After My Mate Betrayed, I Fought Back Chapter 05

After My Mate Betrayed, I Fought Back Chapter 05

The tension in the room shifted as three Betas stepped forward from the circle, their faces twisted with disdain. I recognized them immediately-Jackson from the Crescent Moon Pack, Ethan from Silverfang, and Derek from our own Moonveil. All three were known enforcers, wolves who used their strength to intimidate rather than protect.

“Perhaps,” Jackson drawled, cracking his knuckles, “the little Omega needs to be reminded of her place before the ceremony.”

Madison’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “Excellent idea. Show her what real wolves look like.”

The three men formed a triangle around me, each releasing their auras simultaneously-a technique designed to overwhelm and force submission. To an ordinary wolf, especially one of supposedly low rank, the combined pressure would have driven them to their knees, possibly even rendering them unconscious.

I felt the weight of their power like a gentle breeze against my skin.

“Kneel,” Derek commanded, his voice laced with an Alpha tone that made several onlookers

flinch.

I remained standing, my posture unchanged, my breathing steady.

“I said KNEEL!” he roared, pushing his aura harder.

Ethan circled behind me. “Maybe she needs physical persuasion,” he suggested, reaching for

my arm.

Five years of restraint. Five years of pretending to be weak, of enduring disrespect, of keeping

my true nature hidden.

Enough.

Ethan’s fingers never reached my skin. In a motion too fast for most eyes to follow, I caught his wrist, twisted, and used his own momentum to flip him completely over. He landed hard on his back, the impact forcing the air from his lungs in a pained whoosh.

Derek lunged at me, his face contorted with rage. I sidestepped with practiced ease, delivering a precise strike to his solar plexus that doubled him over. Before he could recover, my elbow connected with the base of his skull-not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but sufficient to send him crumpling to the floor.

Jackson, more cautious after witnessing his companions’ swift defeat, circled me warily. He

feinted left, then attacked from the right, pulling a concealed blade from his boot. The silver glinted in the light-a weapon designed to cause serious harm to a werewolf.

I didn’t bother dodging. Instead, I moved directly toward him, catching his wrist and applying pressure to a specific nerve point. His fingers spasmed open, dropping the knife. I caught it midair with my free hand, spun it once, and embedded it in the wooden floor between his feet.

“That,” I said quietly, “was very stupid.”

With a twist of his arm and a sweep of my leg, Jackson joined his friends on the floor, groaning in pain.

The entire confrontation had lasted less than fifteen seconds.

Silence fell over the hall like a heavy blanket. No one moved. No one spoke. Several wolves had backed away, pressing themselves against the walls as if trying to disappear. The scent of fear permeated the air, sharp and acrid.

I stood in the center of the three fallen Betas, not even breathing hard. My movements had been precise, economical-not the wild, adrenaline-fueled actions of someone defending themselves, but the calculated techniques of a trained fighter.

Madison’s smug expression had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock. Her perfectly manicured hand covered her mouth, and for the first time, I detected a trace of fear in her scent.

“What… what are you?” she whispered.

I looked at her, really looked at her, allowing a glimpse of my true self to show in my eyes. “Someone you should have never crossed.”

Dylan had gone completely pale, his earlier bravado evaporated like morning dew. He took a step back, then another, his eyes darting toward the exit.

“Don’t,” I said softly, not even turning to look at him. “You wanted a ceremony. You’ll get one.”

The crowd remained frozen, the atmosphere electric with tension and dawning realization. The wolves who had gathered to witness my humiliation were beginning to understand that they had stumbled into something far more dangerous than pack politics.

Something in my demeanor-perhaps the lethal grace with which I now held myself, no longer bothering to slouch or appear smaller-triggered primal warning signals in every wolf present. Instinct told them what their conscious minds were still struggling to grasp: a predator stood among them, one they had foolishly believed to be prey.

And the hunt was just beginning.