All Chapters of THE HIDDEN RIVAL: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

RIVAL’S POVThe pit reeked of sweat and blood thicker than usual that night.I knew something was off the moment Samuel’s men pulled Thomas away from me, pushing him toward the ring. The crowd howled, eager, hungry. I pushed forward, nearly shoving through two guards, but Samuel’s voice slid through the noise like a knife.“Relax, Rival. The boy wants the fire? Let him burn.”My fists clenched so hard my nails bit skin. “He’s not ready.”Samuel smirked. “No one ever is.”Thomas climbed into the pit like a man walking into his own funeral. The rails shook, the crowd already chanting his name. My name mixed with his.RI-VAL. THO-MAS. RI-VAL. THO-MAS.I hated it. Every syllable felt like a curse tying him closer to this place.He looked over once, eyes wide but locked on me. He tried to grin, bloody and stupid. My stomach twisted.Then the bell rang.His opponent was twice his size a pit rat with shoulders like slabs of concrete and fists already scarred from too many nights down here. T

RIVAL’S POVThe house was too quiet when we dragged ourselves back from the pit.Usually there’d be noise, the distant rattle of trains, the hum of old pipes, something alive enough to remind me the world hadn’t ended. Tonight it felt like it had.Thomas dropped heavy on the couch, head tilted back, chest rising in ragged pulls. He looked like the pit had spit him out whole but only barely, the bruises already blooming purple and black across his ribs and cheekbone. Blood still crusted under his nose. His knuckles were shredded raw.I stood over him with the first-aid kit, jaw tight.“Shirt off,” I said flat.He blinked up at me, still dazed, then tugged the fabric over his head with a hiss. The bruises stretched ugly across his chest. I swallowed down the hot curl in my stomach was part fury, part guilt. That was on me. Every mark, every ache, every ounce of blood.“You should’ve stopped me,” he rasped.My hands froze on the bandage roll. “Stopped you?”“From going in.” His lips twi

RIVAL’S POVThe house was too quiet.That kind of quiet that made every clock tick sound like a countdown. Samuel’s stink still clung to the corners even though he was gone. I hated that. Hated that his voice had wormed its way in here. This was supposed to be the one place the pit couldn’t touch.And now it reeked of it.Thomas hadn’t spoken since I’d snarled him down. He’d just leaned back into the couch, hands resting on his knees, staring at nothing. That silence of his wasn’t peace. I knew the difference. It was a silence packed with thoughts — dangerous ones — rattling around his skull.I should’ve been pacing, sharpening blades, planning my next move. Instead, I sank into the chair across from him, my ribs screaming in protest the whole way down.He noticed. Of course he did.“You’re hurt,” he said flatly.“I’m fine,” I snapped before the words even finished leaving his mouth.He arched a brow, slow and steady, like he was learning my tricks one by one. “That’s exactly what you

RIVAL’S POVMorning hit me like a hammer.Every rib screamed when I tried to sit up, and the bruise across my side burned like someone had branded me in my sleep. For half a second, I considered pretending it didn’t hurt. Old habits. But then I saw Thomas standing in the doorway with two mugs in his hands and that smug look plastered across his face.“You sound like an old man getting out of bed,” he said.“Shut it,” I grunted, forcing myself upright anyway.“Seriously. All that groaning? You’re like eighty.”I snatched the mug out of his hand before he spilled it, glaring. “You trying to poison me?”He shrugged. “Tea. Supposed to help. You’re welcome.”I narrowed my eyes at him over the rim as I sipped. Bitter, too hot, but I drank it anyway. “Since when do you play nurse?”“Since you keep pretending you’re fine when you’re obviously not.” He dropped into the chair across the room, folding his arms. “Someone’s got to stop you from breaking yourself worse.”I barked a laugh. “Cute. Yo

RIVAL’S POV The pit smelled like iron like always, before I even stepped inside. I knew that smell too well. Sweat, blood, dirt soaked into the floorboards, all of it mixing into a stench that clung to my lungs. My ribs already ached, and the noise outside made it worse — hundreds of voices howling for violence, pressing against the walls like the place could burst. I kept my shoulders straight, steps steady, even as every movement sent fire through my side. Weakness wasn’t an option here. The crowd could smell it as quick as blood in the water. The bouncer at the back door gave me a look. Not pity — no one in Samuel’s world wasted pity. More like curiosity. Like he was already betting against me. “Rival,” he grunted. I brushed past him without answering. My boots hit the concrete steps down to the tunnel, each echo like a countdown. The lights hit me before Samuel’s voice did. Harsh, white, burning spots that turned the dirt ring into a stage. The crowd rose around it, s