The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 121

She came back with a snap kick toward my ribs, but I caught her ankle and shoved her off-balance, marching in fast, closing the distance. The crowd’s roar hit a fever pitch, cheers, whistles, and the occasional scream for blood.

I aimed and hit right for her pretty little gut. I had her.

Then—she made her move.

It was subtle, like a snake shedding its skin. A sharp twist of her ankle, a quick suck of breath, she dropped, and my blow, pulled at the last second to try and save it, met her cheek.

She yelped, flying back, way farther then I could have sent her with a pulled punch, clutching her cheek.

Blood. A perfect, dramatic line of it, just where my last strike had landed.

The referee was at her side instantly. “What happened?”

“She—” Bianca’s voice trembled with manufactured outrage, the perfect blend of injured dignity and righteous fury “—used an illegal elbow. Right to the ribs! That dirty little Wolfless! They fight with no honor!"

I barked a laugh before I could stop myself. “Oh, please.”

The crowd erupted into chaos, half shouting for justice, half calling her a liar.

“You saw it,” she insisted, wide-eyed, one hand pressed delicately against her swelling cheek. “It was deliberate!”

The referee’s jaw tightened. His eyes slid to me, then back to her. “Point to Bianca. This round is hers. We have our winnner”

For a moment, all I heard was the pounding of my own heartbeat. No way. This…snake.

I was two second away from exploding when I remembered, this scrimmage isn’t the only way to make it through the screening. I had more changes.

So, I gave her the slowest, most sarcastic clap I could muster.

“What a brave, brave warrior,” I said, letting the venom coat every syllable.

That one even surprised me. The test was a weighted pillar lift, raise it from a crouch and hold for three counts. Some competitors half-shifted for power. I stayed human, braced my feet, and thought of every stubborn door I had forced open in my life. My arms shook, but the pillar rose. The crowd roared. I held until the official called time. Third place. I would take it.

Tactics: 1st place.

That was the one I knew would rattle them. A staged capture-the-flag in the inner arena, four teams at once, one flag in the center. Most charged in swinging. I waited, let two teams wear each other down, then slipped in, took the flag, and climbed the scaffolding to cut across the rafters. The officials had not expected anyone to go up. By the time they noticed, I was already planting the flag.

My name climbed the list, passing wolves twice my size and strength. Eyes followed me, some impressed, most irritated.

Bianca’s scores appeared lower down. Respectable, but nowhere near mine. She had barely scraped into the qualifying cut. And still, thanks to her staged “illegal move,” she had a win over me on the record. The thought almost made me laugh. Almost.

The crowd roared again when the final rankings locked in. I turned from the board before anyone could see my face. I would not give Bianca the satisfaction of a smile.

I was in. And whether they cheered or booed, I had made it to the real stage.