Chapter 3
KIERAN
Eighteen months before Eden went missing…
T he cages are loud and chaotic as always. And I love it.
There is no better breeding ground in the city for violence.
It’s why I like to come down here. I feed off the energy, the bloodlust that runs rampant.
Here, people are fighting for their lives—either literally or to gain a better one.
Win the challenge, ascend to a higher class.
Lose a challenge, you often lose your life, too.
Jude, however, is not impressed. He leans in close, his voice low. “You do know that these events are broadcasted, yeah?”
I chuckle. “Live a little, Jude. It’s more fun to be down here. I like to hear their screams in person.”
His nose wrinkles as we pass by a group of rowdy men pressed up against one of the chain-link barriers. There’s chanting and screaming as they watch the fight within, no doubt having bet on the event. Something I’ll get a cut of.
Nothing happens in this city that doesn’t benefit me, after all.
“You have to smell them here, too,” he mutters, and I shake my head at him.
Most people would be surprised that I let one of my guards speak this way to me, even if he is a top Enforcer. But this is Jude . He’s practically family at this point.
“It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”
He snorts. I’m sure he’d roll his eyes if there weren’t plenty of people to see him.
“Any idea where Lochlan’s gotten off to?” I ask instead of torturing him further. I know he didn’t particularly want to come down here tonight, but I never leave the mountain top without Jude. It’s a rule.
Just like it’s a rule that Rohan has to stay behind if I do come down here. Given he will take my position when I die, we can’t both be at risk at once. Lochlan, on the other hand, is free to stir up as much mischief as he pleases.
And that he does.
“I imagine he’s found a place to bet and someone to pour his drinks.” Jude is no stranger to Lochlan’s antics. His lips twitch as he adds, “I’ve brought Till along to guard him.”
I chuckle at that. “Something I’m sure he’s thrilled about.”
Jude wipes a hand over his face, very clearly trying not to laugh. “It’ll keep him out of trouble, yeah?”
“That it will.” Because Till takes everything very seriously, more so than Jude. And that intense, almost paranoid behavior will surely sour any of Lochlan’s prospects. He’s probably the only one that Lochlan won’t get to break the rules—which is why Jude made the assignment.
“Which one do you want to watch?” Jude asks, eyes scanning the different cages.
It is packed tonight, several fights assigned to each mat to keep everyone entertained for hours.
The large space is sectioned off by the chain-link walls of the cages with room between each to walk about.
Throughout the building are large screens that show off the most interesting match at the moment—the same thing that is being shown in the square or that I could watch at home—as well as betting tables and bars.
The only lights are inside the cages, though, casting the rest of us in the shadows.
While most watch the matches from the crowds outside the chain-link fencing, fighting for a view as bodies pack in, there are some seats within the barrier. Those who can afford a premium seat can get close enough to have blood splattered on them if they wish.
And I have a seat reserved in each cage for whenever I want to watch.
Glancing up at the overhead screen, I don’t see much that draws my interest. I’m considering having the match list pulled for me to review when I spot three younger guards rushing past us.
“You’re sure he’s fighting tonight?”
“Yeah! Up here. It’s supposed to be the fight of the night.”
“That’s because they’ve both got a reputation.”
I turn toward Jude with raised brows, and he purses his lips. But he gestures in the direction the three men ran off, clearly telling me to follow.
People practically leap out of my way as I make my way through the narrow corridor toward the last cage on the right. Instantly, I notice that the crowd here is nearly twice the size as anywhere else. And the fight hasn’t even started. The timer above the door says that we still have five minutes.
Jude shoulders his way to the guarded door for those that will have a front row seat. The guard immediately recognizes him, pushing open the entrance and stepping aside.
I follow Jude into the ring, walking around the edge of the mat to the small section of spectators.
There is a small glass barrier that only comes up to my waist to separate the audience from the match itself, but it’s more for optics than anything.
If one of the fighters wanted to swipe a weapon from a spectator, they could easily do so.
I’d encourage it, actually.
In the center of the small group is a chair disconnected from the others, giving me enough space that no one would be able to reach for me—or more likely, stab me—without both Jude and I seeing the movement coming.
