CHAPTER 207: THE FIGHT

Hailee’s POV

For a long moment, no one moved. The crowd watched in silence, waiting to see what would happen.

Montana still stood there, her sword raised, her smirk widening. "What’s wrong?" she called out, her voice loud and full of mockery. "Too afraid to face me?"

The people around her laughed quietly.

I felt my jaw tighten.

Before I could answer, Callum stood up beside me. His voice was calm but firm—the kind that carried power even without shouting. "Hailee doesn’t need to prove herself to anyone," he said.

He stepped forward, eyes locked on Montana. "This is a festival, not a battleground. Enough games."

But Montana didn’t lower her sword. Instead, she tilted her head, her smile widening. "Oh, come now, Alpha," she said sweetly, though her tone dripped with venom. "I’m only having a little fun. Unless..." She turned her eyes to me again, her grin cruel. "Unless your guest really can’t fight."

The crowd gasped softly.

Callum’s eyes darkened, but I placed a hand on his arm before he could say anything. Inside, I scoffed.

Montana had no idea who she was talking to.

My powers might be gone, my wolf silenced, but my fighting spirit wasn’t. I started training when I was just three—before I could even read properly. Swords, daggers, hand-to-hand—I learned it all.

Montana didn’t know who she was picking a fight with.

Maybe it was time she learned.

I met her eyes, holding her gaze steadily. "You really want this?" I asked quietly.

Her smirk deepened. "Oh, I’d love nothing more."

I could hear the murmurs rising again. People were whispering, curious, and excited.

I stood slowly, smoothing down the sides of my blue dress. Callum turned to me immediately, his eyes sharp. "Hailee," he warned softly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "You don’t need to do this. Not for them. Not for her."

I gave him a small, calm smile. "I know."

But my eyes never left Montana.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was anger. Or maybe it was the fire that never really died inside me—the one that whispered I wasn’t as weak as they thought.

If Montana wanted a show, maybe it was time to give her one.

I took a single step forward. The crowd went silent again.

Montana’s smirk twitched, like she hadn’t really expected me to move.

"Fine," I said softly, my voice steady. "Let’s see what you got."

She pointed at the ground. "Pick your weapon," Montana sneered.

I walked to the rack and picked up a spear. It felt right in my hand. It has been so long.

Montana laughed. "I give you two minutes," she said.

I scoffed. "Twenty seconds," I told her. "That’s all I give you."

She curled her lip and glared at me with so much hate. The crowd watched, electric with noise. The boys stood at the edge of the circle, eyes wide.

She swung it in a practiced arc, like she wanted everyone to see how skilled she was.

I braced myself.

She lunged first. Fast. She aimed for my side.

I moved. My spear came up like a flash. I hit her arm, and the sword flew out of her hand. It spun through the air and landed with a clatter far from her reach.

People gasped so loud I heard it in my teeth. The elders fell silent. A few women gasped. My boys cheered like mad.

"Pick it up," I told her coldly. "Your twenty seconds aren’t over."

She blinked, furious and shocked. She ran to grab the sword anyway and came at me hard.

This time she was quicker. She swung low. I stepped, turned the spear, and used her momentum against her. With a strong twist, I sent the sword flying again — farther this time — so she could not reach it.

She stumbled back. I moved close. My spear tip touched the fur at her collar, right by her neck. If it were a real battle, I could have easily killed her right there.

"Your twenty seconds are up," I said. My voice was quiet, but everyone heard.

Montana’s face went white. The crowd was still. Even Callum’s jaw was tight. My boys were shouting happily. Montana lowered her eyes. She was trapped between pride and fear. Her chest heaved. The torchlight made the sweat on her brow shine.

I held the spear steady. I didn’t smile. I didn’t move. I waited.

People whispered. Some clapped quietly. Some looked at Callum, like they expected him to stop this. But he didn’t.

I knew Montana wanted to make a move, but before she could, I kicked my leg out and pushed her back down into the dirt.

She gasped. I pressed the tip of my spear against her neck—just enough to make her freeze. The crowd went still again, waiting.

"Give up," I said quietly. "Just surrender."

Her jaw tightened. She glared up at me, her teeth grinding together. "Never," she spat.

I leaned down, close enough that only she could hear me. "Listen," I whispered, my voice calm and cold. "You and I are never equal. The sooner you understand that, the better. You can hate me, challenge me, try to outshine me—but you’ll never be me."

Her eyes widened slightly, the anger in them fading into shock.

I tilted my head closer, my next words barely above a whisper. "And as for Callum," I said softly, "he’s mine if I want him."

Then I straightened, pulling the spear back and stepping away from her.

The crowd erupted—gasps, murmurs, disbelief. My boys were cheering again, proud and loud. Montana sat frozen in the dirt, her face pale and eyes full of humiliation.

Callum stood at the edge of the circle, his gaze locked on me. Shock flickered there for just a second, but then it shifted into pride.

As I walked back to the table, the noise of the crowd slowly returned, but it wasn’t the same as before.

The stares that once held judgment and suspicion now carried something else. Respect. Maybe even a little fear. Everywhere I looked, people were whispering, but not cruelly this time. Heads nodded slightly as I passed, and I could almost feel the shift in the air.

When I sat down, my boys ran up to me, grinning wide.

"That was awesome, Mom!" Oliver said, his voice full of pride.

"You were so fast," Ozzy added, his eyes bright. "She didn’t even touch you!"

Oscar smiled softly. "You looked... strong."

Their words warmed me in a way nothing else could. I brushed their hair affectionately and smiled. "Thank you, boys."

Then I turned slightly, and there was Callum.

He leaned closer, his voice low against my ear. "That move," he murmured, his tone full of admiration, "you’ll have to teach me that sometime."

I smiled, unable to help the small laugh that escaped my lips. "Maybe," I whispered back.

He chuckled softly, and for a brief moment, the tension melted away. The festival music picked up again, torches flickering as people started dancing and eating. But from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Montana.

She stood at the edge of the yard, her face pale and tight. Her glare met mine for a second—full of fury and humiliation — before she turned sharply and walked away.

I sighed quietly and looked back at the boys. "Come on," I said gently. "It’s getting late."

They nodded. Even though they were only ten, they didn’t fuss or argue. They knew when it was time to rest.

Back at the house, I tucked them in, one after the other. "Goodnight," I whispered, brushing their foreheads.

"Goodnight, Mom," they said together, smiling sleepily.

Once their door was closed, I stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me.

Then I turned — and froze.

Callum was there, leaning against my doorframe. His jacket was off, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his expression unreadable but warm.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes."

He stepped inside, and before I could say another word, he lifted me up in one smooth motion. I gasped softly, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders. My legs wrapped around his waist as he looked at me, his eyes dark and intense.

"You were sexy back there," he said, his voice low and husky.

I smiled faintly, a soft blush rising to my cheeks. "Was I?"

He didn’t answer — he just kissed me. Deep, slow, and full of heat. I felt his hand slide up my back, fingers tracing the zipper of my dress.

But then—Nathan’s face flashed in my mind. The memory of him knocked me out. The spark inside me died all at once, replaced by a cold, heavy ache in my chest.

My hands froze against Callum’s shoulders. The air between us changed.

He felt it too. He pulled back slightly, eyes searching mine. "Hailee?" he asked quietly.

I looked away, guilt burning in my throat. "I’m sorry," I whispered. "I just... can’t."

He didn’t push. He just nodded slowly, his thumb brushing my cheek. "It’s okay," he said softly. "I understand."

But as he lowered me gently to the floor, I could see the disappointment in his eyes—not anger, not frustration, just quiet sadness.