Bound To The Lycan Prince

Chapter 20

She jolted awake, startled by the harsh clanging against the iron bars. Blinking away the haze clouding her vision, Azzurra turned and saw Leone already on high alert, his sharp gaze fixed ahead. She followed his line of sight and her heart lurched.

It was Rinaldo.

Without hesitation, she sprang to her feet and stormed toward the bars, grabbing the front of his uniform and yanking him forward so hard that he slammed into the metal with a dull thud.

"Where is Maristella?" she snarled through clenched teeth, eyes blazing. "What the hell did you do to her?"

Rinaldo’s jaw tightened. With a sudden move, he jerked back and caught her wrists, squeezing with brutal force. Azzurra let out a sharp hiss of pain as her grip faltered.

“Stay in your place, b***h,” he sneered, eyes filled with contempt. “If you weren’t the princes’ pathetic little pet, you’d be rotting right next to that other w***e, Maristella. And don’t worry you’ll see her soon enough.”

He shoved her roughly, sending her staggering backward. She clutched her wrist, already reddened and sore. They were monsters stronger, crueler, and merciless.

“Chain them and bring them to the tournament hall,” Rinaldo barked before storming off. Instantly, the door flew open and guards flooded in, chains in hand.

There was no time to react. One by one, they were bound and blindfolded, herded like cattle. She couldn’t tell how far they walked only that the air grew heavier and the stench of the truck they were shoved into was foul and animalistic.

When the blindfolds were finally removed, Azzurra blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting as she rubbed at the sore skin around her wrists. Her breath caught.

Maristella stood before her.

But that wasn’t all her stomach dropped.

Teodora was there too.

“Teodora…” Azzurra whispered, eyes falling to her friend’s stomach. It wasn’t swollen. Had she given birth? What was she doing here? How?

The room around her came into focus a massive hall built like an ancient battleground. Weapons lined the distant racks: axes, swords, knives, hammers, and shields. Cold sweat broke out along her spine.

“They're watching,” Leone murmured beside her, his eyes raised toward the tinted glass circling the upper walls. She followed his gaze and understood. This was a show.

A whimper from Maristella drew her attention. Azzurra moved toward her, heart twisting at how pale and fragile she looked, a wound darkening her jaw.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently, reaching out but Maristella recoiled with a sharp shove.

“Stay away from me,” she snapped, her voice ice-cold.

A mocking laugh cut through the tension.

“Your love for your kind is going to get you killed,” Teodora hissed, venom dripping from every word.

Azzurra stiffened, jaw tightening but the anger faded as she looked at her friend.

“How did you end up here, Teodora? What about your baby?” she asked softly. Despite everything, despite the betrayal, Azzurra still cared.

Teodora’s face twisted with bitterness. “Keep your fake concern to yourself. A Royal Guard bought me. And my lover he murdered my child because it was human,” she spat. Her voice was sharp, unforgiving.

Azzurra flinched. The hatred in Teodora’s tone cut deep.

Then, a shrill voice echoed through the vast hall, amplified by the sound system. Everyone instinctively tensed.

“Welcome to today’s tournament,” a smooth, detached voice declared. Silence followed, cold and expectant.

“Twenty-three contestants are participating in today’s grand event. The more, the merrier. You may place your bets on only two contestants. You have five minutes to review their files and place your wagers. Your time starts now.”

Azzurra’s eyes scanned the arena. Twenty-two others stood with her.

She was the twenty-third.

“Brace yourselves,” Leone said grimly. “They could send in the guards at any moment.”

“Grab weapons!” Azzurra shouted, sprinting toward the racks.

She snatched an axe not too heavy, but not small either and armed herself with two knives, one tucked into her pants, the other slipped into her sock. A shield followed, strapped tightly to her arm.

Around her, others scrambled. Leone tucked ninja stars into his pockets before wielding two swords with effortless grace, spinning them with deadly precision. He cracked his neck, ready.

God, she wished she could fight like him. If she were a betting woman, she’d put everything on Leone. He was strong, tall possibly the only one who could rival Marcello’s terrifying presence. But why was she comparing the two?

Her gaze darted toward the main gate. Any second now.

“Speranza, take this,” Selvaggia hissed, tossing a knife into her hands. She took it without question. Selvaggia retreated to Leone’s side.

Alfio clung to a hammer, shaking from head to toe.

Azzurra’s hands trembled. Not from fear at least not entirely. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She would take someone down with her if it came to it.

Did the King know Marcello had forced her into this? Did he know she was about to die for sport? Humans didn’t stand a chance against Lycans.

Then darkness.

A blackout.

“Don’t move,” Leone commanded calmly. He didn’t shout. He didn’t panic. He had the voice of a leader.

A moment later, spotlights snapped on, illuminating the arena in stark white. The tinted glass now revealed the spectators: a sea of elite bastards dressed in luxury, grinning behind their drinks and cigars.

Her gaze shifted right and her blood froze.

Marcello and Mattia sat on twin thrones that sparkled like crystal. Mattia looked thrilled. Marcello, as always, wore a mask of stone. Yet something passed between them. When his eyes met hers, a chill swept through her like ice down her spine.

Then Marcello leaned forward, reaching for the mic. A slow, sinister smile curved his lips just before his voice boomed across the hall.

“The contestants will now fight among themselves. The last one standing will be granted freedom and the right to live like an elite of the upper class, despite being human.”

And Azzurra’s world stopped.