Anger shook Shadow. He glared at Carver across the arena of the mating dance. The fucker had killed Sivath, and he was going after Zana. He’d rip off Carver’s head with his bare hands. The spine was coming out, too.

Shadow didn’t doubt for a second that Carver would target Zana. Pricks like Carver were the underlying problem in goblin society. Greedy fuckers who walked over anyone. Everything they did was to benefit themselves; not the community.

Shadow stormed toward Carver. The bastard lingered deeper in the arena amid other goblins.

Someone punched Shadow’s lower back, right behind his kidneys.

An involuntary gasp rushed past Shadow’s lips. His knees buckled, and a barrage of twitches lanced down his legs.

The spectators booed, but such attacks were legit in the circle. Shadow looked up, watching a golden-haired goblin limp past. Den. The prick glanced over his shoulder at Shadow, sneering with the filthiest look in his eye.

If Den and Carver both wanted their asses whooped, Shadow would deliver.

He dusted his jeans and got up. He stared over at Zana, noting the dread etched on her face. Yep. She had worked out her predicament. No time to worry about might-haves or the unfairness of two against one.

A loud siren cried overhead, and the audience erupted into a cheer, stomping. The ground beneath Shadow quivered.

Once everyone quieted, Povian spoke. “A quick reminder of the rules. No weapons. Your goal is to mock fight initially. Impress the girl you intend to claim. When you hear the signal, stand next to your selected female. If you have a challenger wanting her as well, you must battle. Last one standing wins.” He clapped. “Let the mating dance commence!”

The rhythmic beat of drums began, growing faster, louder.

Surrounding Shadow, the single males started their acts. Some ran in circles. Others flexed their muscles, while the rest practiced kicking moves on invisible foes. Shadow loathed prancing like a peacock, convinced if he did, Zana would laugh. Most of the guys looked idiotic.

Shadow marched toward his targets. But Carver and Den fanned out in opposite directions, merging into clusters of other bodies.

“Shadow,” Povian’s voice boomed. “Show us your strength, or you’ll be thrown out. And you don’t want to that.”

“Damn!” Shadow yelled. Getting booted out meant leaving Zana to the whim of Carver, forcing her to spend the night with him. Fuck that.

Shadow unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off his body.

Whistles surrounded him, and even Zana was beaming. He winked at her and tucked the edge of his shirt into his back pocket. Shadow spun and did a lap of the ring, mainly to stretch his muscles and pin down the location of the dickheads.

Carver hovered near a cluster of goblins, stretching. Den hurried up behind Shadow, limping. Suddenly halting, Shadow sidestepped and swung around, a hand clenched. His fist collided into Den’s nose. Blood dotted his knuckles and a deep ache raced up his hand, but it was worth it.

Applause thundered.

Shadow lifted his hands in the air as a show of his mistake. No touching yet until the final siren went off, so better the audience believed it was an accident.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Den growled as he wiped his bloody nose. But instead of staying back, he charged, taking Shadow off guard.

Den’s tackle sent Shadow staggering. A slam to Shadow’s face, then another, had his head spinning.

Shadow’s vision wavered, but the dick wasn’t slowing. Shadow ducked the next swing and returned the favor into the goblin’s gut.

Den groaned and bent over, clutching his stomach. Despite Povian’s hollering, all Shadow could think about was Klurt. Dead. Sivath in a plastic bag. An inferno consumed his veins. He grabbed Den’s shoulders and drove a knee into his face. Blood splattered across Shadow’s jeans.

“Son of a bitch.”

Shadow chased after Den, but others grappled Shadow’s arm. He yanked free and ran.

Den’s lips twisted into a weird grin, mouthing the words: “She’ll die tonight.”

Shadow closed the distance and roundhouse kicked Den in the chest, sending him stumbling to the center of the arena.

Arms locked around Shadow’s stomach. Povian was there. “Son, stop. Hit him one more time and you’re out.”

The shaking refused to abide, and Shadow embraced the fury. But Povian was right. For Zana, he’d hold back. For now.

