20. Chapter 20
Arwen
We leave the next morning for Plethora, Kael’s territory.
Maddox concedes after an entire night of discussion and a battle of our stubborn wills.
Councilor West is almost giddy when we tell him. A slow, smug smile spreads across his face, the look of a man whose patience has finally paid off. The secret project he needed Maddox so desperately for can wait.
He doesn’t even try to hide it, and it’s obvious… he’s just happy we’re making a move on the chessboard.
At first glance, Plethora looks a lot like the little I’ve seen of Feastwell.
Tall buildings stretch into the sky, each one coated in gold and glass and competing with the next for spectacle—one spiraling upward in a helix of amber light, another shaped like a crown, its points disappearing into low cloud.
One is wrapped in a cascading video of a banquet table that stretches the full height of the facade, food piled high and replenished on a loop.
Music spills from overhead speakers lining the streets, layered and overlapping, too many songs at once.The helicopter sets down on the helipad, and below us a massive fountain pulses in choreographed arcs, water catching the gold light and throwing it in every direction.
A crowd has gathered at its edge, faces tilted up, watching it like it’s alive.
All of it hits at once, reminding me of the brief glimpse I got of Greed. So different from Wrath, I struggle to process everything. My feet stop moving. Maddox’s hand closes around mine and pulls.
It’s not long before the illusion cracks.
The contrast is paramount as we driver further away from the heart of the city.
The gold disappears. Buildings lose their shine, their edges less defined, lights dimming instead of dazzling. The music shifts too—same volume, harsher edge.
A few more miles and the streets change.
Clean sidewalks dissolve into clutter. Casinos with flickering signs lean into one another, paint peeling, windows cracked, some boarded, others just… gone.
Trash gathers in corners and spills into the streets.
We keep driving and it gets worse.
The road narrows, the pavement breaking apart beneath us. Structures stack on top of each other, patched together with scrap metal and warped wood. Instead of roofs, some of the small buildings have tarps. People crowd the dirt streets, looking bleak and worn down.
There’s no brightly colored hair or fancy suits here. Only a lot of patched up clothing and dirty faces. Even with the window up, the air smells rotten. Hollow eyes follow the car as we pass.
The poverty reminds me a bit of home... but the people here are stacked on top of each other so close to the excess of the city.
This isn’t just poverty. This is neglect.
“I’m sorry.” Maddox’s voice cuts through, catching me off guard. We have spoken little since the decision to come here.
One of his hands stays on the wheel, and the other reaches for mine. I let him take it, feeling steadier when his skin touches mine.
“Kael was supposed to be in Plethora proper,” he mutters, brows scrunched in annoyance. “Of course he decided last minute to take a trip to the blood markets.”
“Blood… markets?” I repeat.
He exhales through his nose. “It’s the fighting rings that make his territory so popular. It’s also the largest weapons dealership in Gluttony.”
Of course, it is. We couldn’t just meet up for a quick lunch, Universe?
“It draws the worst of Vail,” he continues. “Especially the fighting rings. Rich people who want to bet. People who want to fight and prove something. Or people who just want to watch.”
“Wraths?” I ask.
“Sometimes.” His grip on my hand tightens. “Sometimes other factions. But sometimes…” He hesitates, just for a second. “Sometimes it’s punishment.”
“Punishment? What the hell?” I ask, aghast.
“Hey,” Maddox says, glancing at me. “You wanted to come. I just want you to know what you’re walking into.”
I pull my hand out of his.
“You’re not scaring me off by bringing up fighting, of all things,” I shoot back. “Remember where I’m from?”
“I know you can handle your own, Arwen. I know that you're used to seeing violence. I just hate that you have to. When you're with me, I want things to be better, not worse.”
“You can’t hide the world from me, Maddox.
And fighting is in my nature. It’s not only viewed as violence where I come from.
But I think that forcing someone to fight as punishment is disgusting,” I add.
“Especially the people your brother thinks deserve punishment. Your family isn’t exactly known for their sound moral judgment. ”
The car rolls to a stop in front of a building that looks more like a bunker.
“We’re here,” he exhales, still frustrated.
The doors open and I recognize Kael as he steps out towards us with an enormous grin. Two men flank him, guns and knives strapped across their chests.
He’s a lot shorter than Maddox but built like the Universe overcompensated his lack of height with muscle and thickness. Scars cut across his face and his arms, disappearing beneath his shirt.
“Maddox,” he calls, spreading his arms like we’ve just arrived at a celebration. “I thought you’d never come visit me.”
His gaze slides to me. “And with my new sister in tow.”
He gestures wildly with his hands when he talks, which would be fine if he didn’t have a loaded gun in his palm.
“Don’t be shy,” he says, already stepping toward me. “Give your brother a hug.”
Kael closes the distance between us as Maddox moves.
One second Kael’s closing the distance and the next, Maddox is in front of me, solid and immovable.
“I don’t think so.” Maddox’s tone sends ice down my spine. It’s much more frightening than the growly voice I’ve become accustomed to.
The two men behind Kael raise their guns in one smooth motion, and my heart stops dead in my chest.
Kael pauses, then laughs.
“Whoa, bro. Relax.” He lifts his free hand, still smiling like this is all part of the fun. “Just being friendly.”
He glances back at his guards. “Put those away, guys. Come on. This is family!”
Kael’s smile doesn’t falter, but something in his posture tightens.
“Boy, do I have a treat for you,” he continues, already turning toward the doors. “Come inside. The fights are just getting started.”
I want to ask Maddox if the fights haven’t started, then why are there fresh blood drops on his pants… but probably best not to dwell.
