“I’m so glad to have the shampoo Audra sent with us!” Kaya calls from the bathroom, and I smile. I’m also happy to have it. Not for myself, but because the light floral scent smells amazing on her.

I turn toward the bathroom to tell her that, and something shuffles against the concrete at my back. I spin, already raising my fists, but I only get a glimpse of the large man behind me before something hits me in the side of my head.

Agony explodes in my skull. The world tilts on its side as I fall, and dimly I’m aware of slamming into the ground. Pain shoots through my shoulder, but I only feel it briefly because the light is already fading. And just before I pass out, a man squats in front of me, holding a rusted length of rebar. He’s speaking, but his words sound slurred and…fuzzy. And oddly stretched.

“If you want her back, you’ll have to fight for her. Come find us in the city.”

Then the world goes dark.

*

“No!” Kaya shouts. “Marcus, no!” I hear the soft crack of a hand slapping flesh, and for a second everything is quiet. Then Kaya sobs.

“If you don’t come peacefully, I’ll beat you unconscious and carry you.” It’s that same man’s voice. “Then, when you wake up, you can try to guess what I did while you were out based on where you’re sore…”

“Kaya!” I shout. Only the sound that leaks from my throat is hardly a sound at all. I try to sit up, but my arms won’t cooperate. My vision won’t come into focus. I’ve had enough concussions to recognize the symptoms.

This is a bad one.

“He’s awake,” Eric says. That fucking bastard. I’ll kill him—just as soon as I can stand up.

“Sebastian!” Kaya shouts, and dimly I’m aware that this isn’t the first time she’s called my name. “Are you okay? What the hell did you hit him with?” she demands.

That man—Marcus—kneels in front of me again, but his face is blurry. So is Kaya’s but she’s obviously been crying.

“Don toch’er,” I slur. “Nah whan feenger.” My tongue feels heavy. My words are broken.

“He’s hurt!” Kaya shouts.

“He’ll be fine,” the man says. “Gladiators know how to take a beating.” Then he grabs my chin, and I’m terrified to realize I don’t have the strength to jerk free. “You want her back, come fight for her. But you better hurry, because this is winner takes all. And we haven’t had a woman in the city in weeks.”

Then he grabs Kaya by the arm and hauls her out the door.

“Sorry,” Eric says from the doorway. “But they gave me no choice. A man’s gotta eat.”

“…kill you…” I slur, frustrated to realize that only the middle portion of my threat made it into actual words. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. Then I push myself to my feet.

The world spins again, and I reach for the wall to steady myself.

Kaya’s screaming. Marcus hits her.

I take a step. Then the ground rushes up to meet me.

*

When I come to, the sun is down. Kaya is gone, and the door is standing wide open. The building is freezing.

The right side of my skull feels like someone took a baseball bat to it, which is very nearly true. But I can see again.

Pulse rushing, I carefully sit upright, then I give it a beat. Waiting to see if I’m going to pass out again. When the world remains steady, I push myself onto my knees, one hand braced against the wall, just in case.

After that, I slowly rise to my feet. I’m a little lightheaded, but I’m not going to fall or pass out again. So I snatch my bag from the floor and dig for the painkillers, but they’re not here. That asshole took them. Yet he didn’t take our water or the mat, or anything else that I can tell.

Maybe the pills are in the bathroom.

I rush down the short hallway, one hand out in case I need the wall for support again, and I find Kaya’s bag lying on the counter next to the sink. A bottle of water has rolled out of it and onto the floor, and her last granola bar lies in the basin, half covered by the flap of her pack. I snatch it and dig inside, and I’m relieved to find all three bottles of pills.

The first is water purification tablets, the second is our remaining bottle of one-dose antibiotics. And the third holds what’s left of the painkillers the doctor at the arena gave me.

I grab the water from the floor and swallow three pills from the third bottle. And, just to be sure, I take an antibiotic. Then I lurch into motion, trying to ignore the agony in my head and the brutal, shooting ache in my right shoulder. Evidently, I landed on it when I passed out the first time.

I shove all of our things back into our bags, both relieved that Eric and that other bastard didn’t take anything and frustrated that they evidently didn’t let Kaya keep any of her things.

