Marked Twice by the Alpha King Chapter 27

**Ava's POV**

The entrance of Warrior Academy's Honor Hall made my battle-worn training gear feel like trash. I'd thrown on a simple training top and black combat pants, while everyone else looked ready for a damn parade—fancy robes and warrior getups that cost more than I'd make in six months.

The walls were lined with weapons from past champions, glinting under fancy lights. Pack flags hung everywhere, splashing color against the stone. Everyone was amped up—after the ceremony, winners would get to rub elbows with bigwigs from other packs and access exactly the kind of dirt I needed to help Dad.

"Everyone's dressed like they're hitting up the Moon Goddess Festival," I said to Ella, who stood beside me looking just as underdressed. "Think we missed the memo on dress code?"

Ella rolled her eyes, tipping her head toward a cluster of female candidates. "Check them out. Word drops that the Alpha King's judging and suddenly they're all dolled up like they're trying to catch a mate."

I snorted, remembering how Tyler had dropped the bomb about Blake being a judge. My mark heated up at the thought, and I yanked my collar higher before anyone could spot it.

"I don't need to play dress-up," I muttered. "I need that medal and those exchange privileges. Get my hands on the Northern packs' archives, and I might finally nail down proof that Dad got set up."

Ella hooked her arm through mine with a squeeze. "You've got this in the bag. Nobody's worked harder for that medal than you."

The front section was decked out with fancy chairs, each sporting different pack symbols. Just my luck—my seat was dead center, right next to Serena's. Perfect.

"Hey, Ava."

I turned to see Adrian hovering next to Ella, decked out in his Shadow Creek formal gear. I'd known him since we were pups fumbling through basic stances—solid fighter, and unlike Serena, never pulled any dirty tricks.

"Heard about your dad," he said, voice dropping. "My dad's tight with some Northern pack bigshots. If you need someone to dig up info..."

Ella snorted, jabbing him with her elbow. "Wow, real smooth. Just broadcasting you've got connections? That your idea of game?"

Adrian's face went red, and I gave his shoulder a quick pat. "Thanks, Adrian. Means a lot, however this shakes out today."

He nodded, cracking a smile. "Better grab my seat. Looks like I'm parked near you guys."

"Catch you in a bit," I said.

After he bolted, Ella started laughing. "That boy's got it bad for you. Been that way since forever."

"Oh, knock it off," I groaned. "We're just friends."

"Keep telling yourself that," Ella said with a smirk. "Dude's been puppy-eyeing you for years. You'll wake up someday."

I watched Adrian weave through the crowd. Sure, he was built solid with those warm brown eyes, always smelling like pine and herbs. But I'd never caught those kinds of feelings for him—especially after getting hit by the freight train that was a mate bond.

The hair on my neck stood up, and I turned to find Serena eyeballing me from a few feet away, those ice-blue eyes shooting daggers. But instead of her usual in-your-face attitude, her lips curled up in this weird, confident smirk I'd never seen.

The huge doors banged open, and Silverpeak guards poured in like a flood, forming a human shield around someone important.

Blake strode into the Honor Hall, decked out in his Alpha King getup. Just by walking in, he had every wolf practically bowing without even trying.

My breath caught, my mark heating up like someone had pressed a hot coin against my skin. I yanked my collar higher, freaking out that someone might spot it.

After some quick schmoozing with pack representatives, Blake headed for the judges' table. His eyes swept over us candidates, but stuck on me a beat too long. That second stretched out forever, and I swear there was something in his eyes—like he was waiting for something to happen.

"All candidates, take your spots," the Academy Director called out. "Time to kick off the judging."

I dropped into my assigned chair, way too aware of Serena side-eyeing me and Blake's heavy presence at the judges' table.

The Director laid out the deal: show off your fighting skills, prove you know your tactical stuff, and demonstrate you understand pack traditions. Winner walks away with the Honor Medal and those golden exchange privileges—basically a backstage pass to other packs' secret stashes.

One by one, candidates strutted their stuff in the center ring. When Serena took her turn, she moved like water—all perfect grace and robot-precise moves. The crowd ate it up, clapping like crazy.

When they called my name, my mark burned hot under Blake's stare. I sucked in a breath and just went for it, mixing Shadow Creek's quick-strike style with the power moves they taught us at the Academy. No fancy spins or showy kicks—just raw, effective fighting that would actually work in a real throwdown.

For the strategy test, judges fired off scenario questions. When my turn came, Blake hit me with a tough one.

"You're outgunned and outnumbered. What's your play?" he asked, voice booming through the hall.

I skipped the textbook answers and went with my gut—talking up using the landscape, weather, and head games instead of charging in like an idiot.

"That's... unexpected," Blake said, something flickering behind those storm-cloud eyes. "Using the terrain and timing instead of muscle. Not many think outside the box like that."

"Shadow Creek started as the little guy," I shot back, looking him dead in the eye. "We figured out how to win smart when we couldn't win big."

The judges traded looks that said volumes. One started whispering furiously to his neighbor, both of them stealing glances my way like I'd grown a second head.

When it was all over, the judges huddled up like they were plotting world domination. Two of them looked ready to throw down, while Blake just listened, tossing in a word here and there.

"We've reached our decision," the Director finally announced, rising from his chair. "A real warrior isn't just about perfect form—it's about quick thinking and putting a fresh spin on old traditions."

"This year's winner nailed that sweet spot between honoring our ways and pushing boundaries. They've shown us that being a warrior comes from guts and brains, not just fancy bloodlines."

"The Honor Medal goes to..." The Director cracked open a scroll stamped with every pack's seal and boomed, "Ava Rivers!"

The place exploded with clapping and whistles, Ella hollering like she'd won the lottery herself. I stood up, feeling like I'd been smacked upside the head. Without thinking, my eyes found Blake, who gave me this tiny nod, something weird flashing across his face. Proud? I killed that idea.

As I headed up to grab my medal, I caught Serena watching me. Instead of the death glare I expected, her mouth curved into this creepy little smile that sent my wolf into red alert. Something in my gut screamed that this win was about to come with strings attached.