The sacred fighting pit was carved deep into the cliffs like an open wound in the earth. Torches blazed around the stone circle as the entire Blackwood Pack and rival factions gathered under the blood moon. The air was thick with aggression, bloodlust, and the clashing scents of powerful Alphas.
Damien Blackwood stood at the edge of the pit like a god of war — shirtless, powerful muscles gleaming with oil and sweat, silver threading his dark hair, eyes burning molten gold. His scent dominated everything: dark sandalwood, whiskey, and raw, unchallenged Alpha power.
I stood beside him, heavily pregnant, wearing only a thin black silk slip that clung to my swollen belly and barely covered the c*m still leaking down my thighs from the brutal breeding he’d given me just hours earlier.
Sophia