I have no idea who this Marcus bastard is, but I know where he took Kaya and what he’s planning to do with her. What I don’t know is whether he’s going to use her for himself before he offers her up as a prize.

She’s been through enough. She doesn’t deserve this.

And I brought her here.

I head east, hiking in the dark, and I have to remind myself to take a sip of water every now and then. After a few hours, I make myself eat. I hope they’re giving Kaya food and water.

For the first few hours, I can’t concentrate on anything but where my next step takes me. My thoughts feel unfocused—that’s probably the concussion—and I’m running on fear and fury. I have to get Kaya back. I have to get her before they hurt her.

But after a while, my head begins to clear. The painkillers kick in. And I realize I’ve made a mistake.

I should have gone for help. I should have raced back to the Sorority and begged Tyson and Callum to come with me. I have no idea how many men I’ll have to fight for Kaya, but it’ll be more than I can take on by myself, with a concussion.

But it’s much too late for that now. I have no idea how long I’ve been walking, but according to Eric, ‘the city’ is only half a day southeast from the building we were in, but Tyson’s community is at least two days in the other direction.

Which means I’m almost to ‘the city.’

Surely I’m almost there.

Encouraged, I dig a granola bar from my pack—the last of my food—and press on as fast as I can.

Just as dawn breaks, I see a cluster of buildings on the horizon. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but they seem to be metal, modular construction built on concrete foundations, just like most of the other buildings on Rhodon, except for the bullpen. And, presumably, the Resort.

As I get closer, I can see that though it’s early, there are already people up and about. And they’re all men. Large men. It’s a city—though really a town, at best—of arena champions. Murderous death row inmates, each presumably eager to prove that he is stronger and more violent than the next.

I have to get Kaya out of here.

I march into town on the cracked and crumbling street as if I own it, because I know these men, even if I’ve never met any of them. I spent months with men just like them in the bullpen.

There are four buildings, two on either side of what’s left of the road. The men standing in front of them seem to have nowhere to go and nothing to do. And while I’m too far away to pick up any specifics from their conversations, there’s an air of anticipation in the tone.

I head for the first man I see standing alone. He has dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. “I’m looking for Marcus.”

The man snorts. “Everyone’s looking for Marcus. But you’re not going to get near his bitch until the tournament.” Then he frowns. “The fuck are you?” he demands, having evidently just realized I’m new in town.

“That’s Havoc!” Someone shouts from across the street, and I turn to see that a small crowd is gathering.

“Where. The fuck. Is Marcus?” I repeat.

“Got your woman, doesn’t he?” the man with the ponytail says. “Kaya’s yours?” He laughs when I don’t answer. Then he shrugs. “Not anymore. Not unless you win her back.”

“Starts when the sun’s at its highest point,” one of the other men says. Which is roughly noon, in a land where there are no com devices with which to keep track of the time. “But you gotta register and pay the entry fee.”

“Where?” I demand, of anyone who’ll answer. “Is Marcus running this thing?”

“He is today,” a bald man answers. He looks vaguely familiar. I only saw a few of the prison fights before I got to Rhodon, but I think his might have been one of them. “Over there.” He points to the second building across the street. “First floor. You can’t miss it.”

I leave them staring after me, and I can hear my name echoing after me. Not my real name. Havoc. My gladiator name. Someone in the group is new enough to Rhodon to have seen me fight on the feeds. Which means my chances of anonymity are nil.

I cross the street and a patch of reddish grass trampled by dozens of feet to shove open the front door of the second building. “Marcus!” A door slides open halfway down the hall and a man appears in the doorway. I don’t recognize him.

“Where the fuck is Marcus?” I demand. He points toward the first door on the left. I slide it open to find Marcus—the motherfucker who blindsided me with a piece of rebar—standing in the middle of a mostly empty room. Clearly waiting for me. Behind him, Kaya is on the floor in nothing but her bra and panties, with her legs folded beneath her, sitting on her bare heels.

Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she makes a desperate sound. But she can’t form words, because her mouth is tightly gagged with…some kind of grimy fabric. Her hands appear to be bound at her back.

