Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 190

Chapter 190: Chapter 190

Elara’s POV

The tape around my knuckles was already soaked through.

I peeled back the edge and rewrapped it, winding the strip tighter over my swollen left hand. The skin underneath was purple. My fingers wouldn’t close all the way. That was fine. I didn’t need a fist. I needed something closer to a club.

"You’re out of your mind."

Zane stood in the doorway of the cramped back room, blocking the exit like his body alone could stop me. His arms were crossed. His jaw was tight. He’d been standing there for a while.

I didn’t look up. "Move."

"No."

"Zane."

"Ela, listen to me." He stepped closer. "This is your fourth fight in five days. Fourth. Your ribs are broken. I can hear them clicking when you breathe."

He wasn’t wrong. Every inhale felt like someone was sliding a hot knife between the bones on my left side. My lip was badly split—one fresh cut, one reopened from the last bout. A bruise had swollen my right eye nearly shut, turning the world into a narrow slit of amber light and shadow. Blood had dried in a crust along my eyebrow where the skin had split open against someone’s elbow.

"I’ve fought hurt before," I said.

"Hurt is a bruise. Hurt is a pulled muscle. This is—" He ran both hands through his hair. "This is something else. You’re not fighting to win anymore. You’re fighting to—"

"Don’t."

The word came out flat. Final.

Zane went quiet.

I finished wrapping my right hand and flexed it. Pain shot up through my wrist, bright and clean. Good. Clean pain was useful. It pushed out everything else. The memories. The faces. The sound of a door closing behind me for the last time.

Don’t think about that.

"The guy they’ve got in the red corner," Zane said, changing tactics. His voice had gone low. Careful. "He’s not like the others. He’s killed people in that pit, Ela. Actual confirmed kills. He’s massive. Over six foot three. Scarred everywhere. They call him—"

"I don’t care what they call him."

"He weighs almost twice what you do."

"Good."

"Good?"

I stood. The room tilted. I grabbed the edge of the wooden table and waited for everything to settle. It didn’t, entirely. But close enough.

"Five minutes!" someone shouted from the corridor outside.

Zane’s hand caught my shoulder. Gentle. Almost fatherly.

"Please," he said. Barely a whisper. "Just skip this one. Rest. Heal up. There’ll be another fight soon."

I looked at him. One eye swollen, the other burning with something I didn’t want to name.

"Let go."

He held on for another breath. Then his hand dropped.

I walked past him into the corridor. The noise was already building—a deep, rolling thunder that vibrated through the stone floor and up through the soles of my boots. The crowd was hungry tonight. They always were for the main event.

The tunnel opened into blinding light.

Lanterns blazed overhead, tightened into a focused ring around the sand pit. The heat from the bodies packed into the stands hit me like a physical wall. Sweat and smoke and the sharp, animal musk of wolves in the crowd. Hundreds of them, stamping their feet in rhythm. The sound was enormous. Primal.

I stepped onto the sand.

It was still damp from the last fight. Pink-tinged. The rakers had smoothed it, but they couldn’t hide the color. Someone had bled here recently. Someone always bled here.

The announcer’s voice cracked through the noise like a whip.

"In the red corner—standing six foot three, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds—"

The crowd erupted. On the opposite side of the pit, a shape emerged from the tunnel. Massive. The lantern light caught the topology of scar tissue across his shoulders, his arms, his shaved skull. He rolled his neck. Something popped audibly. His eyes found me across the sand, and his lip curled.

"—and in the blue corner, weighing one hundred and thirty pounds—"

Boos. Laughter. Someone threw a crumpled betting slip into the pit.

I didn’t hear the rest.

I was staring at the sand beneath my boots. At the faint pink stain. At nothing.

The pain will stop soon. One way or another.

The bell rang.

He was fast for his size. That was the first thing I registered. The second was his fist closing around a handful of air where my head had been a moment earlier. I ducked left. Not fast enough. His knee caught my hip and spun me sideways.

I tried to reset. Tried to find distance.

He didn’t give me any.

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