Page 66 of Filthy Royal

He launched himself at the other fighter, a rush of adrenaline providing a spurt of lucidity and control, enabling him to sink his claws into the bastard’s throat and tear out his voice box—and his ability to breathe.

Crex’s killer dropped to the ground, his face twisted in agony.

Another fighter down. But too late for his friend.

He’d fucking failed Crex.

Damien stumbled again and tried to think past his grief.

The Kuril Alpha had killed Crex at Verish’s request, but how the hells did that relate to what was wrong with him?

Drugged.

The realization struck as Stormhart’s fist slammed into him—bringing a flash of clarity.

Someone had drugged him.

But who? He’d been so fucking careful, only taking food and drink from…

His head snapped up, his gaze landing on the locked storage space. The water container. A container no one had touched but him… and Scarlett.

Disbelief hit.

He whirled back around, his gaze locking with hers.

Her despair and guilt were easy to see. Even easier to feel through their bond.

It was Scarlett. She’d done it.

She wasn’t even pretending now. Darkness swirled within her, stretching toward him through their invisible bond, all her beautiful colors gone.

All his hopes for their future too.

But why?

Rage and pain explode inside him.

I know you can win.

Her earlier words to him.Can.Notwill.

She’d known all along—but she’d sent him into the ring anyway, and now Crex was dead, and Stormhart was the only other fighter remaining.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stormhart charge.

He didn’t have time to give a fuck.

Damien stumbled toward her. “Why?”

Despite the laser bars between them, she lurched backward, straight into the body of the male at her side.

Her eyes overflowed with tears.

His eyes filled too.

Crack.

It was almost a relief when Stormhart’s punch landed, and the darkness took him.

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