The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83

The bell rings and the sound hits my skull like it wants to stay there.

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It’s not ceremonial anymore once it echoes off the stone. It’s a command. Do it now or die standing still.

The heat rolls up from the sand immediately, dry and suffocating, sticking to my skin under the thin armor. The crowd is loud enough that I feel it in my ribs, not just my ears. Thousands of bodies packed into stone tiers, chanting one name like they’re trying to summon a god.

Camilla.

I don’t look at her right away. I look up.

Alaric is still there.

He hasn’t moved since I stepped into the pit. Not a lean. Not a shift. Nothing. He’s carved into that throne like it grew around him. His hands are gripping the stone arms hard enough that his knuckles are bone–white. His eyes are locked on me, not the arena as a whole. Me. Like if he looks away for half a second, something irreversible will happen.

Good. Let him watch.

The barrier hums as Camilla and I move forward at the same time. It’s a low vibration, almost comforting if 1 don’t think about the fact that it means no one can step in when this goes to shit. Priests ring the edge of the pit, eyes glazed, hands raised, magic humming through them like they’re conduits instead of people.

No exits. No mercy.

Camilla smiles at me as we close the distance. Not a nervous smile. Not a forced one. The kind you give you already think you’ve won.

I kick first.

when

It’s instinct, drilled into me since I was twelve, aiming for her ribs, fast and clean. My boot slices through empty space because of course it does. She pivots just enough to let me miss, then steps inside my reach like she owns it and drives her fist straight into my shoulder.

The impact rattles my teeth.

I stagger back half a step, not because I can’t take it, but because she hits like she means to end things quickly. The crowd roars, volume spiking, feeding her like she’s plugged into them.

“Too slow,” Camilla says lightly, like she’s correcting a trainee.

“Go fuck yourself,” I snap, resetting my stance.

She comes at me again, faster this time, and I block, barely. My forearm takes the hit and vibrates painfully. I counter with a punch aimed at her face, but she ducks, smooth as water, and slams her knee into my thigh.

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Chapter 82

Pain done up my leg, sharp and immediate

1 grit my teeth and refuse to make a sound. Not for her, Not for them

We circle, boots scraping against the sand, breathing hard. She moves like the kores exactly where I’m going to be before I decide it myself. That pisses me off more than the cheering

1 draw my dagger mid–step, the familiar weight settling into my palm like an old friend. 1 dash as 1 advance not wild, not desperate, Calculated. She blocks with her forearm guard, sparks bying, then twists and Sande a glancing blow to my jaw that snaps my head to the side

Scars burst behind my eyes.

“Sull relying on tricks?” she asks. “I thought you were better than that”

1 spit into the sand. “Still relying on an audience?

She laughs, actually laugh, and the sound carries, sweet and sharp. They like winner

I lunge again, faster, forcing her back this time. My blade caches her side, shallow but enough to draw blood Red spreads acrow the white of her armor, bright and ugly.

The crowd stutters, uncertain.

Camilla hisses, then smiles wider. “There you are.”

She surges forward, relentless now, driving me back step by step. She’s stronger than she looks, faster than I want to admit. Every strike she lands is efficient, nothing wasted. This isn’t a brawl to her. It’s a performance

As we move, she talks. Calm. Steady. Like we’re alone.

“Did you hesitate?” she asks quietly, ducking my blade. “When you stood by the door holding that staged pie?”

My stomach tightens despite myself.

She saw it. Of course she does. She saw me standing out there.

“The office,” she continues, circling clover, eyes never leaving mine. “I remember your face when you saw us by the door. You looked… confused.”

I slash at her again, anger making me sloppy, and she knocks my arm aside easily.

“I kissed him,” she says. “Right there. You saw it.”

“Shut up

“He didn’t pull away, you know,”

I drive forward, shoulder–first, slamming into her. We crash to the sand, rolling, grit filling my mouth. She elbows my ribs and scrambles back to her feet faster than I can.

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Chapter 83

“He liked it,” she says, almost kindly. “Why wouldn’t he? Even if I’m not his mane Nebory vor you”

The words land wrong. Not like an insult. Like something already roses bring pressed on

I push up, chest heaving. “He would never choose you!

Camilla tilts her head. “Why not?”

I don’t answer because the truth flickers somewhere wgy in my chest. Because bonds can be refered Because politics matter. Because I’m already cracked and bleeding and standing in a pit begging for leprimary to this

throne

She uses my silence.

Camilla closes the distance and hits me again, hard enough that I stumble, sand dipping under my boots “What does he even like about you?” she asks. The can of your falled marriage The baggage your brought Or is it just pity?”

Rage surges, hot and blinding and I wing wildly

She ducks and sweeps my leg out from under me

I hit the ground hard, breath punching out of my lungs. The sound the crowd makes is ugly. Sucisfied

I roll, barely avoiding her stomp, and scramble back up, vision swimming, My ears ring, the noise blurring into a dull roar. I taste blood

Across the pit, Alaric shifts.

Just barely. A flicker of movement. His jaw tightens, something feral flashing in his eyes, and for a split second I feel it like a tether pulling tight.