Povian called out, “Just a little misunderstanding. Let’s continue with the show. Remember, no contact until the siren goes off.”

Povian and his guards left the field. Shadow couldn’t move or stop staring at Den, who ran a hand over his face.

Every molecule inside Shadow implored him to finish Den.

Shadow pushed into a fast walk around the perimeter, slowing his breaths on purpose. He had to keep his mind straight. Two against one meant he had to hold his shit together.

He wiped the splatter of red speckles across his chest. When he reached Zana, he pretended to stretch his shoulders. Talking with the girls wasn’t permitted, but showing off was.

Despite Zana’s show smile, the worry behind her eyes implored him to take her into his arms and whisk her from the show. But he somehow doubted she’d agree to be the damsel in distress. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere while Carver was near.

She whispered, “Be careful.”

Shadow nodded as he curled an arm, flexing his bicep, coaxing a laugh out of Zana. At least she wasn’t crying, and he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

He turned just as the drumming ended and a siren blared like a howl, piercing the air. He dropped his arms and approached Zana, selecting her as his lifemate. Just thinking those words left him buzzing with warmth. He’d come here to join the festivities to find a partner, and he was doing just that.

“Hey,” she said. “Release me now. I’ll forfeit my entry. Don’t take Carver and his jerk buddy on alone.”

Other goblins moved to stand near their desired females, and the seething in Shadow’s veins intensified. “Carver isn’t walking out of here alive.” He took a step forward, staring at the shadows beneath her eyes and the tightness of her lips.

“Are you mad? Don’t ruin your future for revenge. You’ll never be allowed back in Pryvale.” Her voice implored him to listen.

Not happening.

His jaw line twitched from the earlier punch, and rubbed it, his fingers rubbing along his beard. He opened his mouth, ready with a response, when he spotted them. Carver and Den strolled closer, both stopping in front of Zana. They wore their bruises like badges of honor and held their chins high as if, somehow, they’d won the game.

Carver’s mouth opened, but Povian’s loud voice stole whatever bullshit was about to spill. “Looks like Zana’s very popular tonight. Three goblins battling for a female is a first. Everyone else who has found an uncontested, please untie her and exit the arena. Search for a lunar flower as your confirmed blessing from the goddess, and then return to complete your ceremony. As for the rest of the participants, now is your turn to show your future partner what you’re willing to do for her. One simple rule: The first goblin to successfully release the girl claims her. Easier said than done. All contestants step to the center of the circle. When I sound the signal, start.”

Shadow offered Zana a strong smile. One that told her he’d save her and everything would turn out fine. Even if he wasn’t so sure himself.

Aside from him and the two dickheads, there were six other goblins. Three other girls remained tied to poles.

Carver and Den stood not far from his left. The solution wasn’t running for Zana. It was disabling his opponents and giving himself the chance to free Zana.

The siren wailed.

Shadow’s heart slammed into his breastbone. Play time.

He swung toward Carver, yelling to catch him off guard. Several other goblins jumped at his sudden assault. Shadow planned to always target the leader because Den wouldn’t take Zana as a mate. Shadow’s palm flew upward, the flat part connecting with the underside of Carver’s nose and sent him recoiling.

Den stomped toward Shadow, slapping his own chest.

“Is that meant to scare me?” Shadow kicked him in the groin. Never be ashamed to use any moves. The army commander’s words echoed in Shadow’s mind. Den collapsed to the ground like a sack.

The crowd hollered its approval. For those few moments, Shadow had forgotten he was in a show with hundreds of goblins watching, wanting a spectacle. But it wasn’t about them.

Shadow sprinted for Zana. The remaining goblins were in brawls of their own, and they were none of his business.

Zana fought the restraints keeping her arms tied to the pole behind her. When she looked up at him, her face fell. “Watch out!”

By the time Shadow turned, a fist smashed right across the bridge of his nose. Shadow’s world whirred around him.

