The stench of sweat, blood, and shattered dreams was suffocating, thick like a poisonous fog wrapping itself around the underground arena. Selene knelt in the dirt, wrists shackled in cruel iron chains that bit into her skin like a lover who wanted to leave marks. Her chest heaved, lungs burning—not from exhaustion, but from fury. Every breath was a silent scream.

  The crowd’s roar was a sick symphony of lust and cruelty, a pack of wolves howling for blood and broken bones. Selene’s violet eyes flickered beneath the grime and tears, burning like twin stars refusing to be extinguished.

  “Another one for the pit,” a guard sneered, hauling her to her feet. The chains clanked like a death sentence.

  And then he appeared—Leicester Ardyn Ashthorne. Silver hair cascading like a cursed waterfall, violet eyes sharp enough to cut steel, and a smirk that could freeze hell over. The bastard moved like a predator claiming his prey, every step dripping arrogance and menace.

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  “You’re fierce,” he said softly, voice a velvet knife against her skin. “I like that. So many crumble, but you… you burn bright. Tell me, little star—how long before you burn out?”

  Selene spat a bloody glob to the ground, the gesture dripping with defiance. “I don’t burn out. I burn through.”

  The crowd howled in delight as the iron gates slammed shut behind her, trapping her inside the nightmare they called an arena.

  Leicester’s gaze bore into her like a brand. “Chains won’t hold you forever,” he whispered. “But I will.”

  Cold iron shackled her wrists, but beneath her skin, a secret pulsed—dark, ancient, and fierce. Blood magic, forbidden and dangerous, simmered in her veins like wildfire beneath a fragile crust. A pact forged in shadows and pain, waiting for the right moment to consume everything.

  The arena was her cage, but the cage was only the beginning.

  Leicester circled her slowly, a wolf savoring the thrill of the hunt. His smile was cruel, but his eyes betrayed a madness that both terrified and enthralled.

  “You think you’re free,” he murmured, “but freedom is just another chain waiting to be broken… or used.”

  Selene’s voice was cold steel. “I’m not your captive. I’m your reckoning.”

  The bloodmoon climbed high above the crumbling empire, casting everything in a hellish crimson glow. Somewhere, deep beneath the glittering throne rooms and marble halls, darker games were unfolding. Selene wasn’t just a pawn. She was a storm brewing to drown them all in ash.

  And as the crowd’s cheers turned into frantic screams, the real war began.