Fated reborn - Chapter 271: Chapter 271

Luciano's Pov.
The underground ring smelled like sweat, blood, and desperation.
I hadn’t planned on being here, not really. But Victor had this way of getting under my skin, planting ideas in my head until I was doing shit I never intended to do. And here I was, standing at the edge of the pit, watching as a group of fighters circled each other like wolves over a fresh kill.
The crowd was thick, the air buzzing with adrenaline. Men shouted, money exchanged hands, and the scent of alcohol clung to the heat of the space. It was raw, animalistic. Nothing like the structured fights I was used to.
I didn’t belong here.
And yet, I stayed.
Victor, the bastard, stood beside me with his arms crossed, watching me out of the corner of his eye. "You’re thinking about it," he said.
I scoffed. "I’m watching."
"Uh-huh," he smirked, leaning in slightly. "Watching real close, huh?"
I didn’t respond. Because he was right.
There was something about it, something unpolished and brutal, that made my hands twitch at my sides. This was different from the fights I trained for. No rules, no strategy beyond who could take the most damage and still be standing at the end. It wasn’t about honor—it was about survival.
And that was exactly why I needed to do this.
Victor must’ve seen it in my face, because his smirk widened. "Told you," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "C’mon, let’s make it official."
I let him guide me through the crowd, past groups of men who barely spared me a glance—until they did.
It was subtle at first. A few turned their heads, brows furrowing like they recognized something but couldn’t place it. Then, slowly, realization set in.
One by one, they moved back.
Not obvious, not panicked. Just… instinctual. Like animals stepping away from something bigger than them. Stronger.
It was the scent. Even without shifting, even without showing a single ounce of power, they could tell.
I wasn’t just some fighter stepping into the pit.
I was an Alpha.
And they wanted no part of it.
Victor grinned, obviously enjoying the way the crowd parted around us. "Well, that was easy," he muttered.
At the center of the pit, a man stood waiting. He was massive, built like a damn wall, with scars running down his arms like battle marks. His knuckles were bloodied from his last fight, and he rolled his shoulders as he watched me approach.
"You serious?" he asked, his voice deep and unimpressed.
I just stared at him.
A beat of silence.
Then, from the crowd, someone muttered, "That’s the Alpha."
That changed everything.
The energy shifted. The murmurs spread.
Some men took a step back, not willing to be anywhere near this fight. Others leaned in, suddenly more interested than before.
The big guy in front of me? He just smirked.
"Alpha, huh?" he said, cracking his neck. "Guess I gotta make this one count, then."
I didn’t respond. Just pulled off my jacket, tossing it to Victor, who caught it with an amused look.
"You’re really doing this?" he asked.
"Guess so," I muttered.
Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "Try not to kill him, yeah?"
I didn’t make any promises.
The crowd thickened, forming a tight circle around us. The rules—if you could call them that—were simple. No weapons. No interference. Fight until one man couldn’t stand.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders. The guy in front of me shifted his stance, ready.
Then the fight began.
He came at me fast, a freight train of pure muscle, fists swinging hard.
I ducked under the first punch, felt the wind of it pass inches from my face. He was strong, but he wasn’t fast. I pivoted, landing a sharp hit to his ribs. He grunted but didn’t slow. Instead, he twisted, bringing his elbow up in a brutal arc.
I barely dodged.
The impact skimmed my jaw, enough to sting but not enough to do real damage.
He was relentless, his attacks heavy, forcing me to move, to react. But that was fine. Let him tire himself out. Let him burn through his energy while I stayed controlled.
Another swing. Another dodge.
I saw the moment frustration set in.
His breathing deepened, his movements became sloppier, less calculated.
That was my opening.
I moved in fast, striking hard. A hit to the side. A jab to the ribs. A quick, brutal uppercut that sent him stumbling back.
The crowd roared.
But I wasn’t done.
I stepped forward, pressing the attack. My fists met flesh over and over again, a rhythm of power and precision.
Then, something in me shifted.
Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the scent of blood.
Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t holding back.
My vision sharpened. My instincts flared.
I felt the wolf rise beneath my skin.
My opponent barely had time to react before I grabbed him, slamming him into the ground with enough force to shake the dirt beneath us.
He gasped, coughing hard.
I straddled him, fist raised.
And for a moment, just a moment—
I almost ended him.
It would’ve been easy.
One more hit.
One more second.
But then—
"Luciano!"
Victor’s voice cut through the haze.
I blinked, breath heavy, fist still poised in the air.
The man beneath me wasn’t fighting anymore. He was barely conscious, his body wrecked from the force of my hits. Blood ran from his nose, his lip split open.
The crowd was dead silent.
They had seen.
They knew.
I wasn’t just strong.
I was something else entirely.
Slowly, I lowered my fist.
I stood, stepping back as my chest rose and fell with steady breaths. My heart was still pounding, my skin still tingling from the rush of it all.
Victor was watching me, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Then—
A slow smirk.
"Well," he said, clapping once. "That was dramatic."
I shot him a look. "Shut up."
He just laughed.
The crowd hesitated, waiting for a signal, waiting to see what I’d do next.
But I was done.
Without another word, I turned, grabbed my jacket from Victor, and walked out.
Victor followed, still grinning like an idiot. "I mean, seriously, man. You almost killed that guy. You know that, right?"
I exhaled through my nose, not answering.
"And that whole thing at the end? Just standing there, all broody and terrifying? Classic Alpha move. Really sold the whole 'don’t mess with me' image."
"Victor," I muttered.
"What?" He grinned. "I’m just saying, if the goal was to make every single man in that room piss themselves, mission accomplished."
I shot him a glare, but he just kept laughing.
Then, after a moment—
"Still," he said, more serious now. "That was impressive."
I glanced at him.
He nodded once, his usual smirk replaced with something more genuine. "You don’t just fight. You dominate."
I didn’t respond. Just pulled my jacket on and kept walking.
But inside—
I knew he was right.