Another strike—that one to his solar plexus. Shadow lost his breath. Doubled over, he gasped for air. A piercing ache ripped through his chest like shattered glass.

Someone booted him in the ribs.

He fell.

Zana’s screams called for him.

Shadow shook his head. Carver was near, and Den stumbled closer. Drawing on his strength, Shadow lifted himself and pulled back. He’d lure both culprits away from Zana.

“Stop fighting and we’ll make it hurt less,” Carver blabbered.

“You offered no mercy for Sivath when you murdered him!” Shadow didn’t keep his voice low, but with the hooting and clapping, no one would have heard him.

Den dove forward, ramming his body into Shadow. The movement sent both of them swerving toward a girl tied to a pole. She screeched, cowering.

Shadow shoved Den off him. He thrust his fingers at the goblin, gouging his eyes.

Den howled, clasping his face, hunching over.

Shadow wiped his lip, staring at Carver, who tugged at Zana’s ties. She kicked him in the shin, and he slapped her across the face. Shadow’s veins were on fire. He lunged for Carver. His palms rammed into the dickhead, tossing him aside. But when a massive weight plowed into Shadow, he lurched sideways.

Catching his balance, Shadow hurled an elbow backward, striking Den. Free from his grubby hands, he rushed to Carver. Shadow drove his foot into his gut several times to make sure he stayed down.

“Fucker. You’ll pay for Klurt, for Sivath, and for touching Zana.”

Her scream broke above the masses, but her words were incomprehensible. A solid strike cracked at the side of Shadow’s head. The excruciating pain was instant. The world rotated beneath him and he crumpled, but not before he saw a huge rock drop from Den’s hand.

The crowds screamed, “Cheat!”

Shadow fell flat onto his stomach, agony shattering him. Everything cramped, and his head throbbed as if his skull lay cracked open.

Povian’s guards entered the arena, dragging Den away. “No weapons. You’re disqualified.”

When Shadow glanced up, he discovered Povian was at the front of the masses. The older goblin screamed the words, “Get up,” ushering more to follow his lead.

The repetitive chant from the audience fell in rhythm with his heartbeat—louder, faster. Zana was joining in, her eyes pleading with him to move.

The flickering torches distorted her gorgeous face. He remembered how well she fit into his arms. How her breath tickled his skin. How incredible her kisses felt. But, more than anything, he adored her passion to never give up against adversity. She wasn’t a true-blood, yet she kept trying to make a life in Pryvale.

Shadow staggered upright, and everything in sight was duplicated.

Carver stood across from him.

Shadow threw a punch, but his body spun on the spot as he completely missed. His head thumped. Warm blood trickled down his face.

Carver vanished behind him. Shadow’s body responded too slowly to follow the bastard.

An arm snapped across Shadow’s throat, holding him up in a tight grapple.

Hot air washed across Shadow’s ear.

Carver whispered, “When Den sliced Klurt’s neck, apparently, he cried like a baby. I had told the old rat to give me the Wart Markets and I’d share the profits. Saying ‘no’ to me gets you killed, just like Sivath. Bastard wanted to buy the markets for some community crap. The joke part is that he was going to get you to convince Klurt to sell by convincing him to retire. Bullshit. No begging. We’re goblins, and we take what we want. Including Zana. She’s mine.”

A newfound energy cascaded through Shadow as he imagined his uncle panicked, terrified, before dying. Gasping for air, he stomped his heel down on Carver’s foot and ground it into the ground. He pitched his head back and bashed it into Carver’s nose. The grip around Shadow’s neck loosened, and he reeled free.

He couldn’t catch his breath, let alone find his voice. His fists would speak for him. He slugged Carver under the chin. Shadow teetered. But Carver returned and rushed him, both of them colliding together. Then something sharp, like a needle, jabbed Shadow just below the ribs—deep and stiff.

Shadow growled and pushed Carver away.

The asshole laughed as he stuffed something small into his pocket.

And within seconds, Shadow’s hands and feet prickled. Were his lips getting numb? Severe burning rose from his abdomen to his throat.

