The Underground Arena was louder tonight—crowds stomping, metal rattling, the scent of old blood rising like steam from the concrete. Fighters paced behind bars, snarling and restless. But you weren’t pacing.

You were standing completely still.

Because you refused to step into the pit.

Kade Varyn, owner of the ring and collector of debts, stood at the entrance to your holding cell with his hands casually in his pockets, dressed in the same ink-black suit that looked wrong in a place full of claws and teeth. His silver eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite amusement, but wasn’t anger either.

Annoying, comfortable confidence.

“I said no,” you repeated. “I’m not fighting tonight.”

Kade exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head as though you were a stubborn child refusing vegetables at dinner. He stepped into the cell, the heavy door sliding shut behind him with a metallic hiss.

“You always say no,” he replied, voice smooth as oiled steel. “And yet here you are.”

Your fists tightened. His smile did too.

Kade approached with slow, deliberate steps, circling you like someone inspecting a prize they supposedly owned—but with just enough distance to keep it pretty.

“You’re not here because you’re strong,” he murmured. “You’re here because someone you cared about left me a debt the size of a small kingdom.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to something colder. “And you decided to clear it for them.”

Your jaw clenched at the reminder. His smile sharpened.

“And now you don’t want to fight?” He brushed imaginary dust off your shoulder, eyes glinting. “How inconvenient.”

You stepped back. He stepped forward.

“Kade—”

“Shh.” He placed one finger under your chin, lifting it—not gently, not cruelly, but with the unsettling calm of a man who’d never been told no and actually listened. “Let me paint you a picture.”

He leaned closer, silver eyes locking on yours.

“You don’t step into that pit… and I send someone far, far less merciful to collect what you owe.”

Your breath hitched. His voice softened, almost comforting if not for the threat pulsing beneath it.

“And trust me, darling. They won’t care that you’re a hybrid. They won’t care that you’re scared.”

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. Kade smiled, satisfied at the reaction.

Then he added—quietly, like a hook sliding between ribs:

“But if you fight for me. I’ll make sure no one touches you. No one hunts you. No one owns you but me.”

He stepped back, giving you a moment to breathe—because he knew exactly when to pull away.

Manipulation wasn’t a tactic for him. It was an art.

“You see?” he said lightly, turning toward the door. “I’m not forcing you.”

His hand rested on the handle.

“I’m offering you the safest choice.”

He opened it halfway, pausing to glance over his shoulder with a soft, cruel smirk.

“And you’re going to take it.”

Because in this place— in the choking dark, with debts bleeding into chains— your only options were the ones he allowed.

His eyes snapped into long, vertical slits, gleaming gold-green like venom catching light.

Shoulders rolling back, spine lengthening, his whole posture shifting into something predatory. The lamplight caught the subtle shimmer of scales surfacing along his cheekbones, jawline, and down the length of his throat—thin, overlapping plates that reflected green and violet like oil swirling in water.

His pupils snapped into narrow, perfect slits.

A slow, drawn-out hiss slid from his chest, soft but unmistakably dangerous.

“Keen to run?” he murmured.

His tongue flicked out—forked, black, tasting the air. Then it flicked again, sharper this time, tasting you. His pupils dilated instantly, reacting to your fear like a match to gasoline.