Breathe.Fucking breathe.
This wasn’t Preston, Brynleigh wasn’t in The Pit, and she would win this fight because shehad no other choice.
The Crimson Shade clambered onto the stage and stood on Dimitri’s other side.
Brynleigh’s heart thundered as she stared at the mountainous man. Isvana help her, this would fucking hurt. Even if she won, there was no way she’d be able to leave without experiencing at least a bit of pain.
Brynleigh was about to grab Dimitri’s sleeve and tell him she’d changed her mind when a familiar head of chestnut hair caught her eye.
Jelisette stood at the foot of the stairs, a cruel smile painted on her face. She caught Brynleigh’s eye and raised a brow as if to say,I’m watching you.
The warning was clear.
There was no backing out.
Dropping her arm, Brynleigh swallowed. This definitely hadn’t been her brightest idea, but it was too late now.
Dimitri strolled to the edge of the stage and extended his arms.
“The rules are simple.” The Alpha’s voice boomed. “No fangs. No wings. No blades. The first one to knock out their opponent wins.”
Oh, gods, this was even worse than Brynleigh had initially thought.
Dimitri stepped onto the first stair and yelled, “Begin.”
Bile rose in Brynleigh’s throat, but she forced it down. She could panic later. Right now, she had a fight to win.
The Crimson Shade turned to her. He held her gaze, cracking his neck to the right and then to the left. His movements were slow, almost lazy, as his eyes crawled over her.
“Ready, Little One?”
First of all, that name was horrible. Brynleigh was not little, nor did she appreciate the elf’s tone. Second, and perhaps more importantly, she was not ready.
But she was out of options.
Reminding herself of the reasons she was doing this, Brynleigh made a beckoning motion with her fingers. “Bring it on.”
The Crimson Shadewas built like a mountain, but he fought likehe was made of water. His movements were fluid, almost graceful. It was like he was one with the magic swirling from his fingers.
A quarter of an hour had passed since the fight had begun, and both fighters sported several cuts along their bodies.
Brynleigh’s breaths were labored, pressure was building in her head, and her heart was beating so fast she was worried it might explode.
For every strike she’d achieved, the Champion hit her back twice as hard.
Despite her resolve to win, Brynleigh’s limbs were dragging. Even lacking Isvana’s blessings, the Death Elf was almost as fast as her.
He ran across the stage, a war cry echoing through the warehouse as he raised his fist.
Brynleigh leaped out of the way, barely avoiding his punch. Drawing shadows from her palms, she sent them slamming into the back of his legs.
He barely trembled at the impact.
The crowdroaredas Brynleigh hurried to put space between her and her opponent. Every noise the audience made was tinged with violence. They were rooting for the Champion to take Brynleigh down.
In their defense, she was the clear underdog.
The Death Elf hadn’t even broken a sweat. Even now, as he danced on the other end of the stage, he looked like he was taking a walk in the park. A bloody walk, but still, a walk.