Braxton’s POV
The scent of dust, iron, and sweat hit me the second I stepped into the underground arena.
It wasn’t a room. It was a battlefield disguised as a basement, lit by rows of harsh lights, with racks of weapons gleaming along the stone walls, and old scars embedded into the floor like memories that refused to fade.
This wasn’t Damon’s usual polished world of suits and silence. This was something older. Rougher. Ours.
Lukas stumbled in behind me, yawning, his hair sticking up in four directions. “I think I’m still asleep,” he muttered, scratching his belly. “Or dead. That’s also possible.”
Eros clapped once, loud enough to echo. “You’re awake. That’s enough.”
That’s when they stepped out of the shadows… four men, not dressed in human clothes, but leather, fur-lined cloaks, ol
