Fated reborn - Chapter 268: Chapter 268

Luciano’s POV.
The afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting golden hues over the pack’s territory. The day had been long, filled with the usual responsibilities—meetings, patrol updates, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. It wasn’t exciting, but it was necessary.
Victor and I had wrapped up our tasks for the day, and as we left the office, he nudged me with his elbow.
"You know," he said, smirking, "we should do something different today. Something that doesn’t involve paperwork or training."
I glanced at him. "Like what?"
He pulled out his phone, showing me an event flyer. "There’s a wrestling match in town tonight. Nothing too big, just a local underground scene. Thought it might be fun to check out."
I considered it for a moment. It had been a while since I had gone anywhere just to enjoy myself. My routine didn’t leave much room for that.
"Fine," I said. "But we go in as normal people. No ‘Alpha’ business."
Victor grinned. "That’s the plan."
After grabbing something quick to eat, we changed into casual clothes—nothing that would stand out too much—and made our way to the venue. The wrestling ground wasn’t anything fancy. It was an old warehouse turned into an arena, filled with people eager for a fight. The atmosphere was charged, the air thick with excitement and the scent of sweat and adrenaline.
We paid for our tickets and blended into the crowd, keeping things low-key. The ring in the center of the arena was surrounded by metal barriers, with bright lights shining down on it. Fighters were already warming up, and the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, hyping up the next match.
"This should be interesting," Victor said, crossing his arms as we found a good spot to watch.
The first match began, two fighters stepping into the ring. They were both muscular, their bodies covered in scars and tattoos. The bell rang, and they clashed immediately, exchanging heavy blows that echoed through the space.
The crowd roared in excitement, cheering for their favorites. I found myself watching closely, analyzing their techniques.
"That one’s got power," I said, pointing at the fighter in red trunks. "But his stance is too open. He’s leaving himself vulnerable."
Victor chuckled. "You never stop analyzing fights, do you?"
I smirked. "It’s a habit."
As the match went on, my prediction proved right. The opponent took advantage of the opening, landing a brutal strike that sent the guy in red trunks crashing to the mat. The referee counted down, and the fight was over.
The night continued with more matches, each one more intense than the last. The crowd got louder, the energy in the room growing with every fight.
At one point, a fighter stepped into the ring, and something about him caught my attention. He was tall, lean but strong, with a calm, calculated air about him. Unlike the others, he didn’t waste energy showboating. He just stood there, waiting for his opponent.
When the fight began, he moved with precision—dodging, countering, striking only when necessary. He wasn’t just brawling; he was thinking.
"He’s good," Victor said, watching with interest.
"Yeah," I agreed. "He knows exactly what he’s doing."
The fight ended quickly, the calculated fighter winning without breaking much of a sweat. I made a mental note of his movements, impressed by his control.
As the event wound down, we decided to head out before the final match. The streets were still alive with the buzz of the night, neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement.
Victor stretched his arms. "Not bad for a change of pace, huh?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It was worth it."
He grinned. "Maybe next time, we enter the ring ourselves."
I smirked. "Maybe."
With that, we headed back to the pack territory, the sounds of the city fading behind us. The night had been a break from the routine, but tomorrow, things would return to normal. And I was ready for it.
Victor and I stepped out of the warehouse, the crisp night air hitting us as the sounds of the city hummed in the background. The neon lights from nearby bars and street lamps painted the pavement in streaks of red and blue. Even though we were leaving, the energy of the fights still buzzed between us.
Victor let out a low whistle. "Damn, that last guy—he was something else."
I nodded, rubbing my jaw. "Yeah. You don’t see that kind of control often, especially in underground fights. He wasn’t just strong. He was smart."
Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "Man barely broke a sweat. His opponent didn’t even see it coming."
We walked toward the parking lot, the adrenaline still lingering in my veins. I wasn’t usually one to get caught up in things like this, but something about that last fight had drawn me in. It wasn’t just the skill—I had seen skilled fighters before. It was the way he moved, like every motion was calculated three steps ahead. That kind of precision meant discipline, years of training, and an understanding of combat that went beyond raw strength.
Victor ran a hand through his hair. "I was thinking—what if we got in the ring? Just for the hell of it."
I gave him a side glance. "You serious?"
He grinned. "Why not? We’ve fought tougher guys than these in training. Hell, we’d probably dominate the place."
I smirked. "You’re underestimating them."
Victor laughed. "Oh, come on. You think any of those guys could take us?"
I didn’t answer right away. The truth was, I wasn’t sure. Strength alone wasn’t everything, and I had learned the hard way that technique could outweigh brute force. Sure, we had the advantage in a real fight, but stepping into a ring with rules, with a different kind of fight strategy, was something else entirely.
"Maybe," I finally said. "But that’s not the point. It’s not about winning. It’s about the fight itself."
Victor snorted. "You sound like an old man right now."
I smirked. "And you sound like a kid looking for trouble."
He grinned, but his gaze drifted back toward the warehouse. "Still, gotta admit, it’s tempting."
I didn’t disagree. There was something about the raw intensity of the fights that called to me. It wasn’t about proving anything—it was about the experience, the challenge. Watching it from the sidelines had been entertaining, but stepping into that ring, testing ourselves in a different way, that was something else entirely.
We reached the car, but neither of us moved to get in. Instead, we stood there, the parking lot mostly empty, save for a few other spectators lingering near their own vehicles. The distant sound of sirens echoed somewhere in the city, blending with the muffled bass of music from a nearby club.
Victor leaned against the hood, arms crossed. "Alright, real talk—what did you think of the fights?"
I exhaled, thinking for a moment. "Some of them were good. Others were just brawlers, swinging without much strategy."
"And that last guy?"
I shook my head. "He was different. He wasn’t just fighting—he was dismantling his opponent piece by piece. He knew exactly where to hit, how to move. His patience was what made him dangerous."
Victor whistled. "Man, you’re really analyzing this, huh?"
I shrugged. "Can’t help it. It’s what I do."
He grinned. "So what’s the verdict? Could you take him?"
I thought about it. "Maybe. Maybe not. Would depend on how he reads me. Guys like that, they don’t fight head-on. They wait. They watch. They learn you before you even throw a punch" i lied.
Victor nodded, letting that sink in. "Damn. Now I kind of want to see you fight him."
I chuckled. "Not happening."
"Why not? Just a friendly match. No titles, no packs, no nothing. Just a fight."
I gave him a look. "You just want to see me get my ass kicked."
He laughed. "Nah, I just want to see how you’d handle it. You’re always so calculated in our training fights, but this? This is different. No shifting, no enhanced strength, just pure skill."
I couldn’t argue with that. The idea was intriguing. Still, I wasn’t about to jump into something just because Victor was hyped about it.
"Maybe one day," I said. "But not today."
He sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if we ever come back, you’re getting in that ring."
I smirked. "We’ll see."