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“We’ll see.”

10

ZEPHIRAN

She thinks she’s ready.

She isn’t.

It’s in the way her fingers move, in the way her breath falters, barely perceptible but there. A weakness she doesn’t even recognize in herself yet.

But I will show her.

She will know exactly what it means to survive.

The underground pit reeks of blood and sweat and something sour—fear. The walls are damp, torches flickering, throwing long, jagged shadows against the stone. The stench of spilled life clogs the air, thick and intoxicating.

This is where I bring her. Where I will teach her what it means to be mine.

She stands beside me, wrapped in the red silk I forced her into, the fabric now rumpled, barely holding onto her curves, as if the dress itself knows it doesn’t belong on her.

Her chin is high, her spine straight, but I feel the anger rolling off her in waves.

Good.

She needs to be angry.

I want her desperate as I am about to destroy and rebuilt her in a way she won’t see coming.

“Why are we here?” she asks, voice hoarse, wary.

I turn to her, trailing a single finger down her arm, moving in circles. She shivers, goosebumps appearing on her skin.

“To prove yourself,” I murmur.

She scoffs. “Prove what? That I can play your perfect little pet? I think we established that already.”

I smile softly. “Not quite.”

I nod toward the cage at the center of the pit. The metal bars gleam under the torchlight, coated in old rust and aged blood. The floor inside is nothing but dirt and grime and the bones of men who lost.

The crowd chants, restless, eager.

I keep my voice low, calm, deadly.

“You are going to kill someone for me tonight.”

She freezes as if she’s a block of ice and every part of her goes rigid.

I can feel her pulse thrashing in her throat like she wants to curl them into fists.

She doesn’t turn to me.

She looks at the cage.

At the man inside it.

A human.