Mag-log in**Stella's POV** Sabrina turns around so slowly that I know—with sickening certainty—that whatever comes next is going to hurt. Her face is composed now. Calm. The tears have dried up like they were never there, and when she looks at me, there's nothing but cold amusement in her eyes. "You'll repay every cent?" She repeats my words back to me, her tone almost thoughtful. "That's very generous of you, Stella. Really. Very noble." Something in her voice makes my stomach drop. "But I have to ask—" She tilts her head, studying me like I'm a particularly interesting insect. "—with what money, exactly?" The question hangs in the air. "I'll find a way," I force out. "Once I'm out, I'll get a job, I'll—" "A job." Sabrina's laugh is light, delicate, and utterly cruel. "Oh, sweetheart. You're so adorable when you're desperate." She takes a step closer to the cage, and I see it now—the woman who's been playing this game far longer than I ever realized. "Let's be realistic for a moment
**Stella's POV** Sabrina's confusion vanishes, replaced by something calculating. “I went to talk to Stella,” she says. Her voice softens, dips into something fragile and vulnerable. “I wanted to reason with her. She’s taking Noah away from his birthright, and I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen. I thought—if I talked to her calmly, maybe she’d listen—” What? Rage coils tight around my chest. After everything I did for her, she’s lying. Again. "That's a lie." The words rip out of me before I can stop them. Three pairs of eyes snap to me. I'm still slumped against the wall, probably looking half-dead, but I force myself to meet Cole's gaze. "That's not what happened," I continue, my voice rough. "She didn't come to talk. She had rogues kidnap me from my home, drug me, and drag me to Hank's warehouse. I woke up tied to a spelled rope while she stood there taunting—" "She's lying!" Sabrina cuts in, her voice rising. "Cole, please, you have to believe me! I would nev
**Stella's POV** The guards shove me through the cage door. I stumble, catch myself on the chain-link, then slide down the wall to sit heavily on the concrete. Pain explodes through my cracked ribs with each shallow breath. Cole was there! The thought won't leave me alone. He sat in that arena, front row, watching me fight for my life like it was entertainment. And he did nothing. 'Because we're his ex-mate,' Piper reminds me quietly. 'We stopped being his problem the moment we rejected him.' 'But I'm the mother of his pups,' I argue, though even I can hear how desperate that sounds. 'Doesn't that count for something in this situation?' Piper scoffs, 'You tell me, Stella. One moment you're hoping he still cares, the next you admit he hates us. Which is it?' I don't have an answer. "Stella!" Sabrina's voice cuts through my spiral. She crawls toward me, eyes wide. "Oh goddess, you're covered in blood—" "Most of it isn't mine." I flex my fingers and feel Viktor's tooth grinding
**Stella's POV** I look back at Sabrina. She's pushed herself up to sitting, watching me with eyes that understand exactly what I'm facing. "If I don't make it—" My voice cracks. "—tell Noah and Maya that I loved them." Sabrina's face crumples. "Stella—" But I'm already being dragged away, down the corridor toward the arena where the crowd is chanting, thirsting for my blood. The guards shove me through a door into a small preparation room. Concrete walls, a single bare bulb hanging overhead, and a woman waiting with a medical kit. "Strip," she orders. "What?" "Your pajamas. They're already torn. You fight in athletic gear." She gestures to a pile of clothing on a bench—black shorts and a sports bra. I want to refuse and maintain some shred of dignity. But what's the point? I strip mechanically, changing into the fighting gear. The material is tight, unforgiving, designed to allow maximum mobility. The woman approaches with the medical kit. "Any injuries I s
**Stella's POV**Diana suddenly makes a sound that might be disapproval."You shouldn't have given her advice," she says quietly. "She's competition. The fewer competitors, the better your odds.""I'm not competing with her." I grip the chain-link tighter to watch the arena. "I'm just trying to survive until I can get back to my son.""That's what everyone here tells themselves at first."I don't respond. Because deep down, I know Diana's right.But I can't let this place turn me into someone who watches others die without helping.---Time passes with agonizing slowness.More captives are waking now, the underground space filling with the sounds of movement, whispered conversations, and the clank of metal as guards make their rounds.And above us, through the ceiling, I hear doors opening, accompanied with a lot of voices, and the shuffle of feet. I frown wondering if Hank has brought in more captives "More spectators are here," Diana suddenly explains. "Early birds who want good se
**Stella's POV** "Three months. Maybe four. Hard to keep track." She shifts, and I see the scars covering her arms, and face. "I've won fourteen fights. Lost three. Hank says I need thirty wins before he'll consider releasing me." Thirty wins?! At the rate of maybe one fight per week, that's more than half a year. "Have you seen anyone get released?" I ask, dreading the answer. The older woman's expression is answer enough. "No," she finally says. "Winners get sold. Losers get buried. Those are the only two ways out." A sound echoes through the underground space—distant but unmistakable. Snarling. Then screaming. Then silence. "That's cage seven," the older woman says quietly. "Beta male against gamma female. Wasn't even close." I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. I have survived places like this. I can survive again. "Hey," the older woman says. "What's your name?" "Stella." "I'm Diana." She pauses. "And the most important rule, Stella? Don't







