Maisie
Quinlan flicked his wrist, tossing her a chip he must've taken without my notice. "I prefer longer odds."
The woman practically preened, tucking it into her bra and blowing him a kiss before melting back into the roaring crowd.
I glared at Quinlan, and he shrugged. "I'm a business man, cherie. I make investments."
"That's just another word for gambling," I said.
"Oh really?" he blinked innocently.
The crowds roaring took a sudden hike, the new bloodthirst so intense, goosebumps spread across my skin.
Distress burned in my chest, spreading out like fire and my feet moved with urgency. Quinlan swore, coming after me, and the closer we drew to the front, the heavier the bond dragged at my soul, bleeding agony and fear into my veins.
I broke through the tight front line of the crowd and stopped dead in my tracks.
Beyond the mesh was a low grounded pit the size of a small field, whose floor was covered in a thick layer of sand. The sand was red and wet with blood.
