Leo's body hadn't moved since Ragnar's final, crushing blow. The weight of silence in the underground arena stretched far too long before the medics hurriedly dragged him from the pit. No one, not even Ragnar, looked particularly interested in whether he was alive or dead. The match was over. That was all that mattered here.
I could tell that the sheer brutality of it hadn't done anything to ease the nerves of my team. Milan and Anthony had paled slightly, their expressions forcibly neutral, but I saw the tension in their jaws. The girls weren't faring much better. Sienna's fingers clutched the fabric of her dress, and Camille, though still wearing her teasing smirk, had lost the relaxed ease in her posture. Even Alexis, usually the most composed, was gripping her arms tighter than usual, her sharp eyes flitting between Vincent Giovanni and the next competitors, likely gauging the mafia boss's reaction.
