Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 183: Fighting To Stay Alive

**Tiana's POV**

A folded piece of paper appeared under the door. I hesitated for a moment before picking it up. My fingers touched the rough paper as I unfolded it.

Only one line was written on the paper in sharp, deliberate handwriting: "Do not hold back." My heart started racing. There was no name, no clue about who had sent it.

But I didn't need one. I knew it was Peter. He wanted me to give it my all, to fight at my best. This was more than just a test for the Alpha. He was testing me for something else.

I crumpled the paper in my fist, my jaw tightening. Fine. If Peter wanted a fight, I would give him one. At dawn, I would face him in the courtyard. And I would not lose.

*+*+*+*+*

As I stepped into the courtyard, the sun was just starting to rise. The stone ground felt cool beneath my bare feet, and the air was crisp with the lingering chill of dawn.

A circle had been cleared for our duel, and a crowd of nobles and warriors had gathered around it. Usually, this could have been private, a quiet affair for just the two of us and then the results would get to the king later, but not today.

I was surrounded by a ton of noblemen, waiting and watching for the fight to happen but the most important was that today, the King himself, Alpha Roman, had come to watch. He sat in a carved stone chair at the head of the gathering, his dark eyes unreadable. Beside him, Theo stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze flicking between curiosity and disinterest.

Layla, always composed, stood slightly behind them, a faint smirk on her lips, as if she already knew the outcome. And then there was Peter.

He stood in the centre of the ring, rolling his shoulders as he stretched. He had stripped down to his tunic and training pants, his muscles tensed beneath the fabric. His expression was calm, but his stance was anything but relaxed.

He was taking this seriously.

I swallowed hard, stepping forward.

My heart pounded against my ribs, but my face remained neutral. Fear wouldn’t serve me here. I wasn’t just fighting for the right to stay in the palace. I was fighting to stay alive.

A servant girl shouldn’t have the skill to take on a Beta. That was what they expected. That was what they wanted to believe.

But I had no intention of making this easy for him. I had to give my all so I could convince the Alpha to let me in on the ranks. If I had been recruited as a servant, getting close to the royals to figure out what I needed might not have been easy because my strategy was to get close to Theo or even Peter. Close enough to hold discussions with them where they listened to what I had to say, and I could get them to talk without it being seemingly suspicious.

If I was a ranked warrior, I might even be let in on private war affairs that no one would be privy to and that was the easiest way to figure out what Alpha Roman and Corvin were up to— as well as learn more about my death.

Sure, if I ended up as a maid, it would be okay as well. I would still have privileges but I would always prefer being a warrior.

Peter’s eyes met mine, and for the briefest moment, I saw something flicker in them. A question. A hesitation.

Then it was gone.

“Begin,” Alpha Roman commanded.

Peter moved first and very quickly.

He closed the distance between us in an instant, his fist cutting through the air. I barely ducked in time, spinning away from the attack, my feet skimming across the stone.

He was testing me.

I felt it in the way his blows came precise but not lethal, probing but not reckless. He wanted to see what I could do.

I let him.

I dodged, deflected, and moved with a speed I hadn’t realized this body was capable of. I wasn’t stronger than him, but I was faster. Lighter. I twisted out of his reach, using my size against him, making him chase me instead of letting him dictate the fight.

The crowd murmured.

A servant shouldn’t be able to move like this.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. I saw the exact moment he stopped playing.

His next strike came without warning—a sweeping kick that aimed to take my legs out from under me. I jumped, flipping midair to land behind him, a move that had once been second nature to me.

Peter froze for a minute.

It was the briefest pause, but I caught it.

Recognition.

Not of me. But of something I had just done. He recognized the skill set.

His hesitation cost him. I lunged forward, striking out with a sharp jab to his ribs. He grunted, stepping back. For the first time, surprise flickered across his face.

I pressed forward. A series of quick strikes, forcing him to retreat. I was faster. More unpredictable. And for a moment—a brief, exhilarating moment—I thought I could actually win.

Then I made a mistake.

I aimed too high.

Peter caught my wrist mid-strike and twisted, sending me crashing onto the stone floor. Pain shot up my spine, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to cry out.

He pinned me in an instant, his knee pressing into my side, his hand wrapped tight around my throat—not enough to choke, but enough to remind me who had won.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Peter didn’t look triumphant.

He looked… unsettled.

His grip loosened slightly. I saw it again—that flicker of recognition, the way his brows drew together as if he were trying to place a memory just out of reach.

But he couldn’t.

Because the woman he had known, the woman he had trained alongside, fought beside was dead.

I was someone else.

He released me and stepped back, offering a hand. I ignored it, pushing myself up on my own.

I turned toward the King, waiting for his verdict.

Alpha Roman studied me, his gaze sharp. Then, slowly, he leaned forward.

“You’re a spy.”