. Wind the cloth around the knuckles. Between the fingers. Around the wrist. Tight enough to protect. Loose enough to move.

*This won’t fix anything,* Fenrir said.

I know.

*She’s still gone.*

I KNOW.

*Three years of searching. Three years of nothing. And you think punching someone will make it better?*

I tightened the wraps. Hard enough to hurt.

It won’t make it better. But it might make me feel something other than this constant, suffocating emptiness.

*Pathetic.*

Yeah. I know that too.

---

The manager found me twenty minutes later.

Older wolf. Gray beard. Eyes that had seen too many fights and too many deaths.

"Alpha Blood Crown." He bowed his head. Respectful but not groveling. "It’s an honor."

"I need a fight."

"Of course." He hesitated. "We have several contenders who..."

"Your best."

He blinked. "Sir?"

"I want your best fighter." I flexed my wrapped hands. "The one who’s been winning lately. The one who thinks he might actually have a chance."

A slow smile spread across the manager’s face.

"We have a few who fit that description." He rubbed his chin. "There’s Viktor. Undefeated for the past six months. Calls himself the ’Skull Crusher.’"

"Sounds promising."

"He’s been asking about you, actually." The manager’s eyes gleamed. "Wants to challenge the record. Says you’ve been gone too long. Says you’re probably rusty."

Rusty.

A cold smile touched my lips.

"Put me in."

"As you wish, Alpha." He bowed again. "The main event slot is yours."

---

The crowd was insane.

I could hear them before I even reached the tunnel. Thousands of wolves. Screaming. Stomping. Hungry for blood.

This was what they came for. The violence. The primal release. The chance to watch two wolves tear each other apart without any of the political consequences.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers.

"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN..."

The noise intensified. A wave of sound that crashed through the concrete walls.

"THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR..."

My heart rate didn’t change. My breathing stayed steady.

The bell rang.

Viktor charged.

Stupid. Predictable. Exactly what I expected from someone who relied on size instead of skill.

I stepped aside. Let his momentum carry him past me. Drove my elbow into his kidney as he went by.

He grunted. Stumbled. Caught himself on the cage.

The crowd roared.

"Come on!" Viktor spun around. Fists raised. "Is that all you’ve got?"

I waited.

He charged again. Swinging wild. Haymakers that would have knocked out a normal wolf.

I wasn’t normal.

Duck. Weave. Counter.

My fist connected with his jaw. Solid. Clean.

His head snapped back. Spit flew from his mouth.

But he didn’t go down.

"That it?" He laughed. Blood on his teeth. "I thought you were supposed to be something special."

He came at me again. Faster this time. More controlled.

We exchanged blows. His fist glanced off my shoulder. My knee drove into his thigh.

The crowd was screaming. Chanting my name.

"KAEL! KAEL! KAEL!"

Viktor tried to grab me. Grappling. Using his size advantage.

Bad choice.

I slipped under his arm. Got behind him. Drove my elbow into the base of his skull.

He dropped to his knees.

I could have ended it there. Should have, probably. The ref was already moving forward, ready to call the fight.

But I wasn’t done.

Three years of frustration. Three years of emptiness. Three years of searching for someone who’d vanished like smoke.

I needed to feel something.

I grabbed Viktor’s hair. Yanked his head back. Drove my knee into his face.

Crunch.

There it was.

That satisfying sound. That crack of bone. That spray of blood.

Viktor collapsed. Face-first onto the mat. Completely unconscious.

The crowd went INSANE.

---

The ref raised my hand. The announcer screamed something about records and legends and undefeated streaks.

I barely heard any of it.

My chest was heaving. My knuckles throbbed. Blood dripped from my skin...mine or Viktor’s, I couldn’t tell.

But the emptiness was still there.

*Told you,* Fenrir said quietly. *This doesn’t fix anything.*

I know.

I pulled my hand free from the ref. Turned to face the crowd.

Thousands of wolves. Screaming. Crying. Reaching for me.

My eyes drifted to the corner section.

The seats were empty.