Chapter 9 · First Blood In The Pit

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here, Vale.”

The auctioneer didn't look human. He looked like a walking burn ward. The left side of his face was a melted disaster of scar tissue and grafted leather—a permanent souvenir from the fire Evelyn had sparked in his private vault.

Beside her, Carson stiffened. The blood-bond hummed in her marrow, a low-frequency vibration that screamed his sudden spike of aggression. He stepped forward, shoulder brushing hers, cutting off the man's line of sight.

“Who’s this prick?” Carson’s voice was a low growl. The kind that usually made people back the hell away.

“A ghost from a bad investment,” Evelyn muttered, eyes scanning the perimeter. “He tried to sell my sister’s debt like livestock. I gave him a little makeover last time we met.”

“A makeover that left me craving your skull,” the man sneered. He stepped into the center of the Pit, boots crunching in the grit. Around them, the crowd exploded—a wall of noise, gambling shouts, and bloodlust. “The Warden hates interruptions. But he loves a grudge match. You want the map? Your sister's contract? You're gonna bleed for it.