The ref lifted his hand for the win, and the crowd went wild. Just as I was about to get up and clap, someone gave him the mic.
“I dedicate this fight to you! I’ve finally found you! My mate. The woman I’ll marry! This win, and every win to come, belongs to you!”
My mate.
The words hit like a slap. For a second, I thought I’d misheard him, but the crowd’s reaction told me I hadn’t.
Heat surged up my throat, burning away every shred of composure I’d fought so hard to hold. My pulse pounded in my ears, and the bond mark on my wrist blazed like it was laughing at me.
He didn’t just say what I thought he did, did he? Nothere. Not in front ofeveryone. On national television.
I wanted to laugh, to tear the mic out of his hand and tell the world he was delusional, but all I could do was stand there, fiststight, nails biting into my palms, fury trembling just under my skin.
How fucking dare he.
How dare he look at me like that, like he owned something he hadn’t earned. I hadn’t even said two words to the man!
And the worst part? That stupid, traitorous burn under my skin didn’t fade. It pulsed harder, mocking me with every beat.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to say that to me?”
The words tore out of me before I could stop them, sharp and clean like the crack of a gunshot. Deslen Tacnon had barely finished his little speech before I was on my feet, fury flooding my veins. What the hell was he trying to do? Impress me? Humiliate me? Make me a spectacle?
Every eye in the room burned against my skin, and the heat of embarrassment licked up my throat, threatening to show on my face. I smothered it under the familiar weight of authority and rage. Anger was easier. Anger was safe.
My pulse raced, each beat syncing with the grind of my teeth as my hands curled into fists. The part of me that I’d locked away for tonight, the ruthless, unshakable Syndicate boss, was clawing to get out. It wanted to make an example of him. To show the world that I wasnotto be fucked with. It wanted blood, or at the very least, obedience.
National television be damned.
I should’ve walked away. Should’ve told Zeth to drag him to me later so I could handle it in private like Ezra would’ve done—cool, composed, and untouched by emotion—but I wasn’t Ezra. She was the ice queen who could slit your throat without raisingher voice. I was fire. Wild and uncontained. I burned too bright, felt too much. When I loved, I loved hard. When I raged, the world felt it.
And right now, I was shaking the whole damn room.
My jaw tightened as my heels clicked across the floor, my body moving before my brain caught up. Even in a dress and stilettos, I reached the cage and gripped the top bar, hauling myself over in one fluid motion. Chiffon billowed behind me, a wave of silky fabric cutting through the light. When my heels hit the mat, the sound echoed. The crowd was so quiet, the air itself was holding its breath.
Good. Let them watch.
Deslen stood there in the center, grinning. As I took him in, I realized that this man was gorgeous, and that only made me madder.
His skin was carved bronze, gleaming under the lights, jaw sharp enough to cut deep. Dark hair spilled past his shoulders in a mess of braids and loose strands that screamed wild freedom. Every inch of him radiated strength. And that scent—fuck.
It hit me the moment I got close. Sweet strawberries tangled with peppercorn spice and a hint of vanilla. It wrapped around me, warm and dizzying, flooding my lungs before I could brace for it. My wolf stirred, low and hungry, inhaling like she’d been starving her whole life for that scent alone.
I forced her back with a snarl. I didn’t care how good he smelled. He’d made a mistake. A public, unforgivable mistake.
“My mate,” he cooed, lips curling into a smile that dripped with something dangerously close to adoration.
I didn’t think. My hand shifted, claws bursting through skin as I grabbed him by the throat and yanked him down. His knees slammed into the mat with a heavy thud, the sound rippling through the crowd. Gasps followed, sharp and delicious. I half-expected him to fight back, to make me work for it, but he didn’t. He just looked at me with those soft yellow eyes, calm, unyielding, like submission was his choice and he reveled in it.
That only pissed me off more.
Tightening my grip, my claws biting into his skin, I cut off his air until his pulse fluttered weakly against my palm. I leaned in close enough for the cameras to lose the sound. “You made a mistake,” I whispered, my voice clipped. “You’re going to take it back, right now, or I’ll pop this pretty head clean off and end your career before it even starts.”
Pulling back just enough to look him dead in the eyes, I continued my threat. “Then I’ll reattach it and hang you in my gym by the wrists as my personal punching bag.”
The cameras couldn’t see the small tremor in my hand. Couldn’t hear the roar inside my chest. My wolf was clawing up my ribs, furious that I was threatening him, furious that I wasn’tlistening.Her growl tangled with my heartbeat, a soundless echo of need and protest.
And still, he didn’t flinch.
