Zara's POV
I stepped into the arena and felt the air shift. Not heat, exactly, but pressure. The crowd hushes as I reach the center, but it wasn't cheers, not scorn, just expectant silence. They're waiting. Something's about to break.
Mark is already inside. Leaning against a jagged pillar like it's his throne, arms folded, lips curled. He doesn't even glance at me.
"Zara," he calls out. His voice floats over the stones, casual and hurtful. "You did well last round. Surprised me."
I flare. "I'm not here to entertain you."
He laughs, sharply. "Come on. I was giving you credit. You surprised everyone."
There's a pause where he lets the words sink in. His eyes lock with mine. "Except your mother."
I freeze. My mother's name. a trigger I never fully disarmed.
Mark con
