Page 70 of Filthy Royal

Damien smirked.

The Golden Dome’s cage fights were an acquired taste. Hundreds of thousands of frenzied Alphas on their feet, sanctioned scent mufflers off, screaming and cursing at the fighters in the ring, calling for blood, while others in the crowd clobbered each other for sport, and many others worked off their aggression by bending a working omega whore over a seat to rut even as they kept their gazes locked on the ring and their favorite fighter. It didn’t even matter that it was evening-time. It was like this all the time in the coliseum.

Pure madness.

An atmosphere he’d loved…

Until his friend Crex died, everything went to shit, and he lost his taste for tournaments, and everything associated with the Golden Dome.

Now he kicked ass on his own terms, preferably without an audience.

“This place is fucking insane.” Maddox stared around wide-eyed, too enthralled to maintain his usualI’m too coolattitude.

Damien grunted in response. “Insane and loud. Which is exactly why my plan’s a good one.”

Probably.

Strategizing wasn’t exactly his forte. Breaking things was more his skill set.

“I was just saying,” Maddox yelled to be heard over a wave of ear-splitting shrieks, “you’ve seemed a little…offsince we arrived.”

“Off?” Damien’s gaze snapped back to the kid. “I’m fine.”

Two omega whores who weren’t yet on their backs hissed and scurried out of his way.

Par for the fucking course.

He could not have cared less.

Because he was fine.Totally fine.

The past was the past. He was very clear on his mission—track down his half brother Darvish Sartin and find out what he’d done with their missing sister, Zaya.

Oh, and side benefit: put the previous mistake he’d made in the Golden Dome behind him and prove to his brothers without a doubt that he could be relied upon to do more than follow orders, smash heads, and fuck up.

He was no longer a stupid kid.

He’d grown up.

At twenty-two-planetary-rotations-old, he was in his prime: bigger, stronger, faster than ever. He’d learned discipline and patience. Plus, he’d made a name for himself and now had power, money, and a much bigger… attitude.

Though, yeah, his cock was thicker and longer too.

Point was, he had his shit locked down tight and was totally fine with being back in the dome. Focused. Determined. Eyes on the fucking prize.

Prize.Fuck!

“Yeah, you definitely seem fine.” Maddox’s gaze settled on Damien’s claws.

Claws that were now mere inches from the nape of the cheering spectator stupid enough to have blocked his line of sight to the luxury box above.

“I am one hundred percent issue-free.” Damien willed his claws to retract and stepped around the oblivious viewer.

“Uh-huh.” The flashing lights from the cage bars sifted across Maddox’s scowling face and highlighted the burn patches on his neck and forearms.

A reminder.

The kid had suffered over a decade of abuse thanks to their half brother, Darvish, who’d abducted Maddox as a baby, then planted him with another family, allowing him to be raised by a sadist.

---