He didn't have any good reason for wanting to fight Grand.
The thought clawed at him like a splinter beneath skin. He had won, hadn't he? Beaten Daimon, Geezer, Elliot, Phoenix, and Swine. Completed all the stages. The rules were clear—he could ask for anything now. Henrik's safe passage. Bree and Han's protection. Maybe even the freedom of every non-combatant rotting in this hellscape, since Grand had no use for them anymore.
Hell, he could forget about everyone else and be selfish for once. His own freedom. Money, protection, guarantees. Information about Casey, Ryoji, Leon, and Melissa—people who might still be alive somewhere in this fractured world.
So why was every fiber of his being screaming to pick a fight with the Duke of this godforsaken arena?
Maybe it was because after all the blood spilled tonight, Grand still hadn't moved. Not a twitch, not a shift, like a statue carved from indifference while people died for his entertainment.
