Maria.

Darren was an asshole.

The thought didn’t come gently. It came sharp and bitter, rising from somewhere deep in my chest where his earlier words still lingered like a stain I couldn’t scrub away. I remembered his warning, low, deliberate, edged with something that hadn’t sounded like mere confidence.

It had sounded like a promise.

And now, watching him ride, watching the way he leaned forward in the saddle with that smug determination carved into his features, irritation crawled beneath my skin like fire ants. My jaw tightened. My nails pressed crescent moons into my palms.

He had meant every word.

The thunder of hooves swallowed the air as the horses surged forward. The ground trembled beneath the stands, dust rising in soft golden clouds under the harsh light of the afternoon sun. My gaze darted frantically between the three riders as Darren finally caught up to Noah and Damien.

They were neck and neck now.

Three powerful horses charging down the same lane, muscles straining, nostrils flaring, breath bursting out in harsh white clouds. Leather reins pulled taut. Veins standing out along their mounts’ sleek necks.

They were only inches away from the finish line.

Inches.

My heart skipped violently, missing a beat before slamming hard against my ribs as panic shot through me without warning. My fingers curled against the railing in front of me, knuckles turning white.

Noah.

He was so close.

Too close.

I couldn’t breathe.

The world seemed to narrow until there was nothing but that single stretch of track and the three men racing across it. The cheers around me blurred into a distant roar, distorted and muffled like I was underwater.

I closed my eyes.

I couldn’t watch.

My lashes pressed tightly together as I bowed my head just slightly, lips moving soundlessly.

Moon Goddess... please.

Please.

Make Noah win.

The prayer wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t poetic. It was desperate. Raw. It came from the fragile, trembling place inside me that didn’t want to see him hurt. That didn’t want to see him lose.

I prayed deeply within my heart, repeating his name over and over in my mind as if that alone could shield him.

Noah.

Noah.

Noah.

For a split second, everything felt suspended.

And then...the sharp, piercing sound of a horse’s neigh tore through the air.

It wasn’t the triumphant cry of victory.

It was pain.

Loud. Agonizing. Sudden.

My eyes flew open.

The next second unfolded too fast and too slow at the same time. I saw the violent jerk of movement. The abrupt shift. A powerful body losing balance.

Noah fell.

He fell instantly to the ground.

"Oh no!" I screamed.

The cry ripped from my throat before I could stop it, raw and unrestrained. A few heads turned in my direction, startled by the desperation in my voice, but I didn’t care. I didn’t notice them beyond the faint blur of movement.

My entire world had collapsed onto that patch of dirt. I didn’t need to see what had happened. I didn’t need proof.

I knew.

Darren.

The certainty settled in my stomach like a stone, cold, heavy and furious.

This wasn’t coincidence.

It couldn’t be.

My hands clenched tightly at my sides, fingers curling so hard my nails bit painfully into my skin. Heat rushed up my spine, anger mixing violently with fear.

How dare he?

How dare he touch him?

How dare he...before the fury could completely consume me, I felt warmth against my hand.

Vincent.

He gently wrapped his fingers around mine, prying them loose from the tight fists I hadn’t even realized I was still holding. His touch was calm. Steady. He caressed my fingers slowly, soothingly, as if trying to ease the tremor running through me.

"It’s okay," he murmured softly beside me, his voice cutting through the chaos just enough to anchor me. "There are seven more rounds to go."

Seven more rounds.

The words echoed in my head, but they did nothing to calm the violent pounding of my heart.

Seven more rounds meant seven more chances.

Seven more chances for Darren to do something like this again.

My gaze remained locked on the track, my chest rising and falling too quickly. Dust still lingered in the air. Voices rose in confusion. The energy had shifted completely, what had been excitement only seconds ago was now tension.

I swallowed hard, my fingers still trapped within Vincent’s comforting hold.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t breathe properly.

Because all I could think was...please let him be okay.

Because all this was so annoying.

The frustration didn’t sit quietly inside me,it throbbed, hot and relentless, tightening my chest until I could barely draw a steady breath. My teeth sank into my lower lip as I stared at the track, fury and helplessness tangling together in a way that made my stomach churn.

At this point, I subconsciously wished Damien would win the race instead of Darren.

The realization startled me.

Just moments ago, I had been praying for Noah. Now my desperation had shifted. I didn’t care who won anymore, anyone but Darren.

Anyone but him.

Because the thought of Darren standing victorious, of that arrogant smirk spreading across his face, of his pride swelling from a win that didn’t feel clean... it made my skin crawl.

I would rather live in this current pit, this suffocating uncertainty, this fear, this humiliation, than go back to hell with Darren.

Back to his cold voice.

Back to his suffocating presence.

Back to the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

My hands trembled slightly where they rested, my nails biting into my palms again. The noise around me felt distant and sharp all at once, like shards of glass pressing against my skull.

But it seemed the Moon Goddess didn’t love me.

The sharp cry of a horse pierced through the air again.

Not the rhythmic thunder of hooves.

Not the triumphant roar of strength.

Pain.

The sound tore across the field, violent and wrong, slicing through the tension like a blade.

My head snapped up.

And before my mind could fully process it....Damien was sent falling to the ground instantly.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One second he was riding strong, steady, pushing forward with determination carved into every line of his body. The next, he was airborne, ripped from the saddle as if some invisible force had struck him.

The crowd gasped as one.

Then a loud scream tore through the stands.

"Oh no! Alpha Damien..."

The cry was raw, laced with disbelief and panic.

"Our pack just lost!"

"No way, we can’t lose to them in our territory!"

"What’s wrong with the horses?"

Their voices overlapped, clashing, rising and crashing against each other in waves of outrage and confusion.

But inside my head, it was worse.

Because while they shouted questions aloud, my thoughts were screaming accusations.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t coincidence.

Two Alphas falling in the same round? Horses neighing in pain before collapsing their riders?

My heart pounded erratically against my ribs.

Darren.

The name echoed like a curse in my mind.

I didn’t need proof. I didn’t need to see his hands do it.

I just knew.

The spikes I caught on his shoes has done the work. I could easily guess it, the closer he got to them, the closer the spikes on his shoes were to the horses, causing them to carry out in pain.

The noise from the crowd grew louder, anger beginning to replace shock. The tension in the air thickened, heavy and suffocating. Dust still hung above the track like a ghost of what had just happened.

And then...The drum was hit.

Once.

The deep, hollow sound reverberated across the field, silencing some of the chaos.

Twice.

It felt like a countdown to something I didn’t want to hear.

Thrice.

The final beat seemed to settle the matter, firm and unquestionable.

A flag was raised high into the air.

Bright.

Unmistakable.

"And this round comes to an end, with Alpha Darren appearing as the winner," Beta Torin announced.

His voice carried across the arena, amplified and steady, as if nothing unusual had happened. As if two powerful Alphas hadn’t just been thrown to the ground in the most suspicious way possible.

As if this outcome had been earned.

My heart sank.

It didn’t drop gently.

It plummeted.

A hollow ache opened in my chest, spreading outward until my limbs felt heavy. The words echoed cruelly in my ears.

Alpha Darren.

Winner.

The crowd’s reaction was divided, some furious, some stunned into silence, but I couldn’t focus on them anymore. My gaze remained fixed on the track, my throat tight, my emotions a tangled mess of dread and disbelief.

He had won.

Of course he had.

The Moon Goddess hadn’t answered me.

Not when I prayed for Noah.

Not when I silently hoped for Damien.

Not even when I wished, desperately, that anyone else would stand at the finish line first.

Instead, Darren stood alone.

Victorious.