I’m so fucked, I thought repeatedly as I was pushed and shoved down the cobblestone pathway into the colosseum. That place… Jesus Christ, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Absolutely incredible didn’t seem like a good enough phrase to describe it.
It was like an entire civilization was out there all on its own, cut off from the rest of the world. The rest of society.
I didn’t know Talon personally, but I felt like one walk though that town was all I needed to figure him out.
Spoilt little rich boy who never got Daddy’s love. It was so blatantly obvious that he might as well have a big neon sign saying so on every building.
Oh, wait, he does. Ha.
The overcompensation was laughable. Like when a guy with a small dick buys a huge, luxurious car.
“Small dick syndrome” is what I called it.
Couple that with the ego I’d witnessed on him at Dominik’s dungeon, and it was pretty fucking clear the man had severe daddy issues. All that shit aside, though, Talon had built himself a pretty impressive operation.
I catalogued everything, leaving no detail out; if I ever managed to get away from the guards, I needed to remember the way out.
Dimitri and I were led deep beneath the colosseum, down long, dark, twisting hallways and winding staircases made entirely out of stone.
Loud cheering echoed up to us from the bottom, like something you’d hear at a football or basketball game. The further down we went, the louder it became. It drowned out every other noise. The rattle of our chains. The thump, thump, thump of the guards’ heavy combat boots.
My suspicions were confirmed the moment we were shoved into the room.
There were only a few things in the world that had the power to rile up a crowd like that.
A gruesome fight match was one of them.
Smack dab in the centre of the room was a professional boxing ring—a bit of a history clash, considering the monument sitting above it, but whatever.
On one side of the ring, sitting on long, wooden benches, were other prisoners like myself. The chains made that obvious. On the other side was the crowd, cheering, gyrating and screaming for the people in the ring to continue fighting.
Based on the uniforms, I guessed they were other guards and soldiers.
In front of the ring sat three people, narrating the fight like commentators in the WWE, and then behind them were a few other prisoners, battered, bruised and bleeding. Several cameras were recording the ring, making sure to catch the fight from every angle.
A pile of dead bodies sat off to the side.
It didn’t look good.
What the fuck was going on?
I stole a glance at Dimitri, but the fucker was unreadable. All I saw when I looked at him was a strong, confident stance and hard eyes.
“Move it,” one of the guards barked, shoving me forward.
We were directed to the bench with the other prisoners and roughly forced to sit down.
“And we have our winner!” the commentator with the bald head cheered as one of the men snapped his opponent’s neck, killing him instantly. “Give it up, ladies and gentlemen, for Reggie Green!”
The crowd roared in triumph. Reggie didn’t share in the excitement, though. He fell back in shock as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He looked at his hands, shaking and covered in blood, tears welling in his eyes.
Guards rushed the ring, grabbing him and the dead body. Reggie was deposited next to the other prisoners behind the commentators—the winners from any previous fights, I suspected—and the dead body was dumped promptly on top of the others in the corner.
The next two prisoners at the front of the line were forced to take their places, and the whole ordeal began again. And again, and again.
“What the fuck is this?” I hissed under my breath.
Dimitri’s gaze flicked to me. Something flashed behind those cunning blue eyes.
He knows.
He knew what was going on.
“What. Is. This?” I repeated sternly.
He just smirked and said, “Pray you don’t get matched up to fight me.”
I glared. “I hope I do. That way, I can finally fucking kill you.”
“Right back at you,” he snapped.
I didn’t know what his goddamn problem was with me. He’d had it out for me since the moment he opened his eyes and saw me in Dominik’s dungeon.
We locked into our usual battle of scowling at each other as fight after fight took place. The commentators continued to describe every move, every action, congratulating every winner. Some of them had clearly killed before. There was no remorse. No hesitation. But others struggled with it, and ultimately paid the price for their humanity.
There was no room for humanity in an environment like that.
Two women were forced into the ring next—a tall blonde and a short, plump brunette. When the commentators announced the fight to begin, neither of them moved.
“We’re not fighting!” the blonde yelled out, shaking her head. She stood tall, trying to appear strong, but her voice quivered slightly.
“You can’t do this to us,” the brunette said, looking around for someone to help. “Let us go. Please.”