We follow him inside, and the loud sound hits my ears hard and fast. Shouting, cheering, something slamming against metal, the sharp crack of impact followed by a roar that feels hungry. The air is thick with sweat and the familiar scent of blood.
Now this feels like home.
But instead of a dirt pit, the place is full of concrete walls and exposed beams. The space opens up as we move deeper, revealing levels stacked above and around a central ring caged in metal.
People crowd every inch. Pressed together, leaning over railings, shouting down at the entertainment below.
The chaos of the masses part for Kael, guards falling into step behind us again. We’re led up a set of stairs to a section that’s clearly VIP, a booth overlooking the pit, enclosed on three sides with a clear view of everything below.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Kael says, already moving behind a counter stocked with bottles that look expensive. He sets the gun down and starts pouring drinks.
I step closer to the glass. Below, two figures circle each other inside the cage. One of them is already bleeding.
The crowd roars as I hear the clink of glasses behind me. Kael hums under his breath, at ease.
“Now,” he says, sliding a drink across the counter, “what can I get for you, brother?”
Maddox doesn’t sit. “That’s unnecessary, Kael. We came here to discuss Amaya and Riven. I know they are working on plans against me, and I know they have approached you.”
Kael waves him off. “Hey—no business talk right now.” He tops off his own glass, sloshing a little over the rim. “This is family fun time.”
I cringe. Maddox is not in the mood for family fun.
“We’ve got an impressive lineup tonight,” he adds, glancing at me with a grin. “Arwen, I know you’ll enjoy this. Being Wrath and all.”
So he’s done his homework…
And he’s not entirely wrong.
Maddox looks like he wants to burn this place down with his bare hands, but the first fight pulls me in before I can stop it.
It’s brutal, but it’s clear that they are evenly matched in skill. Both fighters move like they want to be there. There’s strategy and precision to it, and I get lost in the trance.
The second fight is faster. Bloodier.
The third—better.
I lean forward without thinking, tracking movement, anticipating hits before they land. The crowd’s noise fades just enough for the rhythm to come through again.
For a moment, I forget where I’m even in Gluttony. I almost relax.
Mistake.
The lights flicker, signaling the next fight, and I lean forward again eagerly.
A fighter I recognize from the first round steps into the ring. He’s Massive and confident. Already bloodied, but smiling like he’s ready for more.
My attention shifts to the other side. For a second, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
They lead him into the ring by the center of his handcuffs; the metal catching the light as he stumbles forward.
He’s much older. And small. They strip the robe off him, and the crowd laughs, and the sound crawls under my skin as my stomach turns.
There’s nothing underneath but thin shorts and skin stretched too tightly over sharp rib bones. His underfed body shakes uncontrollably.
“This guy volunteered?” I ask, my voice already off. “Why is he in handcuffs?”
I can’t look away from the ring.
“Oh no,” Kael says behind me. “This isn’t a volunteer. This is punishment.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“Punishment for what?” I ask, sharply.
Below, the old man folds in on himself, pressing his forehead toward his knees like he can make himself smaller. Make this go away.
My heart shatters for him as I recognize his fear.
“He took my merchandise,” Kael says, like he’s explaining a minor inconvenience. “Didn’t pay.”
I turn. “What do you mean—what merchandise?”
Kael launches into his story with the same big gestures and slurred words.
“This old man comes to me,” he says, pointing toward the ring, “says he needs a gun. Wants to protect his family, but he can’t afford to buy it outright.”
He laughs.
“I’m a generous king, you know? I take care of my people. So I offer him a payment plan.”
“What?” I ask, horrified.
“He takes it. But then?” Kael shrugs, grinning. “A few months later, he can’t pay.”
I stare at him, eyes narrowed.
“Surely,” I say, each word controlled, tight, “there are other options than forcing him into a fight he can’t win.”
The bell rings and my head snaps back to the ring.
It’s too late.
Behind me, Kael’s voice drifts, amused. “Are you sure your bonded has the stomach for Gluttony?”
I don’t react. I press my nails into my palms instead, grounding myself in the sting.
We need him. I remind myself.
We need him on our side.
We—
The fight starts…. if you can call it that.
The experienced fighter doesn’t rush. He circles, slow and deliberate. Riling up the crowd with taunts and jokes.
The old man swings first. It’s unsteady in his weak arms, and the crowd erupts in laughter.
The larger fighter dodges. Smiles. Plays with him. Lets him try again. And again.
The bigger man sighs like he’s bored. Then he moves like lightning.
A single hit.
The sound cracks through the air as the old man’s body lifts off his feet and slams into the ground in a heap. He doesn’t move.
The crowd roars as the bell rings.
I turn slowly. I’ve been on the receiving end of an unfair fight plenty of times in my life, but never like that. My hands are shaking.
“You are a barbaric lunatic,” I say, the words breaking out of me before I can stop them.
Kael grins.
“Hey, hey,” he says, lifting his hands like I’ve just offended him in the mildest way. “That’s no way to treat your new brother, is it?”
His eyes gleam.
“Especially a new brother you want something from… right, little sinless?”
Something snaps inside me. Fuck needing him.
“I want absolutely nothing from you,” I fire back. “You call yourself a king?” I step forward before I can think better of it. “Your people are nothing to you but objects.”
My voice rises.
“I don’t see a leader. I see a child playing with toys he can break.”
Kael’s smile widens, apparently pleased by my outburst. Like this is exactly what he wanted.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” Maddox’s voice cuts in.
His hand closes around mine, firm enough to pull me back and anchor me before I can say something worse. Or do something worse.
I don’t fight him.
“Have a safe drive…” Kael calls after us, almost sing-song.