Page 23 of His Asset

Leaning forward, I found myself drawn in by the unspoken code beneath the chaos.Unlike the cold brutality of the lab, this was something else.

This was performance.

Chief’s sweat mixed with blood.His eyes fierce but measured, disturbingly calm.There was honor in his fight, a quiet discipline born not of instinct, but calculation.

The people came willingly to watch the fighters pain, to savor their suffering.This wasn’t survival, it was entertainment, a dark dance that thrilled and numbed empathy.

Bloodhound landed a sharp strike, followed by another.Chief staggered but didn’t fall.The crowd erupted.I stayed silent, my mind spinning.How could anyone crave this?How could they find pleasure in others torment?

Maybe I didn’t see this as entertainment because I’d been a victim of cruelty.

Still, despite the chill in Chief’s eyes, despite my new set of chains he kept me in, he’d risked everything to protect me.

I pressed my palms to my hot face, trying to steady the storm inside.The crowd’s savage cheers felt distant, echoes from another world I didn’t belong to.I’d known pain in sterile rooms where every injury was a tool of control, where every cut, every scream had been calculated to break someone down.Here, violence was a ritual that was worshipped.Admired.Cheered.

A sudden grunt pulled me back.The fight raged on.Chief, bruised but unbowed, blocked a savage blow, his expression unreadable beneath his sweat and blood.The cameras lingered on his face, bright lights carving him into a living sculpture of power and pain.

The crowd roared again, a tidal wave of bloodlust.I clenched my fists, defiance rising.I might be caught in their game, but I refused to become part of it.I closed my eyes, seeking a moment’s reprieve from the chaos.I’d had more than enough.The roar dimmed to a hum, the sharp smells and sounds blurred.Just for a breath, I escaped.

But I felt Chief’s gaze settling on me, heavy and unyielding.Not just the weight of a fighter in battle, but something more—a warning.

A sharp grunt broke the fight’s rhythm.A misstep.The crowd’s roar faltered, their collective breath held tight.

Opening my eyes, I saw Chief lurch back, nearly losing his footing, his focus broken for a fleeting second.

Then he didn’t hold back.With a roar, he lunged at Bloodhound, fists striking with sickening thuds that reverberated through the air.Bloodhound returned a punch, a kick, before Chief’s blow to the side of Bloodhound’s head sent him down for the count.

I didn’t recall much after that.Only that one of Chief’s men came and got me, then led me out of the seating area and backstage.I angled my head down as I walked, avoiding the cameras as much as possible, but I was certain my face had been captured yet again on the big screen.

Reuben found me backstage minutes later after he’d accepted his title.His face looked grim.Sweat clung to him, darkening his skin and dampening the edges of his hair.Bruises already bloomed along his ribs and jaw, and yet he still radiated power, undiminished and elemental.

He stayed silent as he unwrapped the bloodied dressing and tape from his knuckles with a brutal kind of grace, his muscles flexing beneath his skin.His hands were rock-solid and strong even as they trembled slightly.

“You can’t ever leave like that again,” he said at last, his voice low and clipped.“Not when I’m in a fight.Not when it’s me against the world.”

There it was.The command in his tone.The chains wrapping tighter and tighter around me.

I lifted my chin.“And what if I need to get out?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second.“Then you tell me.You don’t run.”

Don’t run.Who did he think he was talking to?I wasn’t some reckless child.I might be naïve but I was far older than my years, where I’d spent every second calculating endless risks to buy myself a breath of freedom.

My fists clenched at my sides.I hadn’t clawed my way out of Adam’s gilded cage just to end up in another.

Reuben peeled the last of the bloodied dressing and tape from his knuckles.“Give me ten.I need to clean up.”

Take your time.

But even as I turned away from him, a part of my mind betrayed me.I pictured the water streaming over him, hot, fast, purging the blood and sweat from his skin, that same body that had moved with brutal grace in the ring.

I swallowed hard, hating the flush of heat rising to my cheeks.Hating that I still reacted.

No.

Whatever fire flickered between us, it didn’t change the truth.He might have risked his safety for me once, but he wasn’t my savior.

Not anymore.