The Fighting Pits were not what Emily expected.
Her imagination had conjured images of a gladiatorial arena, perhaps a dusty underground ring surrounded by chain-link fences like in the movies. But as the limousine wound its way down a spiral concrete ramp deep beneath the industrial district of Seattle, she realized the reality was far more chilling.
The Pits were an amphitheater of polished concrete and tempered glass, buried five stories underground. It looked like an operating theater designed for giants.
"Remember," Ethan said, his voice cutting through the silence of the car. He wasn't looking at her; he was wrapping his hands in black tape, his movements methodical and calm. "Do not show fear. They feed on it. If you flinch, they win."
Emily touched the heavy platinum collar aro