A gunshot is always possible, but I have my gear on and wouldn’t mind getting my hands a little dirty if someone dared.
Most of the people who can afford to sit at the edge of the mat, though, are too high to even process where they are. I’m perfectly safe to sit on my miniature throne and watch two people try to kill each other.
And Jude doesn’t think this is fun.
He takes his place behind me, and I lean back in my seat, watching as the staff starts to filter through the door on the far wall.
Every cage is attached to a concrete wall with an adjoining door that leads them to the back rooms. It’s where the fighters can get changed, seek medical attention, or whatever else they need.
Two guards lead the group. One comes to stand near the spectators.
While any manner of cheating and dirty fighting is allowed on the mat, the fighters cannot go after the audience itself—though thievery is on the table.
The other guard posts across the ring from the first, mostly for assurance. They will never intervene in a fight.
One member of the medical staff leans against the cage wall near the door.
Another person who won’t intervene, but fighters can prepay them to save their life—without interrupting the fight.
I’ve seen a handful of matches nearly end in both fighters killing each other, but a medic was able to save the winner in time. For a price, of course.
The fighters are always last, and as soon as the first emerges, the crowd outside the cage starts to get rowdy. I spot Jude tense out of the corner of my eye. He hates when there are too many variables.
Granted, he’s taken a bullet for me before and has a gnarly scar and a permanent ache from it, so maybe I can’t blame him. Not that I haven’t been shot a number of times myself. But Jude wasn’t born into this life like I was.
I take in the massive guy that has the crowd already shouting.
He must be a professional here, given his clear reputation and the scars covering his exposed torso.
Small white marks dot his skin, too, telling me that at one point he was lower class.
Only those who grew up that close to the valley are peppered in toxic scars like that.
I have very few from being up in the mountains. Most of my scars are from weapons—earned, like I like to say.
But the woman who emerges behind him is what really turns the crowd into a frenzy. She doesn’t even look in their direction as she steps out onto the mat, rolling her shoulders back, but fuck, I can’t take my eyes off of her.
She is gorgeous. Her thick, black curls are swept back into a high style, leaving them cascading down her back and keeping her face unobscured.
I take in her high cheekbones and angular jaw, her lithe form that is carved out of muscle and outlined beautifully in her dark outfit.
The thigh sheaths she’s wearing make my mouth water, and I find myself eager to see her draw her blades.
Every inch of her looks absolutely lethal in a way that is threatening to make me fucking hard.
And her eyes . Even from across the cage, I can see how bright they are. They are a golden brown, piercing even in the dark light.
She, too, is covered in scars. Though I notice most that dot her skin look older and are clearly from the toxic air. Few appear to be from the fights themselves. Which means that she either is new or she rarely gets touched.
Given her loud fan club, I have a feeling I know the answer.
I tip my head back, and Jude leans forward to hear me. “Do you know either of them?”
“The man on the right, yeah. He often takes challenges for class climbers—typically business owners or those that manage the supply chain.”
I nod, having expected this. He has a confidence about him as he stretches, telling me he’s done this plenty of times. Upper class challenges mean that they are much more difficult but come with a higher payday.
“The woman?” I ask, still unable to keep from staring. If she can fight as good as she looks, this is going to be an incredible match.
“I’m not sure.” I don’t have to turn my face to know that he is frowning. Jude hates not knowing an answer. “I can find out.”
I hold up my hand. I’m not sure I want to know yet. Maybe I can pry my answer out of her later.
If she survives.
The man turns, grinning at the crowd. He riles them up a little more before glancing over the spectators sitting across the mat.
It’s clear he doesn’t expect much of a reaction out of them, but his eyes freeze on me.
I raise a brow, and I can see him already mentally shifting his plan for tonight knowing I’m watching.
The woman, however, doesn’t take her gaze off her opponent. She’s a smart girl, cataloging the blades sheathed across his chest and the longer one strapped at his back. She’s already planning, and I find myself leaning forward as the timer runs out and a buzzer cuts through the air.