Fury blazes through me like fire in my veins. “You sick motherfucker.” I stomp across the room, one fist already pulled back and aiming for Marcus’s face, but two other large men step in front of him. And finally, I realize that there are two more men standing against the walls on either side of the room. Just waiting. He knew I would come for her, obviously. And he’s ready for me.

“Havoc.” Marcus crosses his arms over his chest. “I assume you’re here to sign up for the tournament?”

I ignore him and turn to Kaya, though I can’t get to her without going through all four of Marcus’s…friends. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

“Haven’t needed to,” Marcus says. “She does exactly as she’s told. She’s a perfect lady. And naturally submissive.”

No, she’s been abused, and she knows how to survive. But she wasn’t supposed to have to do that anymore—give in, in order to make it through. I was supposed to protect her.

“I’m going to rip your head right off your fucking body,” I growl at him, and when one of his friends snickers, I realize they’re not here out of loyalty to him. They’re here to keep me from taking Kaya. To safeguard their prize.

“Let her go,” I demand, though I know that’s not going to happen.

“You’ll get a chance to win her back,” Marcus says. “The tournament starts in a couple of hours. We held a spot for you.” He takes three steps toward the wall, then taps a blank line on the first tier of a bracket drawn directly on the metal surface in what looks like black chalk. Must be charcoal. “Do you have the entry fee?”

“How does this work?” There are sixteen names on the bracket. I have to win three fights to get to the championship. “Is this to the death?”

“Only the final round,” he says. “That should be a familiar format for you. The preliminary bouts are fought until KO or submission. Though if you can’t get either of those, you’re welcome to kill your opponent.”

“Weapons?”

“None,” the man to Marcus’s left says. He has blond hair tied back with a strip of cloth that looks suspiciously similar to the one gagging Kaya. “Bare fists only.”

“One-on-one?”

Marcus nods. “It’s as fair a fight as you’re going to get.”

“And what do you get out of it?” I ask. “If Kaya goes to the winner?”

He shrugs. “The guys and I split the entry fees. Speaking of which, how will you be paying?”

“What do you accept?” I swing both the packs off my shoulder, mentally inventorying the contents.

“Food. Clothing, if it’s in good shape,” Marcus says.

“And blowjobs,” the blond adds. “But we all get an equal cut, so I hope you have a strong jaw.”

“Fuck off.” I glance at Kaya, wishing for some sign that they haven’t touched her. But there are tears on her cheeks and terror in her eyes. And the only good sign I can see is that her bra and underwear are still intact—except for the ripped side I tied back together several days ago. “Let me talk to her. Let me make sure she’s okay, then I’ll enter your damn tournament.”

“Why?” Marcus demands. “She’s the fucking enemy, and she deserves whatever she gets.”

“Just let me talk to her,” I snap.

Finally, Marcus nods, and his men step out of my way.

“Could we get a little privacy?” I ask as I kneel next to Kaya.

“Hell no.” Marcus sits on the arm of the only chair in the room, looking straight at us.

“Hey,” I whisper, brushing hair back from Kaya’s forehead. She looks up at me, and the distraught whine leaking from her throat breaks my heart. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m going to get you out of here, even if I have to kill every one of these bastards.”

“That would be a hell of a show,” Marcus says. “Everyone’s excited to see you work. We’ve never had a professional fighter. You’re something of a celebrity around here. As is she.”

“Are you okay?” I pull the gag from her mouth and let it fall around her throat like a necklace. A dirty, smelly necklace.

That thing shouldn’t be anywhere near her mouth.

She stretches her jaw, then she licks her lips. “Let’s go. Can we go now Sebastian?” Her eyes are wide and uncomprehending, her pupils dilated. She’s in shock, and she hasn’t processed a single bit of my negotiation with Marcus.

I want to beat him until brains leak from his ears. I want to give her a bat and let her get the party started.

“Kaya, it’s not going to be quite that easy.”

Her left shoulder jerks, as if she’s trying to reach for me, but she forgot her hands are tied at her back. “Please. Let’s go.” She’s terrified and she’s counting on me. And the look in her eyes is like a knife right to my gut.

