The pit was my hell and saving grace.
In its dark depths, thick ropes lined the patted down square of dirt separating the wild crowd of screaming onlookers from the fight.
Hungry shouts echoed off the steel walls. Hunger for blood, pain and victory.
A sense of danger and urgency reigned in its gloom, engulfing any demon that dared enter it. It was nothing but a hole where filth and monsters united. Those who were neither, feared this place, they knew nothing good ever came out of Hell.
But to me, it had become home.
I lived in the darkness, let it consume me, day and night.
Over and over.
The shadows were where I thrived—and it had been that way most of my life.
Being the son of a Dux, my story had been no secret to the demons haunting the streets of New York and beyond.
I knew they often used it to warn their children, to show them what happened when sacred laws were broken, and punishments were thoroughly given by the hands of our king, Fallen.
Grow a heart, lose the heart.
I’d fallen in love years before when I was nothing but a young fool and for that, I’d paid the price of becoming heartless.
There was nothing more dangerous than a heartless beast.
The shouts vibrated through my muscles and bones as I circled my opponent. His blood coated my skin, dripping from my tight fists and pooling at my feet. The demon beast within me was thrashing and growling at the smell. Wanting more blood. More pain. More glory.
More.
More.
More.
The beast always craved more.
The other fighter was more or less similar to me in size, but nowhere near as good in the ring. A low-class incubus wanting to impress his friends.
Stupid fucking fool.
To anyone watching our fight, it was clear who the true predator was between the two of us. The second fighter was only trying to survive the predator’s wrath.
His eyes were trained on me, nostrils flaring, body locked in a defensive stance, anticipating my next move.
Or tried to.
Before his next blink, I lashed out, a vicious kick aimed straight for his sternum.
It collided with precision in an effortless move, the wind wheezing out of his lungs as he stumbled back, back, back, and into the hands of the eager crowd. The man’s lungs filled once more on a deep, broken inhale just as a low growl rumbled through my chest.
The man answered with a growl of his own and the crowd’s eager hands pushed him back up. He straightened, body shaking with boiling rage.
Good, I thought. Let the real fucking fight begin.
The Pit was the only place where low-class demons could feel powerful, where we could dominate and let our inner predators run loose.
Outside of these cracked cement walls, we had to abide by the laws of the greater power. Hell, I was the one making sure they were respected. But in here, we were free.
In our society, two things determine whether or not you were worth a damn; the type of demon you were born as, and the crimes you had committed in the past.
As for me, I was born in a high middle-class family of incubus. We were treated like royalty amongst our people, the Scorpios.
A family of Dux.
A family of born leaders.
And after the crimes I’d committed years ago; a family tinged with shame.
My hands curled into tighter fists as I observed the man in front of me—the blood and sweat mixing together as it slid down the side of his face.
With a brutal cry, he stormed forward, fist raised to strike—
I let him come closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Giving him a taste of hope. A taste of oncoming triumph.
And then I burnt it to ashes.
My right hand swung up, plowing into his stomach just before my left elbow collided with his nose.
He flew back once more, body twisting mid-air, and fell down face first, eating the fucking dirt right off the ground.
Silence.
People waited to see if he’d get back up.
When he didn’t, cheers erupted.
Some fighters like to scream victoriously, hitting their chest with fists.
I’d never been one of them.
I stayed silent as sweat, blood and dirt kept running down my skin. And waited, waited for the calm to wash over the storm thrashing within me.
When I felt it slow, I breathed out, cracking my neck to release the tension.
This, fighting, was the only thing that managed to appease it.
When I was in the ring, cheered on by the crowd as I let the beast in me play, I was in my zone. My element.
In those violent moments, the darkness surrounding me didn’t feel so pressuring anymore, so suffocating. It felt welcoming.
And so I kept coming back.
And I kept winning.
My younger brother Tensley may be Dux of Scorpios, king of New York.
But I… I was king of The Pit, king of the dark and king of the filth.
Exactly where I belonged.
In here, I was unstoppable.
Unreachable.
Unbeatable.
Like a god wrecking-havoc.
I didn’t bother staying to watch them drag my opponent’s unconscious body off the ground. Once they were down, I tuned out. They were only of interest to me while conscious, while they could still fight.
The longer I fought, the more it calmed me.
Simple as that.
I stepped over the ropes, ignoring the chants and calls as I moved up the stairs to the bar.
The crowd parted, each demon watching carefully, as if they were fearful I’d snap.
Good. People needed to be careful around me.
Sweat started to break along the back of my neck, fingers shaking slightly, and I knew what it meant; I needed a hit of belladonna. And I needed it fast.