Page 6 of Fractured Memories

Nothing happens in this city that doesn’t benefit me, after all.

“You have to smell them here, too,” he mutters, and I shake my head at him.

Most people would be surprised that I let one of my guards speak this way to me, even if he is a top Enforcer. But this is Jude. He’s practically family at this point.

“It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”

He snorts. I’m sure he’d roll his eyes if there weren’t plenty of people to see him.

“Any idea where Lochlan’s gotten off to?” I ask instead of torturing him further. I know he didn’t particularly want to come down here tonight, but I never leave the mountain top without Jude. It’s a rule.

Just like it’s a rule that Rohan has to stay behind if I do come down here. Given he will take my position when I die, we can’t both be at risk at once. Lochlan, on the other hand, is free to stir up as much mischief as he pleases.

And that he does.

“I imagine he’s found a place to bet and someone to pour his drinks.” Jude is no stranger to Lochlan’s antics. His lips twitch as he adds, “I’ve brought Till along to guard him.”

I chuckle at that. “Something I’m sure he’s thrilled about.”

Jude wipes a hand over his face, very clearly trying not to laugh. “It’ll keep him out of trouble, yeah?”

“That it will.” Because Till takes everything very seriously, more so than Jude. And that intense, almost paranoid behavior will surely sour any of Lochlan’s prospects. He’s probably the only one that Lochlan won’t get to break the rules—which is why Jude made the assignment.

“Which one do you want to watch?” Jude asks, eyes scanning the different cages.

It is packed tonight, several fights assigned to each mat to keep everyone entertained for hours. The large space is sectioned off by the chain-link walls of the cages with room between each to walk about. Throughout the building are large screens that show off the most interesting match at the moment—the same thing that is being shown in the square or that I could watch at home—as well as betting tables and bars. The only lights are inside the cages, though, casting the rest of us in the shadows.

While most watch the matches from the crowds outside the chain-link fencing, fighting for a view as bodies pack in, there are some seats within the barrier. Those who can afford a premium seat can get close enough to have blood splattered on them if they wish.

And I have a seat reserved in each cage for whenever I want to watch.

Glancing up at the overhead screen, I don’t see much that draws my interest. I’m considering having the match list pulled for me to review when I spot three younger guards rushing past us.

“You’re sure he’s fighting tonight?”

“Yeah! Up here. It’s supposed to be the fight of the night.”

“That’s because they’ve both got a reputation.”

I turn toward Jude with raised brows, and he purses his lips. But he gestures in the direction the three men ran off, clearly telling me to follow.

People practically leap out of my way as I make my way through the narrow corridor toward the last cage on the right. Instantly, I notice that the crowd here is nearly twice the size as anywhere else. And the fight hasn’t even started. The timer above the door says that we still have five minutes.

Jude shoulders his way to the guarded door for those that will have a front row seat. The guard immediately recognizes him, pushing open the entrance and stepping aside.

I follow Jude into the ring, walking around the edge of the mat to the small section of spectators. There is a small glass barrier that only comes up to my waist to separate the audience from the match itself, but it’s more for optics than anything. If one of the fighters wanted to swipe a weapon from a spectator, they could easily do so.

I’d encourage it, actually.

In the center of the small group is a chair disconnected from the others, giving me enough space that no one would be able to reach for me—or more likely, stab me—without both Jude and I seeing the movement coming. A gunshot is always possible, but I have my gear on and wouldn’t mind getting my hands a little dirty if someone dared.

Most of the people who can afford to sit at the edge of the mat, though, are too high to even process where they are. I’m perfectly safe to sit on my miniature throne and watch two people try to kill each other.

And Jude doesn’t think this is fun.

He takes his place behind me, and I lean back in my seat, watching as the staff starts to filter through the door on the far wall. Every cage is attached to a concrete wall with an adjoining door that leads them to the back rooms. It’s where the fighters can get changed, seek medical attention, or whatever else they need.

Two guards lead the group. One comes to stand near the spectators. While any manner of cheating and dirty fighting is allowed on the mat, the fighters cannot go after the audience itself—though thievery is on the table. The other guard posts across the ring from the first, mostly for assurance. They will never intervene in a fight.