Betrayed by an Alpha claimed by a Lycan King (Sage and Titus) novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113 

SAGE 

I hadn’t slept at all last night. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind spiraled into worst–case scenarios. I couldn’t stop worrying about Holt–about what would happen when the sun nally rose and the duel began. 

The sky was still cloaked in darkness, but the entire pack seemed to be alive with tension. Everyone was restless, their anticipation thick in the air as they waited for the fight to begin. It felt like the world itself was holding its breath. 

As I made my way to the main hall, my stomach churned with uncase. My steps felt heavy, like each one carried the weight of what was to come. I turned a corner and almost bumped straight into Elara. 

“Sage,” she said, concern etched into her face. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m okay,” I replied automatically, forcing a smile. But the truth was far from that, and I could tell she saw through me. 

Elara studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I don’t know how you’re doing this,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes. Two men you care about, fighting to the death…” Her words trailed off, and her eyes were full of sympathy. 

I let out a long, shaky sigh, my shoulders slumping. “They’re both so stubborn,” I muttered. “Neither one of them will back 

down.” 

Elara placed a comforting hand on my arm. “There’s nothing you can do now, Sage,” she said gently. “This is out of your hands. All we can do is hope–and pray–that it doesn’t end the way we fear.” 

Her words settled heavily on me, but I nodded. She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I couldn’t control what was about to happen. 

Still, the thought of standing by, helpless, while they fought… It tore me apart. 

Elara gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s hope for the best.” 

What am I expecting from this? One of them has to die, and no matter who it is, there’s no good that will come out of it. The thought tightened my chest, but I forced my feet to move forward. 

We walked together to the main arena, where the fight was set to take place. The closer we got, the louder the murmurs of the gathered crowd became. The tension was palpable, buzzing in the air like an unseen storm. 

The arena was a large, circular space, surrounded by tiered seating that rose like a coliseum. The seats were already filled with pack members, their eyes fixed on the open ring in the center. Some looked excited, eager for the spectacle, while others had expressions of unease, as if they too felt the weight of what was about to happen. 

In the middle of the arena was a dirt–covered ground, simple yet brutal in its purpose. No fancy decorations, no illusions- just a space meant for one thing: combat. Torches lined the perimeter, their flames casting flickering shadows that made the place feel even more ominous. 

I spotted Titus and Holt in opposite corners of the ring, each preparing in silence. Titus stood tall, his face a mask of determination, his posture radiating strength and control. His sword hung by his side, glinting in the low light. 

Holt, on the other hand, was pacing slightly, his hands clenched into fists as if he were trying to focus his energy. He looked calm, but I knew him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. 

They didn’t look at each other. Neither of them even glanced toward the crowd. They were both lost in their own thoughts, preparing themselves for what was to come. 

The sight of them on opposite sides of the arena, knowing what was about to happen, sent a pang through my chest. This 

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Chapter 113 

was it. There was no turning back now. 

Elara stayed by my side, her presence steadying me as I took a seat near the edge of the ring. “It’s going to start soon,” she said quietly. 

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. My hands gripped the edge of the wooden bench beneath me as I kept my gaze locked on Titus and Holt. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. 

A loud drumbeat echoed through the arena, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. The Alpha of the Silver River Pack stepped forward, standing just outside the ring. His voice boomed as he addressed everyone gathered. 

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“Today, we witness a test of the strength of two powerful alphas,” he announced, his tone commanding. “Two warriors enter this ring. Only one will leave victorious. May the Moon Gods honor the winner and grant peace to the fallen.” 

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices filling the air, but I barely heard them. My heart pounded as Titus and Holt finally stepped into the center of the arena, their gazes meeting for the first time. 

It was about to begin. 

The moment Titus and Holt stepped into the center of the arena, the atmosphere shifted. The murmurs of the crowd fell into a tense hush, replaced by an eerie stillness that settled over the coliseum–like arena. The only sound was the steady crackle of the torches, their flames dancing in the faint morning light. 

Titus unsheathed his sword, its blade gleaming with an almost menacing light as it caught the flicker of the torches. His movements were deliberate and precise, as though every action was part of a carefully choreographed dance. His gaze never left Holt, sharp and unyielding. 

Holt, on the other hand, seemed less rigid. He rolled his shoulders back, his stance loose yet poised. He didn’t draw a weapon, instead opting to rely on his agility and strength. His eyes, usually warm and approachable, were now cold and calculating as they locked with Titus’s. 

The Alpha of the Silver River Pack raised his hand, signaling for silence. “The terms of this duel are clear,” he declared, his voice carrying through the arena. “This fight will end only when one of you yields or falls. The victor will prove their loyalty and secure the support of this pack.” 

My stomach churned as the weight of those words settled in. My hands trembled slightly, and I clenched them into fists to steady myself. 

Holt turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward the stands. For a brief second, his eyes met mine. He smiled at me as if he’s assuring me that he’s fine. Before I could even begin to process it, he turned back to face Titus. 

When I turned to Titus, his eyes were locked onto mine. His expression was unreadable. 

The Alpha’s hand dropped, and with it, the silence shattered. 

Titus lunged first, his sword cutting through the air with deadly precision. Holt sidestepped, moving quickly to dodge the strike, his reflexes sharp and calculated. The blade missed him by inches, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he used the momentum to get behind Titus, landing a solid blow to his side with his fist. 

The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps, their voices filling the arena. My heart raced, each thud echoing in my ears as I watched them clash. 

Titus recovered almost instantly, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Holt ducked, narrowly avoiding the blade, but this time Titus was ready. He shifted his weight and drove his knee up, catching Holt square in the chest. 

Holt stumbled back, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp. But even then, he didn’t back down. He straightened, his breaths heavy but his resolve unbroken. 

They circled each other like predators, their movements deliberate, their eyes locked. This wasn’t just a fight–it was a battle 

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Chapter 113 

of wills, a test of who would break first. 

I could barely breathe as I watched. Every strike, every dodge, every blow felt like it reverberated through my chest. I wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but my voice seemed trapped in my throat. 

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They clashed again, and this time the sound of steel meeting flesh rang out, sharp and unforgiving. Holt grunted in pain as Titus’s blade grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his sleeve, but he didn’t falter. 

He retaliated quickly, his fist connecting with Titus’s jaw in a brutal punch that sent him staggering back a step. 

The crowd roared in approval, their excitement feeding the intensity of the fight. 

But all I could see was the blood, the pain, the sheer determination in both their eyes. 

And all I could think was that no matter who won, this fight would leave scars far deeper than any wound. 

The tension in the arena was unbearable, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t escape. The dirt beneath Titus and Holt was stained with blood, proof of how brutal their fight had been. Both of them were wounded, their breathing ragged, but Titus still stood tall, his sword raised high, ready to strike the final blow. 

Holt lay sprawled on the ground, his chest heaving as he looked up at Titus. There wasn’t a trace of fear in his eyes–just acceptance. He knew this was the end. 

From the stands, the Alpha of the Silver River Pack leaned forward, his booming voice slicing through the silence. “Finish it, Titus! End him and claim your victory!” 

My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My hands flew to my mouth as I gasped, unable to tear my eyes away. Titus’s sword glinted in the light, streaked with blood as he prepared to deliver the final strike. I couldn’t bear to see it happen. The thought of Titus killing Holt was too much to endure. Shutting my eyes tight, I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks as I waited for the inevitable. 

The sharp sound of steel cutting through the air made me flinch, every nerve in my body screaming in dread. But then… nothing.