“They’re really that stupid?”
Evander chuckles. “You’d be surprised what people choose to believe.” He pulls the needle out and presses a small cloth to the puncture. “Mid-season, they often bring in fighters from elsewhere too—men they know will lose. Makes Victora look good when they squish them easily. Simple propaganda.”
I almost laugh.Almost.
The blood in the vial looks darker than I expected. Like it’s already given up.
“So, Marco will train us up so we can put on a good show before we die?”
“Basically.”
I press the cloth harder against my arm, watching a small red stain seep through the white fabric. “What’s his deal, then?”
The question burns in my throat like I’ve swallowed fire. I need to know everything about Marco. How he moves. How he thinks. What makes him tick. What makes him weak.
Evander caps the vial and sets it aside, his movements slow. “Marco’s a… formidable man. That’s all I can tell you.”
Annoyance flares within me. “Come on. Give me something, at least.”
“Just know he’s been through some shit, and don’t fuck with him.”
The warning sits heavy between us. But it only makes me want to know more. What kind of shit? How much? And why does everyone in this place treat him like he’s made of glass and steel at the same time?
“Do you know where he comes from, at least?”
Evander rolls his eyes and lets out a long breath. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”
He looks at me seriously then, really looks at me. He reaches out and squeezes my biceps, testing the muscle there.
“I like you, Robin.” His grip is firm, professional, but there’s something almost protective in the gesture. “You’ve got a chance of surviving this. Achance. Don’t fuck it up by being stubborn. Fight smart when you’re outmatched and submit when you’re told to.”
Submit.My jaw tightens, and I pull my arm away from his grip.
“I’ll submit to no one.”
Evander’s mouth curves into a smile—not mocking, but something sadder.
“That’s exactly what I was afraid you’d say.”
“And if you think I’m going to submit to Marco of all—”
The door to Evander’s office bursts open without warning. Jason stands in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning the room before settling on me with that familiar glare.
“What the hell, Jason?” Evander snaps, stepping between us. It’s only then, when I see him next to Jason, that I realise how built he is. Like he should be out there with the rest of us. “You know the rules. Knock and wait for permission.”
Jason’s jaw works as if he’s chewing on something bitter. His gaze flicks from me to Evander and back again.
“My appointment’s now.”
“Your appointment is in two minutes. Come back then.”
The tension in the small room feels thick enough to cut. Jason’s hands curl into fists at his sides, and for a moment I think he might actually swing at Evander. Instead, he takes a step back, that cold stare never leaving my face.
“Two minutes.”
The door slams shut behind him hard enough to rattle the medical supplies on the shelves.
Evander shakes his head and mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse. He turns back to me, but the easy conversation we’d been having is gone.
