I frowned. “I’m not an omega.”
Her grin widened, like I’d just said something funny. “No. But I want to see if you’re as strong as you pretend.”
Before I could reply, she waved her hand, and one of the trainers shouted my name. Every head turned—parents, fighters, omegas.
A tall woman stepped forward. She had wide shoulders, tight braids, and a stare that didn’t blink.
“This is Mara,” the trainer announced. “She’s your opponent.”
Mara’s lips curled into a grin, but it wasn’t friendly. Fiona stayed nearby, arms folded, clearly ready to enjoy whatever was about to happen.
The fight started without warning. Mara rushed me, her fist swinging for my head. I ducked, but her elbow slammed into my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. I stumbled back, coughing, the copper taste of blood fill
