Chapter 15 · Blood Money & Bad Bets

"Get your hands off me, you piece of trash!"

Kane didn't let go. He had Evelyn pinned against the rusted corrugated wall of the pit, his forearm pressing hard against her collarbone. The air in the blood-pit arena was thick with the smell of ozone, old copper, and unwashed bodies. Around them, the crowd was screaming, a wall of noise that blurred into a dull roar.

"Shut up and stay behind me," Kane snapped, his voice a low growl. "You think this is a cocktail party? One wrong step and you're just another chip on the table."

Evelyn glared at him, her chest heaving. Even covered in grime, she looked like she belonged in a penthouse, not this neon-lit slaughterhouse. She tried to wrench herself free, her shoulder brushing against his chest. The contact sent a jolt through the soul-bond—a sharp, electric spike of heat that made Kane’s vision flicker.

"I can handle myself," she spat, though her voice wavered. "My father owns half the syndicates in this city. These animals wouldn't dare—"

"Your father isn't here," Kane interrupted, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "And here, you're not a heiress. You're bait.