The Pit's roar hit me before I saw it: cheers, jeers, the thud of bodies on concrete. I stepped into the arena, Serafino pendant tight against my chest. The neon haze tasted of sweat and blood. My opponent—Viktor "The Hammer" Dossi—towered over me, muscles coiled like steel cables. He cracked his knuckles and sneered.
I didn't flinch. I'd faced heavier hitters. But tonight, I wasn't here for Viktor. I was here for the ring's true master: Mateo Serafino.
Mateo stood on a raised platform at the far end, illuminated by a single spotlight. His posture was rigid, arms folded inside a tailored black suit that swallowed the light. Silver hair fell across his forehead, and his eyes were ice—pale, unreadable.
I swallowed. Underneath his cold gaze, the entire family watched: Valentina perched beside him, her lips a thin line; a dozen enforcers in crisp jackets; and higher up, faded portraits of Serafino dons, all of them cold and silent.
Gio pressed close, voice low. "Play your part. Win clean. Don't give him cause to doubt."
I nodded once. "Understood."
I turned back to Viktor. The bell rang.
He charged like a battering ram. I sidestepped, punched his ribs. He grunted and swung a haymaker. I ducked, aimed for his knee. He stumbled. The crowd roared. Good. Noise hides mistakes.
I backed up and baited him—jab, feint, step in. He lunged. I caught his wrist, twisted. He yelped and I landed a series of tight uppercuts. Viktor collapsed. The ref jumped in. I let my arms fall. The Pit went silent—everyone waiting for Mateo's nod.
He studied me, arms still folded. No expression. My heart pounded. This was the moment they'd decide my fate.
Mateo's hand lifted, slowly—once, twice. A gesture like lifting a veil. He closed his fist. The crowd erupted. Gio exhaled next to me. "He approved."
I nodded, barely daring to breathe. Viktor staggered to his feet, rage in his eyes, but the ref waved him down. Viktor glared at me, spit on the floor, then stalked off.
I turned to leave. But Valentina's enforcer blocked my path. He handed me a glass of water and a crisp white towel. The scent of expensive cologne followed him. I pressed the towel to my brow. Salt stung my eyes.
"Good fight," a voice said behind me.
I turned. Mateo stood six feet away, the spotlight haloing him. His gaze held mine, cold yet curious.
"Thank you," I managed. My voice felt small.
He lifted an eyebrow. "You fight like you're protecting someone."
I met his eyes, unwilling to back down. "I am."
He nodded, as if that explained everything. He glanced at the pendant swinging around my neck. "You belong to Serafino now."
I sucked in a breath. "I have a deal."
He took a step closer. His presence was a thawing glacier—beautiful, but deadly. "Deals can change."
His words skimmed my skin like ice water. I wrapped my fingers tighter around the towel. "Then let's not make any mistakes."
He studied my face. Silence stretched. I searched for a flicker in his expression—amusement, disdain, warmth. Nothing.
Finally he spoke, voice low. "I'm Mateo Serafino." He extended a pale hand.
I hesitated. Then placed mine in his. His fingers were cool as metal. "Ivy Rossi."
His grip was firm. I felt a spark—tiny, but there. He released my hand and stepped back, like a commander dismissing a soldier.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you spar with my champion. If you win again, I'll consider… additional tasks."
I forced a nod. "I'll be ready."
He turned and walked away, cloak of calm swirling behind him. The crowd parted like water. I watched his back until he vanished up the stairs.
Gio found me, eyes wide. "You okay?"
I inhaled deep, the roar of the Pit rushing back. "You saw that?"
He grinned. "He's testing you. And he wants you to pass."
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the Serafino pendant. Warm. Alive.
Above, the chandeliers rattled. Somewhere, machinery hummed beneath the arena. I realized I hadn't seen any exits. The walls were solid—no cracks, no windows. This place was built to hold you.
I looked at Viktor, being led away by medics. He spat blood and glared. I felt the sting of his eyes on my back. But Viktor was nothing compared to the ice heir.
Later, in the Serafino mess hall, I sat at a long table with other fighters. Food smelled fancy—roast meat, fresh bread—but I picked at a stale roll. Across from me, a burly man with a scar on his cheek said, "You're the new queen."
I glanced at him. "The Pit's full of queens."
He chuckled. "Mateo calls the shots. You catch his eye, you either rise… or disappear."
I tore the bread. "And what happens if he decides I'm a threat?"
The scarred man's grin faded. "You don't want to find out."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "I'm not here to be threatened."
He studied me, then shrugged and turned away. I felt every eye in the room on me—some curious, some hungry, most wary.
Above us, a balcony opened onto a glass-walled office. I caught movement—a silhouette at the pane. My breath hitched. I pressed my palm flat against the table.
"Focus," Gio whispered. "It's all part of the game."
I nodded, but my head spun. The warmth of the hall, the stale bread, the watching eyes—it all felt like a trap. Mateo's calm was the net drawing around me.
Back in my cramped quarters, I unpacked my gloves and wraps. The pendant lay on the nightstand, catching the lamp's glow. The room was quiet—no rain, no echoes. Just me.
I sat on the edge of the cot, diary tucked under my pillow. Lena's fate weighed on my mind, but I felt something else too: curiosity. Who was this man who watched me like he owned every moment? What game was he playing?
Tomorrow night, I would face his champion. Win again, and he'd offer more tasks. Fail, and Lena would die. The stakes sharpened like a blade.
I slipped the wraps onto my hands, feeling their rough fibers. I taped my knuckles. Then I stared at my reflection in the small mirror: bruised lips, a fresh swell on my brow, green eyes hardened with resolve.
The Pit waited. The heir watched. And I—Neon Queen—would fight for everything I loved.
I rolled onto the cot and closed my eyes. The pendant's weight pressed into my heart. In the darkness, Mateo's icy gaze followed me. And I wondered which one of us would break first.