The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 125

I started to strip as a few of my girls surrounded me, praising me like usual. Finally—finally—some wolves seeing who the real star was again.

“You were brutal out there, Bianca,” one of them said, unwinding the wraps from my wrists. “That last strike? She didn’t even see it coming.”

“Flawless footwork,” another chimed in, handing me a towel like it was some ceremonial offering. “I swear, they should just give you the trophy and relic now.”

I let their words wash over me like the warm mist curling through the room. The faint metallic taste of the arena still sat on my tongue, Liora’s hit still remembered on my swollen cheek, but their praise was better, sweeter.

I peeled my shirt over my head, shaking out my hair so it fell in glossy waves over my bare shoulders. The mirror across the aisle caught the movement, catching the way my skin gleamed under the fluorescents.

Gods, I was beautiful.

One of the girls gave a little sigh, almost dreamy. “They’ll be talking about your fight for days.”

I arched a brow, enjoying the way they hung on my every move. “Of course they will,” I said, voice light, like it was simply stating a fact of nature.

Steam rolled thicker from the shower stalls, and I stepped out of my skirt, leaving it neatly folded for one of them to hang. The slap of bare feet on tile echoed faintly from the other end of the room, but I didn’t care who else was here. For the first time today, I felt the balance tipping back where it belonged.

Their eyes followed me as I padded toward the showers, towel slung low on my hips.

That’s when I heard them.

Two of my girls—well, former girls if they kept this up—whispering like schoolchildren in the next stall over. Their voices cut through the hiss of the shower like little knives, sharp and careless.

“Liora actually fights like a real… Alpha, not some wolfless” one said, her voice low but not low enough. “Did you see her style? Reminds me of a royal. And she didn’t even need a wolf.”

My nails curled against my palm until I could feel the faint pinch of my own skin.

“Plus…” The second girl hesitated, like she knew she was about to cross a line she couldn’t uncross. “She’s cold and scary, but… not nearly as bad as Bianca. I heard she saved Jessica at the dance too.”

A laugh. “Yeah, I heard that too! Bianca’s just… mean. Like, actually mean.”

The fear in their eyes was delicious. Pure. Honest. It told me they understood without me needing to say another word.

I straightened slowly, dragging my nails down the wall as I turned away, the screeching scrape chasing me down the aisle. “Good girls,” I said over my shoulder, letting the words drip with mocking approval.

They were still frozen when I left them in the steam, trembling in silence.

I made it two stalls down before my throat tightened. The heat was suffocating now, clinging to my skin, seeping into my lungs until every breath felt too heavy.

Liora this. Liora that.

I could still hear them. Still see the way people’s heads turned when she walked past. Not me. Her.

My chest hitched once, twice, but I swallowed it down, letting the water mask the sting in my eyes. My tears burned, never delicate, never pretty, so I tilted my head back and let them mix with the steam.

She was nothing. A wolfless nobody. And I would make sure everyone remembered that.