Talon’s face appeared in an instant on a television mounted along the wall. He gave a smug, condescending smile. “You know the rules. Fight or die. I want nothing but the best for my Til Death Games. If you’re not willing to perform and fight to the death here, then I can’t trust you’ll perform up there, and I will not be humiliated.”
The more he spoke, the more confused I became. “Til Death Games”? What the fuck is that?
“You beat the person you’re matched against here, and you’ll be given a chance to fight for your freedom. Refuse, and you’ll be skinned alive. The choice is yours. Decide now.”
The screen went black.
There was a brief moment of silence, then the two women lunged at each other.
“On your feet. You’re next.”
I looked up at the guard, contemplating whether or not I could get away with punching him in the balls. In the end, I decided against it for one simple reason. Whether I liked it or not, I was about to fight for my life. I couldn’t waste what energy I had on something so trivial.
But the fucker was on my shitlist. In fact, everyone there was. And that was a place you didn’t want to be.
I was escorted to the side of the ring, where another guard unlocked my cuffs and then shoved me so hard that I fell to my knees in the centre of the ring.
Fucking prick.
A few seconds later, a tall, dark-haired woman was thrown in with me.
The announcers were talking, introducing us and riling up the crowd of guards (I felt like they, too, were practising, preparing for the Til Death Games), but I barely paid any attention to them.
My mind switched completely to survival mode. Fight mode.
I released my hair from my hair tie and then quickly did it back up in a tight bun to make it harder to grab. She was tall. Powerful legs. Strong body. She worked out and took care of herself.
But can she fight?
I took one step to the left, and she took one to the right, mirroring me. And again, and again. She was studying me with just as much focus as I was her. Only one of us was going to leave that ring alive.
I could tell she wasn’t the type to hesitate. She would kill me if it meant her survival.
Around and around we went, watching each other closely, waiting to see who would make the first move, who would attack first.
It was me.
Fuck being on the defensive. I needed to take control of the situation. Control the narrative, control the outcome.
That was what I hoped, anyway.
I charged forward, lashing out with alternating punches and kicks, trying to fluster her and throw her off balance. Take her off guard.
She was quick, with good instincts. The way she moved, her footwork and level of skill in evading strikes and striking back told me she had some sort of training in hand-to-hand combat.
It wouldn’t be enough, though. I’d been trained by Elias Huber, a world-renowned assassin trainer. Spent over twenty years perfecting my skills. Trained every single day. Killed on an almost weekly basis. I didn’t have a conscience, a voice telling me what was right from wrong. I had no qualms ending a life, especially if mine was on the line.
She was good, but not better than me. That wasn’t ego. It was just a fact.
I ducked under a powerful swing of her fist, skidded on my knees around her as I wrapped one arm around her leg, and then tackled her to the ground in one fell swoop. With a sharp twist, I snapped the bone in her leg in half.
She screamed, the sound loud and deafening, full of pain, suffering and fear. Her scream morphed into a cry of anguish as she clutched her broken leg, a river of tears streaming down her face.
As a general rule, I tried to avoid killing innocent people. Not because I felt bad about it or anything. I didn’t possess those kinds of feelings. Was incapable of it, really.
It was because it was… Well… Boring.
There was no challenge in it, and the majority of the time, they just cried and begged for their life. There was no fun in that. No adrenaline pumping through my veins.
This woman—Tara, I think I heard the commentators announce—had managed to get my heart beating that little bit faster, and for that, I’d give her a quick death.
Let no one say I’m not the merciful type.
She was still crying when I kicked her down onto her back, far too overcome with pain to even try to stop me.
I crouched over her, grabbed her face in my hands and—
Snap.
Her cries ceased, and her body went limp.
I only had a second to stand to my full height before the ring swarmed with guards, and my cuffs were slapped back on my wrists.
Cautious, that lot were.
I was escorted over to the winners’ bench while Tara’s dead body was dumped on the pile like the rest, and on and on it went, like a vicious, never-ending cycle.
In pairs, the prisoners went into the ring, and only one walked out. Sometimes none. Talon would occasionally appear on the TV and deem the winner unworthy, ordering them to be killed despite having won their match. He only wanted the best of the best—the ones guaranteed to put up a good, entertaining fight.
I watched, eagerly waiting for that jackass’ turn. When a guard finally went over to him and pulled him to his feet, I smiled. Disappointing as it was that I wouldn’t personally be the one to end his life, at least I would get a front-row seat to the show.
Here’s hoping all those muscles were just for show.
