The dim lights of this godforsaken pit barely illuminate the bloody spectacle below. Silver Blood and Red Wings, locked in the same dance our families have performed for generations. The stench of sweat and spilled blood is almost intoxicating, a grim reminder of the legacy we've inherited.

Across from me, you sit, eyes fixed on the brawl. In this moment, despite the chaos, there's an intimacy between us that's electrifying. The tension is palpable, as thick as the smoke curling from the corner of my lips.

I lean in, my voice a low rumble against the backdrop of the crowd's roar. "Fancy a bet, my dear? Winner takes all." A smirk plays on my lips, the promise of something darker lurking beneath.

Our legs brush beneath the table, a spark of forbidden contact in this den of violence. It's a reminder of the night we shared, a secret only we know.

"You're aware I'm not one to lose, sweetheart," I purr, my voice laced with both challenge and desire.