Page 106 of Warlord's Plaything

I barely feel it.

Then a boot slams into my stomach, and I grunt, spitting blood onto the pristine floor.

They keep going.

I don’t break.

Not for them. Never for them.

A hand grips my hair, forcing my head up.

Kaelith crouches before me, his expression unreadable.

"Last chance, Xyron."

"Fuck you."

His lips twitch.

"Wrong answer. Tomorrow, you die in the arena."

The words sink in.

Not today.

Not a quick, clean kill.

They want spectacle.

They want me to die in the sands where I made my name.

Where I built my empire of blood and steel.

They want to make a statement.

They want to tear me down, piece by piece, in front of my own people.

The final insult.

The final fucking nail in the coffin.

Kaelith pats my cheek, voice mockingly soft.

"I wonder if she’ll come to watch."

My body goes still.

"What was her name again?"He raises his chin, pretending to think."Hira, wasn’t it?"

I don’t react.

I stay still.

But he sees it.

The flicker. The hesitation.

He leans in.

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