Evaline:
A silence blanketed the arena like a heavy fog as the last match was announced. The crowd, rowdy just moments ago, grew still. The energy shifted—anticipation thickened the air. No one knew who I was. No one knew my name, my face, or my purpose. But they were all watching now.
**The crowd hushed.**
I stepped forward, feeling the weight of every single gaze glued to my form. My boots hit the dusty arena floor with a steady rhythm—*thump, thump, thump*—each step echoing in my ears like the sound of a war drum.
My opponent stood across from me, tall and poised.
Oscar Thorne.
The youngest of the four feared Alphas.
He looked as collected as ever, his broad shoulders relaxed, muscles loose. His face betrayed nothing, but there was something different about the way he stood. His eyes, a piercing shade of stormy grey, were fixed on me, sharp and narrow.
He rolled his shoulders casually, but the intensity of his gaze said something else.
He wasn't taking me lightly.
