I never needed an invitation or a contract. Being Dom’s . . . whatever I am . . . grants me automatic entry into this world of controlled depravity. Sometimes I wonder what these elite bastards, with their perfect public faces, would say if they knew an Ellis watched them indulge their darker appetites. But that’s The Inferno’s true spell. In here, everyone sheds their masks, and no one beyond these walls will ever hear a word.
Dom doesn’t judge my fascination, he never has. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. In this altar of violence and pleasure, he lets me be the monster I’m becoming, and I let him be his.
“Betting closes in three minutes!” booms the announcer as we reach Dom’s private box. “Chen versus the Scorpid—place your wagers now!”
I lean against the railing, my heart slamming against my ribs as the wards flare to life.
The Rotvein Scorpid bursts into the arena, containment seals hissing as its chamber slides open. I gasp. It’s breathtaking in the way a massacre is beautiful before the blood hits the ground. Translucent veins pulse beneath its armored carapace, tail arched high, and dripping acid that hisses when it meets sand. The crowd swells forward, feeding on the predator’s promise.
“Ladies and gentlemen of The Inferno, welcome to the Pit Arena!” The voice reverberates through my bones. “Tonight’s mainevent! Twenty-seven victories, sixteen by death. The terror of the Lower Rings, the man who turned desperation into legend . . . Marcus Blood-Breaker Chen!”
My fingers curl against the rail as Marcus steps into the arena. His ruby is massive now—gods, how many deathmatches did it take to earn a stone that size? His body is a map of brutality. Every scar tells a story of transformation, of a man who chose violence as his salvation.
“Looking good, Blood-Breaker!” Xavier calls, smug as a godling. “Remember our deal—take the tail first, make it suffer, and that Rift District apartment is yours.”
I hate him, loathe him even. The way he offers freedom like a prize, all while molding boys into weapons for show.
Dom’s hand slides back to my waist as Marcus stretches and cracks his scarred knuckles. Power hums off him, thick and heady, and the crowd drinks it in like intoxication, worshiping his transformation. His grin splits the night open, revealing the euphoria that only comes from learning to savor the taste of your own blood.
The Scorpid shrieks from the pen, demanding my attention. Even the handlers, with faces drawn tight from strain, look minuscule beside it. Acid falls in hissing arcs, scarring the sand, and I find myself counting the seconds until release.
Marcus approaches the barrier, fingers trailing along the surface until the magic ripples under his touch. His lips move in words too quiet to catch—prayer or curse, I can’t tell—but the hunger in his eyes makes it clear this isn’t a match to him. It’s a reckoning.
“Last chance to back out, Blood-Breaker!” Xavier calls down, his voice laced with mock concern. But Marcus’s smile splits his face, all teeth and promise, and Dom’s fingers clamp tighter around my hip as the barrier parts with a hiss of arcane seals.
The magic crackles across Marcus’s skin as he steps into the Pit. The crowd’s roar builds into a low, guttural thunder. I lean back against Dom’s chest without meaning to, caught in the pull of it.When the Scorpid’s chains drop, the sound reverberates through the floor, and I realize I’m grinning too.
A voice that sounds too much like Rowe curls in my mind about the beauty of these creatures in their natural habitats, and how we corrupt everything we touch. He would weep for this arena. But here, in The Inferno’s electric darkness, even that corruption has its own terrible allure. The line between preservation and destruction blurs until I can’t tell which side I’m supposed to be on anymore. This is why I never told my parents. Why Luna can never know. Some appetites are too monstrous to confess.
The Scorpid lunges, chitin cracking with each snap of its frame, venom dripping thick across its fangs. Its pincers slam together in a rhythm that dares anything to come closer. The stinger arches overhead, a halo of poison that drips acid onto the sand, each drop hissing where it lands.
The crowd shoves toward the barriers but I hardly register them. Something’s wrong. As the Scorpid shifts, its body wavers at the edges, blurring in a shimmer of distortion. I blink, and the fracture is gone.
“Did you see that?” I whisper to Dom. “That shimmer around its core?”
His fingers dig into my hip in response. No reply, just silent confirmation. He wanted me to see this.
The creature strikes, its tail cleaving through the air, but Marcus is already in motion. His ruby ignites as a shield bursts into being just in time. Acid crashes against it, the sizzling sound making the crowd gasp. My knuckles whiten around the railing, breath caught somewhere between awe and horror.
“Oh, you want to dance?” Marcus’s voice carries, sharp and manic. Blood sheets down his arms, and he spins through, each movement a performance of insanity.
“Look at him go!” someone shrieks behind me.
The Scorpid charges again, pincers slamming shut where Marcus’s torso had been seconds ago. He cartwheels clear, laughing as aspray of acid sears the air past his cheek. “Too slow!” he crows. “My grandmother hit harder, and she’s been dead a decade!”
Ishouldbe repulsed. Ishouldlook away.
But I don’t. I can’t.
I can only watch, transfixed, as the fighter I used to admire dissolves into myth and madness.
“Getting tired yet?” Marcus taunts. His tongue dragging across his lower lip, smearing blood. The gash over his brow streaks one side of his face in red, but his smile only widens. “I could do this all night!”
The crowd howls, and I flinch as the Scorpid’s pincer slams into his shoulder. The crack is audible. Blood spatters across the barrier, warm droplets painting my cheek.
I don’t wipe them away.
Marcus just laughs harder, something fractured glinting behind his eyes. “That’s more like it!” He grabs the pincer still embedded in his flesh, using it as leverage to swing himself onto the creature’s back. “Always wanted to try Scorpid-riding,” he shouts. “Cross that off the bucket list!”
