The moment Tristan spoke up, the whole crowd erupted. "Oh!" "Boss, don't chicken out! Take him down!" "Tristan, seriously? Want to go one-on-one with Boss again? Didn't last time hurt enough?" Werewolves were made for combat. And those fired-up soldiers? They lived for the thrill—the kind of rush that made their hearts pound. So as soon as Tristan threw down the challenge, everyone went wild, eager for a fight. Lately, Thora had blended in with them perfectly. She cracked jokes now and then, which made her even more part of the group. Shirley squinted at Tristan. Something about him felt off. Even during training, his eyes seemed glued to Thora. Tristan grinned, bright and a little mischievous, full of raw charm. He stepped forward, planted his feet, and tipped his chin. It was pure provocation. A heat surged through Thora. Her brows rose. She shifted her weight, fists clenching. Without a word, they both dialed back their wolf power and dove in with nothing but raw combat skill. There was no chatter. Tristan struck first. In an instant, they were locked in, moving lightning-fast, striking sharply, dodging cleanly. They were so quick that everyone else could only see blurred afterimages. Luke flipped open his laptop, aiming the camera at the fight. Every move played back on his screen in slow motion, broken down frame by frame. A line of people behind him couldn't tear their eyes away from either the live fight or the slow-mo replay."This is insane ... It's even more precise than any textbook." "Boss and Tristan look evenly matched ... " Harvey frowned, watching them push full force. Ashton shook his head. "No. Boss hits harder and faster. Otherwise, she wouldn't dodge Tristan's moves at normal speed." "But ... seriously, last time I didn't really watch. Now, seeing Tristan up close, his close-combat skills? You won't find another like him in all of Astralis. Even across Chaules, he's top-tier. "His only weakness is that he overthinks precision and kill power, which slows him down a bit. Against Boss, that doesn't work." Everyone nodded, glued to every second, not daring to blink. Tristan caught Thora's arm. They were close—breaths brushing, heat radiating from their sweat. "Boss, if you lose this time, no backing out," Tristan whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. Thora's lashes flickered. "I'm not losing." Before the words even settled, she clamped his wrist, locking him down. Tristan reacted fast. He slipped free, his arm twisting like some kind of trick, breaking her hold. He spun around, grabbing Thora's shoulder. Digging into her back, he swung his leg to hook her. But Thora could anticipate his next move. She turned first and tossed him with a smooth shoulder throw. "Ah!" Tristan yelped, hitting the ground. It wasn't the first time Thora had slammed him down, yet a flash of frustration crossed his face. He pushed himself up, dusted off his clothes, and grinned at her. "I'll beat you someday. And when I do, you'd better keep your promise." Thora's eyes gleamed sharply. She met his gaze and smiled. "Deal." Tristan's grin grew even wider at her answer. That fall didn't hurt so much anymore. "Tristan, you know you can't beat Boss, and you still go looking for a fight. Do you like pain or something?" Aaron teased. "Something is wrong with you. Don't tell me you've got a crush on Boss," Ashton added, smirking.