Page 4 of Reign of Betrayal

What the hells.

That’s right, I remind myself. I’m in prison. I’m a murderer now. How could I forget I murdered someone?

I shoot up quickly. My back and every possible muscle in my body protests, screaming from the movement. Brushing the straw from my clothes, I shuffle to the cell door.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir? Oh, I like that,” the creepy guard croaks, flashing a closed-lipped, unsettling smile. “Time for the ring.”

“The ring?” I say with confusion not sure what he is referring to.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Learn to keep your mouth shut, do as you’re told, and you might survive. All newcomers go to the ring on their first day—compliments of the warden, Big Al,” the guard replies.

As we pass cell after cell, prisoners’ eyes follow me from behind their metal bars. Their whispers trail off into a haunting silence, the weight of their stares sinking into my bones. My legs tremble under the crushing uncertainty. Not knowing what awaits me fills me with dread. My heart pounds faster with every step, my breath shallow and ragged, trying to match the frantic rhythm of my pulse.

At the far end of the prison, we pass through locked doors and wind down more hallways until we reach a new room. The space is vast, yet suffocating, with rows of seats surrounding a roped-off stage in the center. Dim torches line the bare, dirty stone walls and the ring—scattering light across the stage, casting long, taunting shadows.

Most of the people in the seats wear the same ‘stylish’ gray tunic and pants I’ve been given—yup, definitely inmates. I spot a few guards among them, standing out in brown uniforms.

The guard escorting me leads me toward the stage and nudges me up the steps. My legs feel like jelly, each step making my muscles scream with apprehension. Uneven, panicked breaths escape me, like a dog panting in the summer heat back in the alleys of the Drifts.

At the center of the stage, a tall, lean inmate with short brown hair that comes to her chin and piercing golden eyes stands waiting. Her expression is unreadable, giving nothing away. I have no idea what’s about to happen, but I already know I’m not going to like it.

Big Al climbs the steps to the stage, his wide smile flashing toward the crowd.

“As you all know, we like to give the newcomers a huge welcome on their first night here.” He smiles widely, looking at all the inmates and guards in the chairs around us.

Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“7296, this is 6941.” He gestures between us.

I nod at her.

She nods back, her expression blank.

My gaze drops to the floor, and I notice dark brown stains all over the stage. Odd. Hells, is that… blood?

Big Al clasps his hands together. “6941, you know the drill. 7296, the fight ends when one of you gets knocked out.”

My eyes widen as my heart slams against my ribs.

My breath catches in my throat.

A fight? Fight!? The only fight I’ve ever been in was earlier—with the royal guards.

Big Al steps off the stage and strikes a gong. The deep vibration ripples through me, raising the hairs on my arms.

6941 immediately starts bouncing on her feet, two fists up and shielding her face. She clearly isn’t new at this.

She darts forward, her right fist flying toward my face. I try to move, but I’m too slow. Her fist slams into my nose, the sharp crunch of bone sending an explosion of pain through my head.

“Sorry,” she whispers so faintly I can’t tell if she actually said it—or if I’m already concussed.

She steps in closer. I try to throw a punch, but it’s more like the frantic swipe of a flailing cat. She dodges it with ease, then spins and catches me in the face with a kick.

That’s the last thing I remember.

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