I stood in the middle of a fighting ring and waited.
Molly walked up to me with a syringe.
“You need all the help you can get, sugar,” she said before stabbing me in the arm with the needle.
Since my muscles had been looking bigger, I didn’t ask, and barely registered the pinch as I tapped my foot and gnawed on my lower lip.
Nerves rattled through me.
I glanced across the room at the other rings and noticed all the men were looking at me with concern.
A manic chuckle bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
We’d somehow resolved nothing and made everything worse. Which was slightly impressive if I really thought about it.
Jax loves you.
My heart tingled with warmth.
I’d woken up in a tangle of limbs, soft kisses, and satisfied smirks.
Until their faces had hardened and they’d sworn viciously as they remembered it was the day of the second trial and they’d used my body all night.
Cobra had shoved food into my mouth, while Jax and Ascher had massaged my tired limbs.
Even Xerxes, who’d slept on the chair all night, had freaked out and made me drink a bunch of water.
They were equally annoying and cute.
Now Molly’s voice was calm, but she looked worried. “Winning means you just have to survive one hundred fights. Each fight is ten minutes. All you have to do is not tap out or be passed out when the round ends. Your defense is your key.”
I nodded absently as I focused on slowing my breathing.
“It usually lasts about seventeen hours. There are only about three thousand alphas in this entire city, and about ten percent of them have shown up to fight today.” She paused and breathed deeply, like she was trying to calm herself.
“They will cycle among fighting each of you and will get tired themselves. You just have to hang in there. The worst part will be the end,” Molly pleaded, like she was begging me to survive.
She’d trained with me for these past four days, but she didn’t truly know me.
I didn’t bother to correct her. I had to conserve my energy.
My foot tapped faster.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held the numb for seventeen hours.
If the numb wore off, the worst part was definitely going to be the end.
The gym was purposefully darker today, and neon-red lights glowed like menacing eyes, cigarette and cigar smoke heavy in the air.
It was quiet with anticipation.
Molly pushed a mouth guard between my teeth.
Unlike usual, alphas didn’t mill around shirtless, lifting weights and shooting the shit. The only people in the fighting rings were the seven initiates.
We all stood still and waited.
Each of us had an alpha coach in the corner with water and a towel.
Z had explained that they were in charge of keeping us hydrated and helping with bleeding wounds.
I tapped my foot harder.
The anticipation gnawed at me.
Across the gym, Cobra’s jewels glinted as he stared at me. “You better not give up,” he mouthed with a scowl.
I rolled my eyes. He was so dramatic.
The memory of him whispering that he’d never stopped owning me, made my stomach flutter. I pushed the emotions aside.
Ascher gave me a thumbs-up, and Jax nodded at me.
Xerxes just kept staring.
I stretched my arms and breathed deeply as I pushed the memory of last night deep into the back of my mind and focused on inner peace.
Z’s voice was loud as he shouted, “One hundred fights will begin now! Let in the alphas!”
The doors opened, and shirtless alphas streamed in.
The tension ratcheted up as too many alpha scents swirled together to form one massive warning: predators were near.
A large alpha climbed into the ring across from me.
He scoffed as he took in my much smaller size, cracked his neck, and made a face at the alphas waiting around the ring.
They all laughed.
I glanced over at Cobra, who was glaring at the laughing men. He arched his eyebrow at me.
I winked at Cobra.
He smirked.
“Fighting Begins NOW!” Z’s voice boomed.
For the first time in this realm, I flipped the lovely little switch in my brain that had helped me survive nightmares.
The numb clicked on.
Sidestep right.
I cracked my neck back and forth as I easily stepped away from the punch my opponent had sloppily thrown.
The neon-red lights dimmed.
The world lost shades of color.
My attention focused on the task at hand as all emotions drained from my body. The world was an inhospitable place.
Duck. Punch his solar plexus. Drop low, kick out his Achilles.
I was heartless.
