Chapter 7 Proving Ground

• Raelin’s POV
• Nightborn is nothing like my old pack.
• There are no polished gates. No sculpted gardens. No fake smiles behind silk masks. Here, the wolves are sharper. Meaner. Quieter.
• And they all watch me like they’re trying to decide if I’m prey or predator.
• I keep my spine straight as I move through the courtyard, head high. The bruises are still fresh beneath my borrowed clothes, and my ribs ache if I breathe too deep—but I walk anyway.
• Because weakness isn’t an option. Not here.
• This place is carved into stone. Cut from the cliffs. Built to withstand siege, time, and betrayal. Wolves pace the upper balconies, dark eyes scanning for threats. No outsiders are allowed in—unless they have a death wish.
• And I’m the biggest outsider they’ve ever let through the gates.
• I reach the edge of the open arena. Dust and stone. Scorch marks from past fights. A small crowd is already gathering—half pretending they’re not watching. The rest? Not even bothering to hide it.
• I spot Caelan near the far wall. Black shirt, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always. His Beta, a tall wall of muscle named Verek, stands beside him.
• Caelan looks at me as I approach. Not up and down. Not like I’m fragile.
• Like I’m dangerous.
• “You’re healing fast,” he says.
• “Faster than most,” I answer, stopping in front of him.
• His mouth tilts—barely a smirk. “I’d like to see what you can do.”
• I raise a brow. “What, right now?”
• “When you’re ready.”
• I stretch my shoulder and roll my neck. “I feel good enough.”
• That earns a full smirk. A real one.
• “Fine,” he says. “You’ll spar my Beta.”
• Verek steps forward, cracking his knuckles. He’s bigger. Broader. That kind of still calm that usually means lethal. Most she-wolves would hesitate.
• I grin.
• “Let’s see if your Beta can bleed.”
• Caelan nods once, then backs away into the circle of wolves forming around the pit.
• Verek doesn’t waste time. He lunges, aiming low to knock me off balance.
• I spin sideways, but his forearm clips my ribs and I stumble. Pain lights up my side.
• He doesn’t pause.
• His fist swings toward my face—fast.
• I duck, pivot, and drive my elbow up into his gut. It lands with a satisfying thud, but he barely grunts.
• Shit.
• I dodge left, then right, trying to read him. He fights tight. Controlled. But I’ve fought bigger wolves with worse intentions. And I don’t care if I lose this fight—
• I’m not going down easy.
• Verek grabs my arm mid-strike and yanks me forward. I slam against his chest and twist, slamming my knee up between his thighs.
• He grunts.
• Let’s go.
• That’s all I need.
• I drop to the ground and sweep his legs out from under him. He hits hard. Dust flies.
• He’s up before I can pin him.
• His fist cracks across my jaw, knocking me back two steps. Blood fills my mouth.
• I spit.
• He lunges again, but I catch his wrist, twist, and drive my heel into the back of his knee. He goes down—just enough.
• I mount him fast, arm across his throat, knee at his ribs, snarling.
• “Yield,” I grit.
• He growls, tries to buck me off—but I hold steady.
• “Yield, Verek,” Caelan calls.
• A long beat.
• Then Verek taps once on the ground.
• Yield.
• I shove off him and rise, panting.
• The circle of wolves doesn’t cheer.
• They just stare.
• Hard. Calculating.
• But now?
• There’s something else in their eyes.
• Respect.
• Caelan steps forward, tossing me a cloth. “You fight like a wolf with nothing left to lose.”
• I wipe my mouth, blood smeared across my chin. “I don’t.”
• He nods once, and the corner of his mouth lifts again.
• And just like that—
• I belong here.
• Even if only a little.