RIVAL’S POV
The tunnel out of the pit felt longer than it ever had before.
Every step dragged, boots heavy with dirt and blood. My ribs screamed with each breath, my jaw throbbed, and the copper taste of blood still clung to my tongue. But the roar of the crowd hadn’t followed me down here. Up there, they were already moving on to the next fight, hungry for more.
That was the truth of the pit: no one remembered your blood once someone else spilled theirs.
Except Samuel.
He waited at the end of the tunnel, right where the light from the arena spilled into the shadows. Suit perfect. Smile sharper than broken glass.
“Rival,” he drawled, like we were old friends meeting after years apart. “Always a pleasure watching you work.”
I didn’t answer.
My eyes locked on his, steady, flat, unbli