With smooth precision, I followed the numb’s instructions, my limbs gliding through the air like butter.
My opponent was not a battle-hardened gladiator fighting desperately in front of a million fae and an evil queen.
He was cocky.
Weak.
His flesh slapped against the mat with a satisfying crunch
With disinterest, I stood completely still and watched as he gasped on the mat and grabbed the backs of his ankles.
He moaned in pain.
I conserved energy.
For the next nine minutes and fifty seconds, he writhed on the mat and wasn’t able to get to his feet.
My kick had severed both his Achilles.
The alphas outside the ring who had laughed with him looked sick as they watched their compatriot imitate a slug.
A bell rang, signaling that the ten minutes were up.
Two men, betas from the burned smells wafting off them, grabbed his shoulders and dragged him out of the ring.
Molly squirted some water into my mouth. She opened and closed her mouth like she wanted to ask questions, but nothing came out.
In my numb state, she didn’t seem as comforting and nice.
I didn’t bother to explain, just turned away when the bell sounded and faced my next opponent.
Chop his trachea.
I did.
His esophagus collapsed, and he fell to his knees, clawing at his throat. The alpha passed out after three minutes.
If I hadn’t known alphas were immortal, I would have thought he was dead.
Not that I cared—I didn’t.
Bored, I watched the other initiates.
Ascher easily pinned his opponent to the mat. His shirtless chest rippled impressively, and his tattoos seemed to jump off his skin. A female alpha standing beside his ring openly gaped at him.
Across the room, Cobra was twisting a man’s arm behind his back and turning it unnaturally, slowly ripping it out of its socket. The man was screaming and Cobra was laughing.
Similar to my fight, Xerxes’s opponent was passed out on his mat. The omega stared down at him dispassionately and clenched his hands like he was imagining his knives.
There was a crashing noise in the far corner. Jax easily tossed his opponent out of the ring like he weighed nothing.
Clarissa and James were faring similarly. They had their opponents restrained beneath them.
With the numb coursing through me, I could easily see what was happening.
It’s a purposeful tactic.
A trick. The first fighters were told to throw their fights to build your confidence. It’s going to get harder as it goes. You must conserve energy.
Like usual, the numb was right.
The first twenty alphas barely put up a fight.
However, the intensity of the battles slowly increased, with the opponents moving faster and throwing with more intricate skills.
By the fiftieth fight, I was covered in sweat and actually had to fight the entire time.
At the seventy-fifth fight, something shifted in the air.
The alphas had come to some sort of unspoken agreement, and they attacked with everything they had.
My current opponent was a six-foot-five male with a similar build to Ascher’s. His lean muscles rippled under golden skin that had patches of leathery green ridges.
Backflip and spring left.
I narrowly avoided the alpha’s spinning kick, which scissored out at the end for maximum impact.
Swipe out his legs.
I dropped down and swiped.
However, as his legs were kicked from beneath him, he reached forward with his hands and grabbed my ponytail.
He hit the deck, but so did my face as he used his momentum to slam me into the mat.
Fist in the groin.
He released my hair, and I scrambled to my feet. He followed closely behind me, throwing quick jabs.
Punch his kidneys.
I barely registered my nose breaking under his leathery fist and obediently slammed my knuckles into his back.
He grunted but didn’t stop throwing punches.
The leathery edges of his knuckles protected his skin and inflicted maximum damage on my flesh.
My cheekbones cracked, and I used my momentum to punish his kidneys.
Hands up; protect your face. Only thirty seconds left. Move backward. Dodge.
I placed my hands in front of my face, and the bones in them cracked as he peppered my face with unrelenting punches.
His size had me pinned in ring’s corner, and there was nowhere to dodge.
Fifteen seconds left, just last.
A fist glanced across the side of my face, and I tried to make myself as small as possible.
The blows kept coming.
Slamming against my face, the alpha gave everything he had to break me.
My biceps shook, and I choked on blood as he rocked my protective hands back into my broken nose.
Ten seconds left.
