CHAPTER 79: THE GAME

Hailee’s POV

I was weaving through the crowd, my eyes locked on Nathan’s retreating figure, when someone suddenly stepped in front of me.

"Callum," I breathed, stopping short.

He was casually dressed in a black hoodie and a blank tank. Since he wasn’t from our pack, he decided not to join in the games. His eyes scanned my face, then flicked toward the tunnel where Nathan had just disappeared.

"I know where you’re going," he said gently.

"I need to talk to him," I replied quickly. "Now. Before it gets worse—"

"No." His voice was firm but calm. "Not now. He’s got a combat fight in less than an hour. You know how focused he needs to be for that. He’s not in the right headspace to talk about... us."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look in Callum’s eyes stopped me.

He wasn’t being controlling. He was being protective of me.

"After the games," he said, softer now. "Talk to him then. I promise... he’ll listen. But not right now, Hailee."

I sighed, deflating just a little. "Okay. After the games."

Callum gave a small nod, then reached for my hand and gently tugged me back toward the bleachers. He guided me to our seats and handed me a warm paper bag of popcorn.

"I figured you hadn’t eaten," he said with a faint grin. "You get cranky when you don’t eat."

That made me smile, just a little. I took the bag and leaned back as the crowd started buzzing again. The football teams were entering the field now. I spotted Dane immediately, suited up and stretching on the sidelines. He caught my eye for a brief second, smiled, then jogged to join the others.

Nathan wasn’t there.

He must’ve gone straight to prep for the combat match.

I tried to focus as the football game kicked off, the energy in the stadium rising with every passing second. Our pack started strong, moving in sync like they’d been training for years. Dane was fast, skilled, and sharp—he dominated the field, calling out plays and encouraging his teammates with quick signals.

By the second half, we were ahead by two goals. And by the time the whistle blew, the score was 4–1.

We won.

The crowd went wild, cheers erupting like thunder all around us. I clapped and shouted, pride blooming in my chest as I watched Dane grin and high-five his teammates.

"It seems you’re only cheering for Dane." Callum suddenly said beside me, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Are you jealous?" I teased.

He scoffed and pulled me into his left arm, wrapping it around my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You wish I was jealous," he muttered, but his tone was light, teasing.

I chuckled, leaning slightly into him. Callum turned slightly, looking down at me.

"You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Hailee," he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse.

I looked up, my heart skipping. "Tell me," I whispered.

His eyes searched mine, and before I could say another word, he leaned down and kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed or demanding, it was slow, soft, and full of something that made my chest ache.

I kissed him back.

Just for a moment.

Then I opened my eyes... and saw Nathan.

He was across the field, standing just past the player’s tunnel in his combat gear—black and silver. His eyes were fixed on us, hard and unreadable. But the frown carved into his face told me everything I needed to know.

My breath caught.

I pulled away from Callum’s arms without thinking, the guilt making it hard to stay close to him.

Callum noticed.

He followed my gaze and exhaled. "Damn."

Nathan didn’t move. He just stared, like the kiss had confirmed everything. Then he turned without a word and walked back toward the tunnel.

Panic surged in my chest as I watched Nathan turn away.

I shot to my feet. "I need to go after him—"

Callum gently grabbed my wrist. "Hailee. Breathe."

My heart was racing, my mind spiraling.

"You saw his face. He saw us, Callum. I—I shouldn’t have—"

"Hey," he said firmly, stepping in front of me. "Don’t do this to yourself. He’ll be fine. He just needs to fight. Right now, that’s all that matters."

I closed my eyes, trying to ease the fear inside me. Callum’s hand found mine again, comforting. And even though I nodded and sat back down, my eyes never left the field where the combat stage was already being set.

The crowd’s cheers changed—it was louder, more intense.

It was combat time.

Nathan was announced, and the cheers were loud. His name echoed across the stadium like a battle cry. Girls screamed louder than ever, some waving banners with his name painted in bold, glittery strokes.

I clenched the edge of my seat, forcing my face into something neutral.

He stepped into the ring, sword strapped to his back, shoulders squared, every inch of him looking like a warrior carved from stone.

His opponent from the other pack attacked first, but Nathan was faster—so fast he was nothing but a blur.

One move.

One dodge.

One clean slash.

The opponent dropped to his knees, his sword clattering to the floor.

First round: Nathan.

The next rounds came in waves, each fighter more aggressive than the last. But Nathan... he didn’t falter. He was a beast in human skin, relentless and deadly. His sword cut through the air like lightning, and every time he struck, the crowd erupted like thunder.

"Holy shit," someone behind me whispered. "He’s not even using his wolf form."

I swallowed hard.

I always knew Nathan was a good swordsman—but this? This was something else. He was fighting like his life depended on it. Like he was trying to bury something with every strike.

With every round, the crowd roared louder. The girls screamed his name again and again.

"I love you, Nathan!"

"Date me, Nathan!"

"He’s so hot!"

Their voices crawled under my skin like vines, tightening around my ribs. I didn’t react. I didn’t blink. But the jealousy curled low in my stomach, sour and sharp.

The final round came.

And Nathan stood at the center of the arena like a storm waiting to be unleashed.

His opponent was no joke—older, more experienced, with a longer blade and heavier armor. But it didn’t matter.

Nathan dismantled him in less than thirty seconds.

A roll, a block, a feint—and then slam.

His opponent’s sword was out of his hand, and Nathan’s blade was pointed right at his throat.

The whistle blew.

Nathan won.

The stadium lost its mind. The pack went wild.

People were on their feet, shouting, howling, and chanting his name. Banners waved, voices clashed, and Nathan stood there, chest rising and falling, his eyes sweeping the crowd like he didn’t care for the celebration.

And then... his eyes found mine.