Page 7 of Filthy Royal

One-to-one fighting matches occurred in the first four rotations, with opponents assigned at random and the loser of each fight eliminated from the tournament. Those who tapped out during this stage lost their pride and the chance of winning any prize, but kept their lives.

By the end of the fourth rotations, only a hundred fighters would remain to take part in the premier cage-fighting event.

The fifth rotation of the tournament, called the Elite 100, was different.

Unlike the earlier rounds, the main event took place in a separate coliseum with enough seating for hundreds of thousands of ticket buyers and vid access for those willing to pay top universal chits to have the action beamed into their homes across the galaxy. Nicknamed “The Cage,” the stadium contained a pit in the center with laser bars on the sides and ceiling.

The Elite 100 was a free-for-all brawl with no rules and no boundaries, where all combatants fought at once, whittling down their numbers however they could until only one Alpha remained standing.

Those who made it to the final sixteen fighters won a little money. The final eight a pittance more. But only the fighter brave and skilled enough to be the last combatant conscious in the ring would win her, fame, and enough money to make him as rich as a planetary king.

Crash.

The sound of a body striking the mats jerked Scarlett from her thoughts.

Damien’s opponent lay on the ground, trapped in a figure-four leg choke. One of his four palms slapped the mat in submission. Damien had won.

Relief thudded through her.

The fury she felt inside him pulsed as hot as ever, but it hadn’t weakened him. His focus was unwavering.

All the other fighters were still grappling to win their match, including Stormhart and Verish.

Her gaze darted to her brother, who stood tense, watching the favored Kadon Stormhart fight. Luc’s hands fisted at his sides, his arms twitching ever so slightly, as if he wanted to be out there himself.

But the Consortium refused to allow her brother to participate in the bigger tournaments.

Egan said it was because they needed his help with training, but they all knew the truth: the Consortium had no intention of letting such a valuable commodity win enough prize money to bribe or buy his way to freedom.

Despite his tremendous strength, skills as a trainer, and recent promotion, Luc was still a pawn and a puppet like all Consortium-owned commodities. Just like her.

“Next.” Egan’s command had another opponent hustling onto the mat.

Damien resumed his fighting stance in one fluid motion—and took down that male in the blink of an eye.

He really was going to win it all.

Pride rushed through her. Hope too—until her gaze darted to Egan Avitus and she noticed him staring up at her, a calculating smirk on his face.

Her stomach clenched.

She’d seen that same look on his face the rotation she met Damien.

3

SCARLETT

Five rotations before the start of the tournament. . .

“Take your look, then move on.” Nars, the head of her security team, shouted into the voice amplifier as he strutted down the line of bodies in front of the training stadium entrance, the golden lights from the dome and the arena’s shining tinsel facade turning his green skin and matching tusks an even more putrid color. “Want more time with the prize? Win the tournament.”

Scarlett kept her head down, her arms stretched overhead, her hips undulating as colors flickered across her body and onto the crystal barricade of her display case, each hulking form that trudged past to stare at her little more than a blur.

The start of the tournament was nerve-wracking—and she suspected it would only get more intense with each passing rotation.

Visitors always crowded the streets beneath the Golden Dome, known galaxy-wide as the city that never went dark, taking advantage of the casinos, fighting arenas, and pleasure houses open all rotation long. But the Consortium-sponsored United Galactic Fighting Association’s tournament was the greatest draw of all, bringing in hundreds of thousands of extra tourists and more fighters than usual.

It felt as if they’d all come to gawk at her at once.

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