Chapter 2

Elijah's POV

Despair filled my heart as the guards arrived. They locked me inside an iron cage and hauled me off to the battle arena.

Sinead turned to leave, but for some reason, she caught my gaze and paused. "I haven't been to the arena in a long time. Let's go together."

Wesley's expression shifted slightly. He still wore that dignified, gentle smile as he glanced at me, but I could detect a trace of malice lurking beneath it.

The battle arena stood at the very heart of the western coast. Spectators filled the seats. The moment I entered, the overwhelming stench of blood hit me.

Sammie Foster, my junior fellow bodyguard, heard what had happened and rushed to the arena.

She dropped to her knees before Sinead and begged, "Ms. Powell, the beasts in the arena are incredibly vicious. Even those who survive their matches end up crippled. Please, for the sake of everything Elijah has done for you, spare him!"

Before Sammie could finish, a boot slammed into her chest and sent her sprawling to the ground. She coughed up a mouthful of blood.

I was curled up inside a cage barely three feet tall, my body covered in whip marks. The moment I saw what happened, I grabbed the bars and shook them frantically.

"Sammie!" I cried.

"You two… seem to be quite close." Sinead's icy voice rang out before me.

My head jerked up in response, only to meet her cold gaze.

Wesley beamed brightly beside her. "Yeah. Anyone who didn't know better might think you two were a couple."

Even now, he was still making up lies to slander Sammie and me.

Fury surged through me. But before I could speak, Sinead moved again, and the words died in my throat. She kicked Sammie in the chest once more.

"Ah!" Sammie cried out in agony, spitting out broken teeth that were mixed with blood.

"No one can lay a hand on what's mine," Sinead said stoically.

I clenched my jaw hard while trembling all over, not daring to make a sound.

Sinead regarded me as her possession. She would never tolerate even the slightest thought of defiance, nor would she allow me to get close to anyone else. I couldn't let Sammie suffer because of me.

But as I watched the scene unfold, I suddenly found it all laughable. Tragic, even.

Because of a debt of gratitude, I'd sacrificed ten years of my youth and surrendered every shred of my dignity. Yet, in the end, I wasn't even worth as much as an outfit worn by Wesley's pet dog.

Perhaps I was trying to appeal to her sympathy, or it could be that I simply couldn't tolerate it anymore. In a trembling voice, I said to Sinead, "I just suffered serious injuries a couple of days ago. If you send me into the arena now, I'm as good as dead."

"Know your place," Sinead cut me off, her voice cold and merciless. "What makes you think you're entitled to defy Wesley's orders?"

Her words pierced through my heart like an arrow. In her eyes, I wasn't worth even a fraction of what Wesley was.

I could no longer bring myself to beg.

Just then, the spectators on both sides of the arena broke into a chorus of shouts and jeers, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I looked up.

On the opposite side of the arena, a six-foot-tall cage was wheeled out. It contained a lion. The beast let out a piercing, ravenous roar that sent chills down my spine. One glance at it was enough to make anyone's legs go weak.

"That thing looks terrifying." Wesley sounded startled, as if the sight had frightened him.

Then, he turned to look at me and added, "Even so, Mr. Storie is so formidable. I'm sure he'll win. But if he wins too quickly, that would spoil the fun."

"What do you have in mind?" Sinead asked indulgently.

Wesley flashed her a small smile and said, "I've heard that Mr. Storie's hand-to-hand combat is second to none."

Without a moment's hesitation, Sinead turned to the arena staff beside her and ordered, "Break both his hands."