Focus.

Camilla doesn’t rush me this time. She stalks, measured, confident. “You’re fighting like someone who’s already lost,” she says. “Maybe you know it too.”

I raise my blade again, hands shaking despite my best effort to steady them. My leg screams with every step. My shoulder burns.

Porrowed confidence. That’s what this is. Mine ran out somewhere between the first hit and her voice crawling into my head.

She strikes again and this time I don’t block fast enough. Her fist connects with my temple and the world tilts violently,

I fall.

The sand rushes up, then nothing but ringing, heavy and thick, like I’ve been dropped underwater. The crowd fades. The barrier hum drops away. There’s just dark, and my own breath, and the feeling of sinking.

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Irina Bone my things and the sand be cold water my palme as I push myself upright

all aming nge

Camilla jo decay awning overs Me

Similes

The ong, druby–on smile he makes my fingers and tightner acound the blade

Oh the top ligarly, “You’re will beating

I dragiten, era fhravya may kana threatens to fold. Dexyphae

Wer gave Wicks onverme Book my mouth, my litap, the way my shoulder sits wrong. She looks pleased. “You did se sexyed down. Je would’ve been Kouder

Kind That’s rich, coming from the woman who’s been trying to bury me since the moment she realized I endile ghassan ghatty enough.

She advances. I move too, sommer this time, more careful Every step sends a sharp warning up my leg. My body’s fired. My mind is wore. The crowd senses it. Their noise swells, hungry

Yorrowed confidence is a bitch. It charges interest

Camilla strikes first–clean, fau. I barely get my blade up in time. The impact rattles my arms. Sparks flash where metal scrapes metal. She follows with an elbow to my ribs that knocks the air out of me.

“Is this it?” she taunts, circling. “The Lycan King’s precious mistake?”

I spit blood into the sand. “You talk too much”

She laughs and slams her knee into my stomach. 1 fold with a sound I don’t recognize as mine. The crowd roars. My ears ring, again, sharp and high.

Inside, Kris surges.

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Chapter 83

Her voice claws up my spine, feral and frantic. Take it. Let me-

‘No.‘

The word comes out flat. Final.

‘I’m done letting anything else drive.‘

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Camilla bites through my fur and yanks my head back. Her breath is hot against my ear. “You don’t belong here,” she murmurs through the mindlink. “You never did.”

She throws me.

My back hits the arena wall hard enough that stone cracks beneath the impact. Pain detonate and a whimper slips out of Eris. White explodes behind my eyes. I slide down, vision tunneling.

I hear it before I see it.

The barrier’s hum spikes. The priests shout. Panic ripples.

Through the blur, I catch it—Alaric, halfway out of his throne, hands fisted in a priest’s robes. His face isn’t anger anymore. It’s something stripped bare and lethal. He says something I don’t hear.

Then his hands twist.

The priest drops.

Dead.

A corner of my mouth lifts.

Yeah. He meant it.

He’s going to burn this place down if I so as get a scratch.

The thought warms me even as the dark creeps in. Even as my body gives up and the world drains away.

***

I wake up to… nothing.

There’s nothing.

No sand. No sound.

Just black.

I float or maybe I don’t exist at all. I try to breathe and can’t tell if I am. Panic blooms sharp and ugly.

“Hello?” My voice cracks, swallowed whole.

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Chapter 83

Nothing answers.

My chest tightens. Not fear. Not pain. Tired.

So fucking tired.

Then a voice cuts through the void–steady, unimpressed.

“Is that really all you have?”

I freeze.

The voice isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be.

“… Who are you?” I ask and the voice pauses.

“My daughter,” the voice says, almost annoyed. “I expected more.”

My heart stutters. “What did you just—”

Daughter?

***

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Light detonates.

I slam back into my body with a gasp that rips out of me.

Noise crashes in. Heat. Stone. Blood.

I’m on all fours again.

No–lower.

Bigger.

My vision sharpens, colors deeper, edges brutal and clear. I feel the ground through pads instead of skin. My breath comes out in a low, rolling growl that vibrates my chest.

Eris is there.

But she’s quiet.

Watching.

For the first time… she steps back and I rise.

Across the arena, Camilla’s wolf stands tall, massive and sleek as she’s been before I passed out, her head thrown back as she howls to the crowd. Victory. Assumed. Claimed.

She’s already turned away. I bare my teeth.

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Chapter 83

Not yet.

I answer the void–not aloud, but with certainty that hums through every muscle.

You expected more? Then so be it.

I launch.

The distance disappears under me. My jaws clamp down on her hind leg with a crunch that echoes through the arena. Bone gives. Blood floods my mouth–hot, metallic.

Camilla screams.

She collapses, howling, scrambling as I drag her down and slam her into the stone. My weight pins her. My growl drops low, vibrating straight through her chest.

Silence slams into the stands.

No cheers. No chants.

Just the sound of her bleeding beneath me.

I lift my head slowly, blood dripping from my teeth, and meet Alaric’s bloody gaze through the barrier.

His eyes are glowing.

So are mine.

“W–we… have a winner!”