I widened my stance, girded my loins, and took the blows.
Five seconds left.
Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I focused on surviving.
My opponent’s eyes were mostly swollen shut from my own hits, and his biceps bunched and slammed like a madman’s. He was desperate to break me.
Two seconds left.
His leathery fist slammed into the other side of my head. I ducked my neck lower and held my arms steady.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the round.
My opponent stumbled back, panting as he stared down at me with wide eyes.
Back straight. Stare him down. Assert your dominance.
I dropped my aching biceps and straightened my back. Instead of gasping for air, or crying from the pain, I gave him a haughty sneer.
He stumbled and reached out his hand to grab my shoulder.
I didn’t flinch, just arched my eyebrow at him.
“I’m sor…” He ran his bloody knuckles through his hair, embarrassed. “What’s your name?”
“Sadie,” I said coolly and forced my body to act relaxed.
Somewhere far away, my nerves screamed in pain.
“I’m Dean. Alligator shifter.” That explained the leathery green patches on his skin.
He smiled and held out his hand, and I noted impassively that he had dimples.
Shake his hand. Turn his hand over to assert your dominance.
I shook his hand and turned it aggressively. “Saber-toothed tiger shifter.”
His smile widened, and he opened his mouth to say something else, white teeth flashing against his gold skin.
Z shouted, “No talking to the initiates. Dean, get out of the ring!”
Everyone in the gym turned to us.
A low growl and hiss sounded, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out who was upset.
Dean bowed deeply, like I was a princess and not the woman he’d just been beating the shit out of for the last ten minutes.
The hiss sounded louder, and the growl became an outright roar.
Even numb, I smothered the urge to laugh at the scene he was causing.
He winked as he stumbled out of the ring.
Molly pulled me to the corner and said, “Only twenty-four more fights. Use your defensive maneuvers earlier instead of immediately jumping at them on the attack.”
She dabbed at the numerous cuts pouring blood down my face.
I licked my lips, savoring the sweet copper tang.
It tasted like power to me.
“I mean it. Stop attacking and focus on defense.” Molly poured water down my neck.
“I can’t,” I said calmly. Her mothering rubbed me the wrong way, and I had the irrational urge to smack her.
She pressed the towel against the cut on my forehead that was gushing blood into my eyes. “Why the moon goddess not?”
I smiled. “Because I want to hurt them.”
Her hand stilled.
The bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the next fight. I bounced back and forth on my toes.
Box his ears and break his nose.
I did just that.
When my much larger male opponent howled in pain and charged at me, fists ready, the numb voice in my head became slightly animated.
Dodge right. Kick his kneecap.
The big man roared, and I jumped out of the way of his swinging fist.
Ten minutes later, when the gong sounded, we were both contorted on the mat in impossible positions.
My thighs were wrapped around his neck, choking him out, and his tree-trunk legs were twined around my neck, slowly asphyxiating me.
We both released each other at the same time and rolled to the side, gasping for air.
He offered me a hand and yanked me to my feet.
With his alpha strength, he sent me flying, and his hands on my shoulders stopped my forward momentum.
“My name’s Loren,” he said, brushing white-blond hair out of his eyes as he stared down at me with a weird expression and offered his hand.
With his coloring and size, he reminded me of some sort of bear.
Turn his hand over and assert your dominance.
“Sadie.” I gripped his hand with all my might and shook it aggressively, just like I had with Dean.
He took a step closer.
Z’s voice was pissed off. “Once again, there is no fraternizing with the initiates. Loren, get the fuck out of the ring.”
From the ring next to mine, Ascher yelled an expletive. Xerxes said something I couldn’t hear over a hiss-yell, “She’s mine!” Jax roared again.
When I went over to Molly, she was silent.
She glared at me as she pushed unnecessarily hard at the missing chunk of skin on my arm where Loren had bitten down mid-grapple.
I didn’t wince.
Everything was going fine until twenty-two fights later, when the numb clicked off.
