When I hear the skirmish behind me, feet quick on the hard floor, I realize they know it. I don’t need the glance over my shoulder to know that Dimitri is back there, taking out some of his own vengeance, but I still do it, a quick flick of my eyes. It’s fast enough to catch the punch he lands on the guy’s face, the fleshy sound of bone hitting bone making me wince.
At least he’s not brandishing his knife.
Killian breaks through to the front, stopping by the edge of the ring, and then he turns to me, expression so impassive that one might think this is just another day.
“You need to sign in,” Killian says, pointing to the table set up by the ring.
I glance over his shoulder and see that the normally flat stage has been modified with a large inflatable pool. Inside is what must be hundreds of pounds of red and green Jell-O. My nose wrinkles at the thought of stepping into it. The cloud of cherry-lime smell is practically visible.
“We’re all in luck.” The DKS guy from before—Simon, Pretty Nick’s brother—is sitting behind the table, a metal box opened in front of him. His eyes are fixed to the stack of money his fingers are deftly carding through, counting, but he’s speaking to my stepbrother. “This match just got a whole lot easier. The bracket’s always a bit fucked when there’s five.”
Tristian watches him, jerking his chin. “What, someone drop out?” My stomach sinks at the possibility Sutton won’t be here.
But it’s unnecessary. “Yes.” Simon finally looks up from the money, giving the stack a tap on the table. “As of three hours ago, the Princess took her tiara out of the ring.”
Tristian lets out a loud, harsh laugh. “No shit?” It takes me a moment to catch on. It’s when his blue eyes meet mine, mouth smirking, that it hits me. “Looks like I’m winning all kinds of bets tonight, sweetheart.”
Still, I ask, “She’s pregnant? Already?”
Simon shrugs, jotting something down on the paper before shoving it into the box. “Can’t risk the health of the demon spawn. That means you’re fighting the Baroness first. Whoever wins that match will square up against whoever wins the match between the Duchess and the Countess.” He points to the left side of the ring, where a giant chalkboard has been set up with our four positions.
I give Killian a frustrated look, not expecting this. “I came here to beat the Countess,” I tell Simon, letting Tristian’s arm fall from my shoulders. “So you’re saying if one of us loses, I can’t?”
Simon leans back in his chair. “You’re talking to a future Duke, Lady.” His eyes rake down my body in a way that makes Killian step closer. “We don’t need some sleazy, Royalty-organized charity event to gift someone with a gold-star ass-whooping. But, hey. If you do?” He raises an eyebrow, face stony. “Then my advice is to not lose.” Before I can argue, he slides a notebook across the table, slapping a pen in the middle. “The rules are so basic, even a girl can handle them. First to tap out loses. No weapons, no hits below the belt, eyes are off limits. Other than that, you can consider this no holds barred. So if you’re going to get all precious about a few bruises and a little blood, then there’s the door. Don’t waste our time.”
Killian bites out a sharp, “Watch it, Sy.”
Simon doesn’t miss a beat, pointing to the sheet next to the book. “The rounds last one minute each, three rounds total. The leader is determined by crowd approval, so if you want to win, you better put on a show.” The guy looks up at me with a cold expression. “But that should be no problem for you, right?”
“I said,” Killian slams his hand down on the table, “watch it.”
“She’s a big girl, isn’t she?” Simon holds my stare, and a few months ago I might have withered at the hardness within it. Not now, though. “For some reason, my idiot brother has put down a lot of capital on you winning this.”
“Then he can send me a fruit basket when I do,” I reply, shooting him a saccharine grin. These people might be vipers, but I’ve got fangs of my own.
Simon looks away, head shaking. “We don’t mind a little dirty play, Lady, but don’t forget what this is: A charity match. Try to keep your tits inside your bikini. We host fights, not pornos.”
My eye twitches, but when Killian shoves in front of me, I grab his arm, dragging him back. “That’s rich, coming from a member of the house who chose the sleazy costumes for their sleazy event.”