“What did you do to me?” Swallowing grew uncomfortable. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange sensations. His mouth opened; nothing came out. His body swayed. Except he wasn’t going down.

Shadow rubbed his eyes. He watched Carver retreat farther away, slipping out between two poles, and leaving the arena.

Sivath lay dead. Klurt had been murdered in cold blood. Those memories sat on Shadow’s mind like a scab that refused to heal. He couldn’t wait another moment or give Carver time to escape and vanish.

Shadow was running on wobbly legs before his brain could catch up.

He slipped out of the circle and dove into the crowds, shoving them aside. Voices fell in the distance behind him. None of that mattered. Just capturing Carver. Up ahead, Carver tore into the forest.

Shadow snarled. He clutched the aching wound at his side. He wouldn’t let Carver escape. Shadow ran through the woods. His vision blurred, and he kept stumbling sideways. What the hell had Carver done to him?

The bastard was slowing down like he knew Shadow would fall soon. What he didn’t realize was that Shadow had run in a hailstorm for hours back in his army training. A bit of dizziness wouldn’t stop him. He pushed forward, sprinting. Fire scorched his veins.

Carver glanced over his shoulder, meeting Shadow’s gaze. The terror in his eyes was real. And he better be fucking afraid.

Shadow was feet away from Carver.

Rage burned through Shadow. He kept picturing Klurt and Sivath dead. Two lives destroyed for no reason other than a greedy fuckwit wanting to steal what didn’t belong to him.

Within arms reach, Shadow kicked his foot out, tripping Carver. He yelped and flew forward, hitting the ground.

Shadow halted, hands on his knees, taking deep inhales, but it felt as if he couldn’t breathe deep enough to fill his lungs. For a moment, the woods were spinning around him, and he stumbled into a tree. He shook himself. Pull yourself together.

Without hesitation, Shadow marched up to Carver and kicked him in the ribs. The weasel curled in on himself, whimpering like a dying animal.

Shadow leaned over, grabbed a fistful of shirt, and lifted the scumbag. Then introduced him to his fist. No stopping, Shadow slammed Carver’s face, his gut.

Carver wobbled on his feet, his arms out in a show of peace. “Please, no more.”

“You’ll pay for what you did.”

“Don’t kill me, I beg you,” Carver pleaded, the moonlight revealing blood smeared across his face, his shirt torn and stained with red.

Shadow could end this now. Eliminate the germ from goblin society once and for all. But for those few moments of silence, Shadow felt pity for Carver. Not because he groveled but that he would never understand how precious life and family were. How heart-wrenching it felt to lose someone special.

During his time in the kingdom, Shadow didn’t learn just how to be a fighter. But how to be an ambassador, behave how he’d want others to act. That would be the right decision.

Shadow gasped for air, his inhales wheezing. “What did you do to me?”

Carver sniggered and wiped his busted lip with the back of his hand. “You’re a moron. I poisoned you and you’re dying. You probably have a few minutes left. Thank fuck.”

That earlier fire rekindled in Shadows chest. Screw being an ambassador. He was sticking to his original plan and ripping Carver in half.

Shadow cracked his neck and curled his fists. “You said the wrong thing.” He stepped closer.

Carver’s face paled. He whirled on the spot and darted away so fast into the night, Shadow had barely taken a step forward.

But Carver’s scream ended as abruptly as it started.

Shadow’s sight blurred. He rubbed his eyes and staggered forward, swearing his body felt stiffer. Several feet forward, he found Carver impaled into a broken branch that had recently been snapped in half.

“Fucking hell!” Either it was the worst freak accident, or the universe was paying it forward.

His body slumped over to the side, gurgling, crying for help.

Shadow rushed forward, but his legs gave out and he crashed face first into the ground. His vision faded. He rolled onto his side, panic clawing at his chest. This couldn’t be how he died. Not without seeing Zana one last time. Not without making up for staying away from Klurt for so long.

Blackness closed in around his mind, and his world fell away.