Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 164

Chapter 164: Chapter 164

Elara’s POV

"They always do."

The smugness in his voice made my stomach clench. I swallowed the taste of bile and kept my tone flat.

"I have questions first."

"Of course you do." I could hear the smile in his words. A chair creaked on his end. He was settling in. Getting comfortable. "Ask away, sweetheart."

"Don’t call me that." The words came out sharper than I intended. I didn’t correct them. "How dangerous is it? The fighting. I want the truth."

A pause. When he spoke again, the playfulness had dimmed—just slightly. Like someone turning down a lamp.

"Broken bones happen. Concussions. Dislocated shoulders. Torn ligaments. Cracked ribs. Occasionally someone loses a tooth." He listed injuries the way a baker might list ingredients. Matter-of-fact. Routine. "But we’re not animals, Ela. There are rules. Three rounds. Timed. A referee who calls the fight if someone can’t defend themselves. We keep a physician on site—a real one, not some back-alley herbalist. And every fighter gets basic medical coverage through the house."

"Medical coverage."

"Potions, bandages, bone-setting. Covered. Comes out of the house’s cut, not yours."

I pressed the communication stone harder against my palm. "And the pay?"

"Depends on the fight. But the minimum purse for showing up and bleeding? Three thousand gold. Win? Five thousand. Climb the ranks, draw a crowd, and those numbers go up. Significantly."

Three thousand. Just for showing up. That was more than months of my usual wages.

"I want to see it," I said. "Before I agree to anything."

"Smart girl." The smile was back. "Tomorrow night at nine. Come to the industrial district—the old warehouse row past the canal bridge. Look for a blue door. My man Tommy will be outside. Give him your name and tell him you’re my guest."

I almost corrected him again. Almost said don’t call me girl. But I was too tired. The words dissolved before they reached my tongue.

"Fine."

"See you tomorrow, Ela."

The stone went dead. I set it down on the mattress and stared at the wall.

---

The message arrived just past dawn.

I was at a dispatch station in the slums, picking up a delivery notice I’d been expecting from the dry goods vendor. The clerk behind the counter—a thin man with ink-stained fingers—held up a sealed parchment along with my receipt.

"This came through the landlord’s registered imprint. Flagged urgent."

I took it. Broke the seal.

The handwriting was precise. Impersonal.

Eleven hours until eviction. I hope you’re already packed. — Mr. Petersen.

Eleven hours.

I read the words twice. Then I folded the parchment carefully along its creases, tucked it into my coat pocket, and walked out of the station without looking back.

The morning air was damp and cold. It smelled like rust and canal water and rotting wood. People moved past me in both directions—workers heading to the factories, women carrying baskets of bread, children darting between legs like small brown birds. None of them looked at me. None of them knew that in eleven hours, I would have no door to close behind me.

I walked.

The hours passed in a gray blur. I returned to the apartment once to gather my things. There wasn’t much. A change of clothes. My personal stone. A pouch with a few remaining gold coins. The card, tucked into my inner pocket like a talisman.

I left the key on the counter. Didn’t look back at the room.

---

The industrial district smelled different from the rest of the city. Heavier. Iron and smoke and something chemical that burned the back of my throat.

The canal bridge was slippery with moss. Beyond it, the warehouse row stretched into shadow—long, squat buildings with rusted metal doors and narrow windows set too high to see through. Most of them were dark. A few leaked thin strips of amber light from beneath their doors.

The blue door was impossible to miss.

It was painted the color of a winter sky—deep, vivid, almost luminous against the grime of the surrounding brick. A single enchantment lamp hung above it, casting a pale circle of light onto the wet cobblestones below.

And beneath that light stood the largest man I had ever seen.

He was a wall of flesh and muscle. Arms like tree trunks, crossed over a barrel chest. His head was shaved clean, and a jagged scar ran from his left ear to the corner of his jaw. His eyes tracked me the moment I stepped into the light.

I stopped. My heart was hammering against my ribs. Every instinct told me to turn around.

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