Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 195

Chapter 195: Chapter 195
Damien’s POV

That sound.

That low, feral growl cutting through the warehouse noise like a blade.

My entire body locked up. Every muscle went rigid. My wolf exploded to the surface so fast it physically hurt.

*That’s—*

No. Impossible.

*That’s our mate!*

Alex was losing his mind inside me. Clawing. Snarling. Desperate to get out.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My hands gripped the railing in front of me so hard the metal groaned.

“Damien?” Lucas’s voice sounded far away. “Did you hear that?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because that sound—that growl—

I knew it.

Knew it in my bones. In my soul. In every cell of my body that had spent three years aching for something I’d lost.

“Damien, seriously, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

My head turned. Slow. Like moving through concrete.

The ring came into focus.

The fighter—the woman—was on her feet.

She’d been down. Beaten. Everyone thought she was finished.

But she was standing.

And she was moving.

Not defense. Not survival.

Pure fucking attack.

Her fist drove into her opponent’s chin with a crack I heard from fifty feet away. His head snapped back. Blood sprayed.

The crowd erupted.

“HOLY SHIT!” Someone screamed beside me.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?”

“SHE’S GOING TO KILL HIM!”

The noise swelled to a roar. Hundreds of people surging forward. Pushing. Shoving. Everyone trying to get closer to the carnage.

And I stood there. Frozen. Watching her destroy this man twice her size.

Her movements were familiar.

The way she moved. The way she struck. The particular angle of her elbow when it connected with his ribs.

I’d seen those movements before. Watched them. Studied them.

Taught them.

Marcus’s training. Pack facility techniques. Things only someone who’d been trained by wolves would know.

*No. No, that’s not possible.*

But my wolf was screaming. Absolutely losing his mind.

*MATE! That’s our mate! That’s Sera!*

“I need to see her face.” The words came out strangled.

“What?” Lucas grabbed my arm. “Damien, what are you talking about?”

“Her face. I need to see her face.”

I started moving. Pushing past people. Shoving through the crowd that had become a solid wall of bodies.

“Excuse me. Move. Get out of the way.”

But nobody moved. They were too focused on the fight. Too caught up in the violence.

I pushed harder. Used my size. My strength. My Alpha authority even though none of these people would recognize it.

“Damien!” Lucas was right behind me. “What the hell is going on?”

“That fighter.” My voice was shaking. “The woman. I need to see her.”

“Why?”

“Just—fuck—move!” I shoved past a group of men blocking the aisle. They shouted protests but I didn’t care.

The crowd was packed tighter down here. Shoulder to shoulder. Everyone on their feet. Screaming. Throwing money. Completely losing their minds.

I forced my way through. One step. Two steps. Each one harder than the last.

In the ring, she was still going. Relentless. Brutal.

Her opponent staggered. Blood pouring from his nose. His mouth. A cut above his eye.

She didn’t stop.

My heart was hammering. My wolf clawing at my insides.

*Get closer! We need to get closer!*

“Sir, you can’t—” Someone tried to stop me.

I shoved past them. Knocked someone’s beer flying. Didn’t care.

“Damien!” Lucas caught my arm. “You need to calm down!”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“That’s—” I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say it out loud because if I was wrong—

God, if I was wrong, I’d shatter completely.

Another surge forward. Pushing through bodies that wouldn’t give. The crowd was too thick. Too frenzied.

I was still twenty feet back. Too far. Too fucking far to see clearly.

But I could see her form. Her shape. The way she moved.

And it was killing me.

Her opponent fell to one knee. Blood dripping onto the canvas. The referee rushed in.

Checking him. Asking if he could continue.

The man nodded. Struggled to his feet.

She came at him again. No hesitation. No mercy.

Just violence.

Raw and brutal and so achingly familiar my chest physically hurt.

*That’s her. That’s our Sera. I know it is.*

“Damien, talk to me!” Lucas was shaking my arm. “What’s happening? Why are you acting like this?”

“I think—” My voice broke. “I think that’s Sera.”

Silence.

Then: “What?”

“The fighter. I think it’s Sera.”

“That’s insane! Sera’s—she’s not—” Lucas’s voice faltered. “Is she?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because in the ring, the man was falling.

Face-first onto the canvas. Blood pooling beneath him.

Not moving.

The referee jumped up. Grabbed her arm. Raised it high.

“Winner!”

The warehouse exploded.

Complete and total chaos. People screaming. Jumping. Money flying through the air like confetti.

The noise was physical. Pressing against my skull. My chest. Everything.

But I barely heard it.

Because the referee let go of her arm.

And she turned.

Just slightly. Just enough.

And even with the blood. Even with the swelling and the bruises and the distance between us.

Even with three years of changes and pain and everything that had happened.

I saw her face.

“Sera.” The word fell out of my mouth. Barely a whisper.

Dark hair plastered to her skull with sweat and blood. Those emerald eyes—older now, harder, but still hers. That face I’d memorized. Worshipped. Seen every night in my dreams.

It was her.

My mate.

My wife.

The mother of my children.

Standing in a ring covered in blood. Crying. Shaking. Victorious and destroyed all at once.

“SERA!” The scream tore out of me. Louder than I’d meant. Desperate. Broken.

But the crowd was too loud. Too frenzied.

My voice disappeared into the wall of noise. Swallowed whole.

“SERA!” I tried again. Louder. Putting everything I had into it.

Nothing. She didn’t hear. Didn’t turn. Didn’t see me.

Someone was helping her out of the ring now. An older man.

She was crying. I could see her shoulders shaking. See her legs barely holding her up.

And she was walking away.

Toward the exit. Toward the back. Toward disappearing again.

“No.” I shoved forward. Violent now. Desperate. “No, no, no—SERA!”

But the crowd was pushing back. Celebrating. Screaming. Creating an impenetrable wall of bodies between us.

“SERA!” My voice cracked. Raw. Destroyed.

She disappeared through the exit. The door closing behind her.

Gone.

“SERA!”

I screamed her name into the chaos. Into the noise. Into the crowd that wouldn’t let me through.

Screamed it until my throat was raw.

But she was already gone.

And my voice—my desperate, broken voice—was completely, utterly drowned in the roar of the crowd.