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I glanced at Greyson, whose face was as mysterious and closed as ever. Then he smiled faintly.
“What is it?” I whispered, leaning close to him.
“I love having you on my arm,” he told me as we reached the sweeping staircase that led down to the basement.
I believed him. But I glanced back at Carter, Jack, and Sebastian, who didn’t share Greyson’s current pleasant mood, and I thought having his old friends trail him was quite the pleasure for him, too, at the moment.
The air grew cooler and carried the metallic tang of anticipation as we went below ground, and I felt unsettled.
When we reached the bottom, the transformation was stark. The opulence above gave way to a raw, brutal aesthetic below. The room stretched out, dominated by an enormous ring set in the center, its ropes reminding me of chains. Seats rose up around it, amphitheater-style, slowly filling with spectators. Electricity permeated the air.
“You can warm up in there until you’re called,” Greyson’s voice cut through the noise. He gestured toward a door off to the side of the arena, his tone brokering no argument. “And the medic will meet you there after your fight.”
The unease in my stomach twisted as if it were alive.
Carter nodded, his face expressionless. Sebastian, ever stoic, gave nothing away as he followed Carter. But Jack lingered, and our gazes met.
“Come,” Greyson ordered, and Carter watched me until Greyson had pulled me away toward his own special seating area, with the best view of the house.
Not that I wanted to see my men fight.
Greyson sprawled back in his seat…or maybe I should say throne. It felt like a throne for a king or the god of his underground realm. His arm snaked around my waist, tugging me closer until I was forced onto his lap, and it felt like a display of possession as much as affection.
I tensed, feeling the urge to run to Carter, Jack, and Sebastian and check in on them. But I would only distract them now. Meanwhile, Greyson’s touch was unexpectedly gentle, almost protective.
“Kennedy,” his lips brushed against my ear, sending an involuntary rush down my spine. “Weren’t you going to distract me?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, reminding me of the stakes.
“I’m worried about them,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
His lips grazed the back of my neck, sending heat flooding through my body. His voice in my ear was warm, the tone Greyson only used with me. “Don’t worry, Kennedy. I’ll humble them, but I’m not going to hurt them. Not when they matter to you.”
The same warmth in his tone glowed in my chest. I leaned back into his arms, letting him hold me close.
Sometimes, I felt like Greyson could either ruin me or make me his queen. There was no in-between for him. It felt like that was the case for all of us; we were all tied together, and we’d rise or fall together.
The announcer stepped out into the center of the ring and started to pump up the crowd. His voice boomed through the arena, even louder than his bright green mohawk or his electric orange blazer.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellowed like a circus ringleader, “tonight, we have three prodigal sons stepping up to claim their place among the Jackals again! Who will challenge them?”
One by one, fighters came out from the crowd, accompanied by cheers. A mountain of a man with a beard straight from the Viking era. Another had a scar running down his face, his gaze ruthless. The third—a tower of muscle and sinew whose head seemed too small for all that bulk—gave the crowd a sinister smile. All of it made me freak out.
Then I saw Carter, Jack, and Sebastian, shirtless now, in all their tanned, muscular glory. My breath caught in my chest. I hated for them to think I was siding with Greyson. I cared aboutall of them—needed all of them—and I wanted them to go into the ring knowing how much I loved them.
“Excuse me,” I murmured to Greyson, sliding off his lap with urgency. “I’ll be right back.”
“Kennedy.” His voice was stern. He reached for me, but I slipped away and melted through the crowd. People moved out of my way, parting like a sea until I reached where Carter stood. His posture was stiff with apprehension, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
I wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace, my cheek pressed against his hard muscles. “Good luck.”
Carter’s hug was comforting. I clung to the warmth of his body for a moment longer, drawing strength from his resolve, before releasing him.
But Jack didn’t hesitate. When I turned away from Carter, I turned into him, and he gripped me fiercely, pulling me into a tight hug.
Our lips crashed together in a desperate kiss that spoke volumes of the stakes tonight. It was rough, demanding, filled with an urgency that left me breathless.
“Thank you for doing this for me,” I murmured between our lips.
“Kennedy, I’d do anything for you.” His voice was low and filled with promise.