I glance around at the men. There’s no way I can get through them all by myself. “I’m gonna need a little more time. But I will get you out of here. Are you…” I don’t want to ask her this in front of them, but I need to know that she’s okay. “Has anyone…hurt you?”

She shakes her head, and tears spill down her cheeks. “They couldn’t decide who should get to go first, so they decided no one should.”

I glance at Marcus, my jaw grinding so hard that it creaks. He shrugs. “We decided she’d be worth more if she’s in good shape for the winner. But if he wants to loan her out…” Another shrug.

Kaya starts to tremble. “Get me out of here. Get me out, Sebastian. Please get me out of here.” Tears slip down her cheeks. Her terror twists a knife deep inside me.

“I’m going to get you out.” I lean closer to whisper into her ear, and I run my hand down her arm, trying to calm her. “I’m going to get you off this whole damn planet. But I need you to be strong until then, okay?”

“I can’t. I can’t. I—”

Marcus laughs. He and his men are feeding from her terror.

“Kaya.” I put one hand on her cheek, then I press my nose into her opposite ear and breathe out softly. Trying to get her attention through something…gentle. Something that isn’t a threat or a shock to her system. “I need you to trust me, baby,” I whisper. “This is all going to be okay. No one’s going to touch you, because I’m going to win. Okay? You took care of me in the arena, and now I’m going to take care of you. So just calm down and sit tight.”

Finally, she sniffs back her tears. Then she gives me a shaky nod. “I trust you.” There’s still terror swimming in her eyes, but she no longer sounds like she’s about to hyperventilate. “But please hurry.”

“Tournament starts in two hours,” Marcus says. “I suggest you rest up until then. How will you be paying the entrance fee?”

I stand, and it actually physically hurts me to have to leave Kaya tied up on the floor. One of Marcus’s men kneels next to her and reaches for the gag to replace it. She flinches away from him, but I shake my head at her. That material is nasty, but it’s better than anything else they might try to shove into her mouth. And finally, she lets him replace the gag.

I grab our packs from the floor and set them on a scarred, warped desk, the only piece of furniture in the room other than Marcus’s chair. “I have water.” I pull one of the bottles from the bag. “It’s clean. And an extra shirt. We’re out of food, but I have some—”

“Pills,” one of the other men says. “I hear them rattling around. Antibiotics or water-purification?” He shrugs before I can answer. “Doesn’t matter. Give us those.”

I don’t want to give up either of them, because Kaya and I might need them after the fight. We still haven’t found Sylvie, and there’s no telling how long that will take, if I get hurt today. But if that’s what it takes to get into the tournament… To win her freedom…

As I’m digging for the pills, determined not to accidentally show them the painkillers, I start pulling things from the bag. “What’s that?” Marcus snatches a wad of dark cloth I mistook for a towel. When he shakes it out, we both come to the same realization. “Her skirt. That’s her fucking pencil skirt, isn’t it? Do you have her shoes? These bastards would fight to their fucking deaths if we can parade her out there in a pair of fucking stilettos.”

“No, but I have her shirt.” I dig in the bag until I find her torn white blouse. “Will that work as an entry fee?”

“With this, it will.” The blond fucker picks up the bottle of soap Audra sent with us and flips open the lid. Then he takes a good whiff. “Where the hell did you get this?”

Kaya whines from behind her gag, wordlessly reminding me not to mention the Sorority. Which I already know.

What these monsters would do with thirty women is enough to give me nightmares.

“It’s from the greenroom.”

Marcus and his men nod. They all know exactly what I’m talking about, because they’re all former champions. Which means most of them probably remember Kaya wearing things like the pencil skirt and prim button-up blouse Marcus is now holding.

He sets the bottle of shampoo on the floor against one wall, where an odd assortment of other “entry fees” are already lined up. “Okay, you’re in. This is pretty informal, compared to the arena. No time limits. No rounds. We don’t have any fancy clothes, and obviously there’s no medical care. And as you’ve already heard, we don’t allow weapons. You KO or tap out, and you lose. Any questions?”

I shake my head. This is semi-organized street fighting. Or, more likely, dirt lot fighting.

And it’s the only way I’m going to get Kaya out of here in one piece.