The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

I stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching, needing answers that plain words couldn’t give me. What I saw in his gaze wasn’t betrayal or malice. It was just deep, raw concern. Reluctantly, I gave him a small nod.

Venom and I stepped onto the cushioned mats. My nerves buzzed like live wires under my skin. He dropped into a low, grounded stance knees bent, chest angled subtly toward me, fists raised. He looked like a damn coiled viper, perfectly ready to strike.

And then there was me. Standing stiff, legs spread awkwardly, knees bent, daggers gripped low and clumsy in my hands. I probably looked like I was trying to execute three completely different fighting styles at once and failing miserably at all of them.

I was definitely going to get my ass kicked.

I glanced at the crowd of watching wolves again. Some looked visibly tense, others intrigued, a few even excited. But when I finally found Zaliver’s face, everything else around us faded away. His expression was rock hard, his jaw set tight, but his eyes those stormy, ever-knowing blue eyes held quiet encouragement.

That single look made something deep inside me steel itself. I couldn’t embarrass myself. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

"You both ready?" I asked my wolf and the ancient beast within me, who had both gone dead quiet the second my feet touched the mat.

"Always. We’ve got your back," they answered in unison, their twin voices calm, unified, and laser-focused.

And just like that, something powerful surged through me. Something raw. Something ancient. My whole body hummed with the sheer strength of them of all of us blending together. It was far more than just muscle, quick speed, or heightened senses. It was power. Pure, instinctive power that didn’t even need a name.

My vision flashed with a spark of silver, and I felt the physical shift in my body. It was subtle, but definite. My legs adjusted on their own, my weight balancing effortlessly on the balls of my feet. My arms repositioned slightly, held more open, more reactive. My spine straightened naturally. My head tilted, and a slow, confident smirk curled on my lips.

Venom saw it happen. His golden eyes sharpened instantly, the thin black slit at their center narrowing. He dipped his chin, silently telling me, come on.

"Yeah, no thanks," I said sweetly, dripping sarcasm, my voice sounding smoother and far stronger than before.

He moved.

The moment his foot left the ground, the entire world stilled. It was like the whole room held its breath. My heart didn’t race it beat with slow, absolute certainty. My mind fell into a quiet, icy place where useless emotions didn’t weigh me down. All that existed was the fight ahead. The goal. The power humming hot in my blood. The silence before the storm.

And then, the dance began.

Venom was fast far faster than I expected. And from the way he charged, I knew he wasn’t aiming to hold back. If I hadn’t been on high alert, if I’d hesitated by even a heartbeat, he could’ve landed a strike that would’ve sent me straight to the med bay.

He flashed toward me, a dark blur of pure movement. Most people would’ve instinctively backed off at the sight of a predator charging like that especially a deadly snake shifter built like him but I held my ground, my spine locked in readiness. The moment his hand darted toward me, I let my eyes sweep sharply over him. It wasn’t something I consciously planned to do, it just... happened. He was taller than me by a lot, and his open stance left his right side slightly exposed. If I were just a little faster, I could’ve exploited it. But I wasn’t going to get there in time.

The sudden shift in air pressure was the only warning I got. His hand sliced aggressively toward my chest, and with barely a single breath to spare, I twisted away, using my upper body to dodge. I dropped my weight onto my back leg and swung my other one up, hooking it tightly around his knee.

It knocked us both off-balance for a split second, but that didn’t matter we weren’t fighting for stability. My leg trapped his, completely throwing off his movement. He reached for my shoulders with both hands, trying to pin me in place while his knee drove up toward my ribs like a battering ram. I shoved hard against his chest, and we tumbled heavily to the mat.

Even mid-fall, he didn’t let up. His knee was still climbing toward me, so I loosened my hold and shifted fast, just as his back smacked hard into the floor. I threw my weight sideways in a fluid roll and came out crouched, already searching for him.

He rolled too, smooth and silent, coming to his feet with a terrifying grace that spoke of brutal, relentless training. I got to my feet a bit more slowly, keeping my guard high. Both daggers in my hands felt like dead weight against his kind of speed. My approach shifted without me even realizing it. I wasn’t trying to stab anymore.

He was quick too quick. If he got close enough to wrap those massive arms around me, I’d be finished. I rapidly ran through the odds in my head.

I couldn’t match his raw speed without it turning into a frustrating game of tag. No, I had to use what I had my smaller size, my tighter agility. And just one good hit. That’s all I needed.

I studied him closely. He was built like a heavy tank shoulders wide, solid all over. His stance was perfect, evenly grounded. No obvious weaknesses. But every body has a limit, and I was going to find his.

He lunged again, and I waited. Just until the very last moment.

Then I spun into a swift cartwheel, letting my body pass just inches from his lunging form. While upside down, I jabbed one dagger cleanly into the soft spot right behind his knee.

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