Chapter 1 #2
I feel only slightly guilty for subjecting her to such an environment, especially against her will. But as my father loves to remind me, I have an affinity for corruption. And to be honest, the whole of the High Quarter could stand to take the collective stick out of their asses every now and then.
Over the last month I’ve found the courage to push my boundaries, to venture out and explore what secrets lay beyond High Quarter life.
Watching my twenty-fifth birthday come and pass within the same four walls I'd spent the entirety of my life in was terrifying. It shook me in a way I never thought it could. The Alpha’s bloodline can live longer than most, but the promise of a long life doesn’t change that I’ve spent each of those twenty-five years trapped like a songbird under my father’s careful watch, deteriorating as he hides away whatever it is that lives inside me.
I guess I finally reached my breaking point.
I saw my future for the stark, cold, lonely reality it was.
I couldn’t live another moment in that kind of captivity.
So I started sneaking away, exploring the High Quarter.
Then the MidLands and the fun distractions they offered.
But eventually I knew I’d find myself here.
Even so, I know the privilege I carry, the ability to return seamlessly back into the protection of my home, the comforts and safety afforded me within those borders.
To exist wholly within the ungoverned district as one of their own . . . I can’t imagine the horrors its members go through just to survive.
Another roar sounds from the crowd as one of the fighters falls to the ground, slipping in a puddle of blood from one of the previous matches.
The opponent is on him in a heartbeat, landing blow after blow that has the spectators around us going feral with excitement.
My eyes linger on the more victorious of the two fighters, noting the strength and ferocity in his eyes as he shows his opponent no mercy.
I turn away, shaken by the scene, and allow my eyes to roam the VIPs watching from the boxes on the other side of the ring.
Their wealth is evident in their clothing, and the manicured way they move as they raise their champagne flutes to their lips before softly clapping or murmuring their disapproval for whatever fighter they've placed their bets on.
My eyes catch on one individual in particular.
He’s further back in the box, nearly tucked into the shadows and out of sight, but I notice him nonetheless.
Andras Blackthorn, leader of the Blood Order and Alpha of the ungoverned district.
Self-appointed, obviously. Unfortunately, the only true Alpha is my father.
While the ungoverned district is technically lawless, a natural hierarchy has developed over the years, putting Andras and his followers on top.
Which is a dangerous place for his kind to be.
His salt-and-pepper hair is cropped close to his head, matching the scruff along his chin.
As opposed to his overdressed cohorts, he is clothed simply in a pair of distressed jeans and a leather jacket.
Despite it being nighttime and indoors, he dons sunglasses as well.
The inability to see his eyes unsettles me, making me feel as if he’s staring right at me.
I notice his tumbler glass full of something sickeningly crimson.
He holds it in his silver ring studded hand—outstretched, erect.
And to my utter terror, raised towards me.
He tips his head, the sunglasses falling just enough to reveal a glimpse of his eyes, before he lowers his hand to his smirking lips and takes a long sip of the thick, red liquid.
I pull my gaze away quickly, hating the chill that has settled at the center of my back.
I pretend I don’t see him, pretend I don’t catch the way he’s still staring at me.
I force my eyes to return to the fight, honing in on the way the fighters’ fists land against each other over and over again in an attempt to settle the fear that has crept quickly over my skin. But it does little to help.
“Let’s go check out some of the music,” I half yell to Dina over the shouts and jeers surrounding us.
The smell of blood and sweat has begun to penetrate my nose as the fight ends with a knockout punch, souring my stomach.
The eerie encounter saps my desire to see any more of the violence ensuing before me.
I can feel the steady ache behind my eyes already starting to intensify and I’m finding myself desperate to leave before the next fight commences, to be away from the bright overhead lights and raucous noise that has me feeling too exposed.
Her eyes go wide as she looks over at me. “You want to see more of this place?” she asks, mortified. The crowd is cheering loudly now, celebrating another vicious victory. I dip within its fold, using their upstretched arms as cover as I pull Dina along with me.
“We'll be fine.” I wave away her concern with a laugh, one that feels forced. “I’m sure this scene will be much more your speed. No violence, I promise.”
She mumbles under her breath but follows behind me begrudgingly as we make our way around the perimeter of the ring.
Just as I’m turning to break away from the barrier, the winning fighter from the last round catches my eye.
He’s exiting the ring, right along the edge we’re occupying.
He glistens with sweat from the fight, splattered in blood that I know isn’t all his.
I know I need to move, but I can’t help but stare.
He’s chiseled, to say the least. I’d noticed it during his fight, but now that I’m close I can see every last detail of the ribboned muscle.
He’s not obnoxiously muscular like my father’s personal guards, but fit in a tall, lean, just-enough-to-make-you-want-to-run-your-tongue-along-his-stomach kind of way.
And it doesn't help that almost every inch of visible skin is covered in ink.
I shake my head, taken aback by the sudden direction my thoughts have turned.
He meets my gaze, grabbing his T-shirt off the barrier where he discarded it before the fight. He tousles his drenched, raven hair before flashing me a mischievous grin, revealing a set of very white, very sharp, fangs.
My blood chills. He must belong to the Blood Order.
One of Andras’ own. Abominations, as my father likes to call them.
My father has strict opinions on the behavior of the Blood Order—which is one of the many reasons why I’m not allowed within this territory.
I've spent much of my life ignoring my father’s opinions and lectures, but their kind has always put me on edge sending terror straight to my bones.
And I’m suddenly wondering if I’ve made a mistake venturing out this far.
Because no matter how much my father tries to suppress it—no matter how much he or I deny it—my power recognizes itself there.
In them.
The fighter’s smile grows, surely sensing the fear rising in me as I comprehend who, or what, he is. He throws me a wink, shaking his head as he pulls the shirt on and walks out into the passage leading to the fighters’ backroom.
I release my breath, realizing I’m standing frozen in my tracks. Dina pulls at me anxiously.
“Can we go now?” she whines as she hops uneasily from one foot to the other, her fear even stronger than my own.
But something holds me in my place, even after he's gone. I came here tonight for fun, for a distraction from my mundane life and as a way to push myself to be braver. To prove something. And the thought of retreating to the High Quarter so soon has the tension between my shoulders growing tenfold. It's been a hard month working up to this point, and I would hate to throw away the opportunity now that I’m finally here. But all desire to linger quickly receded once I’d caught the attention of Andres—had been snuffed out completely once I’d seen those fangs on the male just before me.
And despite the need to prove myself, my own body’s limitations are barreling forward.
My hands shake uncontrollably, even as I clasp them at my sides to keep them steady.
I’m dizzy and my ears are ringing—I know if I don’t leave soon, I will expose too much of myself in front of these strangers.
In front of Andras. So instead, I slip into that safe space inside myself, fading away from my own desires to preserve the secret my father has tried so desperately to keep hidden.
I nod slowly, turning away from the ring and leading us out of the Market Ebon.