A Narrow Escape
Pinned beneath Misery’s weight, Eryon felt his wolf clawing for release, the primal urge to defend himself threatening to overwhelm his carefully maintained control. Her sharp crimson gaze bore into him, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, he feared she could see the truth beneath the facade he had worked so hard to construct.
“Afraid you’ll lose?” she taunted, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for his ears.
Eryon forced a smirk, masking the turmoil within. “Not today.”
With a sharp twist of his body, he broke her hold, reversing their positions in one fluid motion. The crowd gasped as he flipped them, disarming her with precision and pressing his blade to her throat. His breathing remained steady, but inside, a storm raged. His wolf strained at its leash, but he couldn’t afford a single slip.
The arena erupted into cheers and jeers, the noise echoing like thunder. Eryon stood slowly, extending a hand to Misery. She hesitated for the briefest moment before accepting, her grip vice-like and brimming with suppressed frustration.
Misery’s trademark smirk returned, but there was a glint in her eyes now—something sharper, more dangerous. “Well played, darling,” she said smoothly. “But don’t think for a second this is over. I’ll be back.”
Eryon gave a small, nonchalant nod, masking his unease. He left the ring without looking back, his steps measured. As he entered the shadows near the arena’s exit, Lyra appeared from where she had been waiting, her face tight with concern despite the relief in her eyes.
“You’re cutting it too close,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the departing crowd. “She’s going to figure it out.”
Eryon exhaled sharply, his tone low but firm. “I didn’t have a choice. If I’d held back any more, I would’ve lost.”
Lyra’s gaze flicked upward to the stands. Among the dispersing spectators, Adrian remained seated, his piercing crimson eyes fixed on them with unnerving focus. His expression gave nothing away, but the weight of his scrutiny was suffocating.
“It’s not just Misery,” Lyra murmured, her voice trembling slightly. “Adrian’s watching too. He’s been watching for a while.”
Their moment of relief was shattered as Adrian rose and descended the stairs with deliberate steps, his approach filled with quiet menace. His gaze locked onto Eryon, and the intensity in his eyes made Lyra’s wolf stir uneasily beneath her skin.
“You’re not as clever as you think,” Adrian said, his tone cold enough to freeze the air between them. “But keep playing your game. I’ll figure out what you’re hiding.”
Eryon didn’t flinch. He met Adrian’s gaze head-on, his voice steady, his mask firmly in place. “Good luck with that.”
For a long moment, Adrian’s crimson eyes bore into him, searching for cracks. Then, without another word, Adrian turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the arena.
Lyra released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “This is getting worse,” she said quietly, her voice laced with fear.
Eryon nodded, his jaw tight. “We need to be more careful. Both of them are too close.”
The two exchanged a tense glance, the weight of their shared secret pressing heavier than ever. The walls seemed to close in around them, and for the first time, it felt like they were truly running out of room to hide.
