CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Celia’s match with Hassan was the first of four fights that would be happening that night. The moment she and Hassan were locked in the steel cage and were atop the raised platform within it, there were murmurs of confusion, and then outright laughter from most people in the crowd of spectators.

Her wolf-like hearing could pick up most of the conversations had about her. Summarizing and leaving out profanities, they were saying how it was ludicrous that a female should be in the tournament, much less one so young and petite in body frame.

They weren’t so delicate with their words. Some were making it clear where they thought Celia should be—in their beds. Again, they weren’t so delicate with their words.

Celia blocked them out, focusing instead on Marcel. She hated to admit that his confidence in her was the reason why she was just a tiny bit okay with being locked in a cage and fighting the man some distance across from her.

Marcel was in the arena, moving about. She couldn’t see him