Page 110 of The Blood Moon Oath

Torin is already moving, his hand gripping Kael’s arm as he hauls him to his feet. “Come on, Alpha,” Torin says, his voice teasing but steady, the kind of grounding Kael always seems to need in these moments. “This isn’t how you go out. Not like this.”

Kael exhales sharply, his breath misting in the cold air, and I watch as his stance shifts. The raw anger bleeding out through the bond is replaced by something else—focus. Determination. His blade drags through the dirt as he steadies himself, his shoulders squaring.

He meets my eyes again, and there’s something different in his expression. A flicker of clarity, of composure. He nods once, a silent acknowledgment. I nod back, relief flooding through me.

Kael steps forward, his voice cutting through thenoise of the crowd like a blade. “Look at him!” he bellows, pointing at Rothgar with all the authority of an Alpha. “This is your leader? A coward who won’t face the trials but sneaks around to murder his challenger in the shadows?”

The crowd stills, murmurs rippling through the gathered warlocks. Eyes turn to Rothgar, who stands with his blade pressed against Sable’s throat. He sneers, but I can see the flicker of uncertainty in his expression.

Kael presses on, his voice steady despite the blood dripping down his side. “You think he’s fit to lead you? A man too afraid to fight, too weak to stand in the ring? This is your champion?”

Torin, ever the showman, laughs loudly and slaps Kael’s shoulder. “Pathetic, isn’t it?” he says, his voice carrying. Kael winces but not enough for the crowd to see. “I’d almost feel bad for him if he weren’t such a snake.”

The crowd’s murmurs grow louder, turning into shouts of discontent. Rothgar’s grip on Sable falters for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. With a sharp twist, she breaks free, spinning around to face him.

Sable’s foot connects with Rothgar’s knee, sending him stumbling backward. Before he can recover, she’s on him, his own blade in her hand as she steps onto his chest, pinning him to the ground.

The crowd erupts as she presses the blade to his throat, her voice clear and sharp. “I’ll fight you,” she declares, her gaze burning with defiance. “In the Trials, where everyone will see just how weak you really are.”

Rothgar snarls, but there’s fear in his eyes now. The crowd isn’t with him anymore—they’re with her. The warlocks roar their approval, their chants of her name rising into the night.

I stay in the shadows, my pulse racing as I watch her stand over him, fierce and unyielding. She’s magnificent,every inch the warrior I always knew she was. And gods help me, I’m hard as a rock for her right now.

Focus, Finn. There are trials ahead, and she’s counting on all of us. But as I step out of the shadows and move toward her, one thing becomes clear. Sable isn’t just our challenger, our ally, our mate.

She’s our reckoning.

Chapter

Sixty

SABLE

The roar of the crowd feels like it’s pressing against my skull, a cacophony of voices chanting for blood. My blood. Rothgar’s blood. Someone’s blood. The warlocks encircle the ring, their faces twisted in anticipation, eyes gleaming in the torchlight. My heart thuds against my ribs like a war drum, but I push the fear down. There’s no room for it here. Not now.

I glance at Kael and Torin, their towering figures flanking me like unmovable shadows. Finn’s not in the ring, but I can feel him, his presence like a steady hand on my back even though he’s standing just outside the fight. His voice slides into my mind, calm and commanding.

“Breathe, Sable. Focus. You’ve got this.”

I nod slightly, exhaling the tension that’s coiled in my chest. Rothgar steps forward, his sneer cutting across the space between us like a knife. He’s bigger than me, bulkier, his magiccoiling around him in a way that makes the air feel heavy. But I’ve faced worse. I’ve survived worse.

“I’ll take him,” I say, stepping forward. Kael’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm like a vice.

“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he says, his voice low but firm.

I pull free, turning to look at him. “Yes, I do. This is my fight.”

Torin smirks, his blade resting lazily against his shoulder. “Don’t get yourself killed, kitten. I don’t want to have to clean up the mess.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, stepping into the center of the ring.

Rothgar’s eyes narrow as I approach, his lips curling into a feral grin. “So the little witch thinks she can take me on? Alone?”

I don’t answer. Words are useless now. Instead, I slide into a fighting stance, my hand hovering over the blade strapped to my thigh. The crowd hushes, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Rothgar lunges first, his blade slicing through the air with brutal precision. I dodge, my movements sharp and practiced, and his strike bites into the dirt where I stood a heartbeat ago. My counter is swift—I draw my blade and slash upward, catching his arm. Blood beads along the cut, but it’s shallow, and he barely flinches.

His magic flares, a pulse of energy that slams into me like a battering ram. I stagger back, the breath knocked from my lungs, but I keep my footing. Finn’s voice slips into my mind again.

---