The horn sounded.
I stayed there on top of the Sardak's body, breathing hard, blood dripping from a dozen wounds. My chest was on fire. Myribs screamed with every breath. My vision swam in and out of focus.
But I'd won.
Then Persico's voice boomed through the arena: "We have a winner!"
The crowd exploded.
I pushed myself to my feet, swaying, my vision swimming. Every part of me hurt. The gash across my chest was deep, and blood ran down my torso in rivers.
But I'd won.
I raised my eyes, my gaze finding her in the cage above.
She was staring at me with an expression that made something in my chest tighten. Fear, yes—I saw it in every line of her body, in the way she gripped the bars like they were the only thing keeping her upright.
But beneath the fear, I saw something else.
Recognition. Understanding.
And as I watched, she did something that made my breath catch.
She straightened. Pushed her shoulders back. Lifted her chin.
The fear was still there—I saw it in her eyes, in the trembling of her hands—but she pushed it down. Buried it beneath something stronger.
Pride. Defiance. The bearing of a warrior who refused to break.
Even dressed like that. Even standing in a cage waiting to be claimed. Even terrified out of her mind.
She held her head high.
And in that moment, I knew.
This wasn't just about protecting a prize. This wasn't just about keeping her safe from the monsters who would have hurt her.
This was about her. About the strength I saw in her eyes. About the way she stood like a warrior even when the world was trying to break her. About the defiance that burned in her despite everything they'd done to strip it away.
I stood there in the center of the pit, covered in blood and dirt among the bodies of my opponents, and made her a silent promise.
No matter what it took, I wouldn't let them break her.
Chapter 7
Merrilee
The guards brought me to what they called the "prize room."
I didn't know what I'd expected. A cell, maybe. Something dark and filthy that matched the rest of this nightmare. But when they shoved me through the door and locked it behind me, I found myself standing in something that looked almost... normal.
A hotel suite. Not the Hilton—more like one of those clean roadside motels where truckers stopped for the night. But compared to the holding room at Persico's compound, and the cage I'd been displayed in, it was practically luxury.
There was a bed. Big. The sheets looked clean, which was more than I could say for anything else in Fange City. I moved closer, drawn by something I couldn't name, and touched them. Actually soft. My fingers lingered on the fabric, and I realized I was trembling. The holding room had smelled like rust and old blood and things I didn't want to identify. This smelled like... nothing. Like neutral air.
A small kitchen setup occupied one corner—a counter, what looked like a cooling unit, a heating element. I opened the cooling unit and found it actually cold inside, filled with several containers of water.
Behind a partition, I saw a shower, sink, and toilet. Real plumbing. I stepped toward it like someone in a trance and turned on the shower. Water came out. Hot water. Steam rose up and fogged the small mirror hanging over the sink. I stared at my reflection—bruised face, hollow eyes, the sheer dress clinging to my body like a second skin of shame.
