Chapter 250: "Fight Them"

Aren reacted before she had time to understand what could possibly have provoked the Black Wolf into attacking the referee. Her hand shot toward Rovan’s wrist, aiming to break his grip before he could crush the man’s throat.

’Release him!’

Rovan seemed to recognize her intention the instant she moved. His leg swung toward her abdomen, exploiting the opening she’d created by extending her arm.

’Gotcha.’

Aren twisted away from the kick, abandoning her attempt to free the referee. Instead, she countered with a sharp punch to Rovan’s side.

THWACK!

The impact was solid, but it seemed to accomplish little more than drawing Rovan’s attention. He remained firmly planted on his feet, barely shifting under the force of the blow.

’Damn it!’

’He’s solid as a rock.’

A faint smirk touched Rovan’s lips as he glanced at Aren, almost as though he appreciated the attempt. Then he turned back to the referee and drove his fist straight into the man’s face.

THWACK!

Blood burst from the referee’s nose.

His eyes immediately lost focus, and when Rovan finally released his throat, he dropped limply to the floor.

Aren watched with growing alarm, hoping that having rendered the referee unconscious, Rovan would at least leave him alone. Instead, he knelt beside the fallen man, his fist rising and coming down again.

THWACK! THWACK!

The referee’s head jerked beneath the blows.

CRACK!

Another punch landed, followed by another, the sounds growing increasingly sickening. By the time Rovan finally stopped, the referee’s face was barely recognizable.

Aren stood motionless for a moment, struggling to reconcile what she’d just witnessed with the courteous man she’d spoken to only seconds earlier.

She was no stranger to killing. She’d done it often enough to recognize the difference between violence committed out of necessity and violence inflicted for its own sake.

Whatever Rovan’s purpose, he’d gone far beyond incapacitating the referee. Judging by the sounds she’d heard, Aren suspected he’d fractured the man’s skull.

Beyond the cage, the audience seemed equally incapable of comprehending what they’d witnessed. Several spectators covered their mouths, while others stared at the motionless referee in open horror.

"What the fuck? Did he just kill the referee?"

"Holy shit, look at the referee’s head! Somebody fucking stop the Wolf!"

"Why isn’t anyone doing anything? The match hasn’t even started!"

The scattered cries did little to break the stunned atmosphere. Even the security personnel stationed around the arena seemed uncertain whether they should intervene.

Inside the cage, Rovan finally rose to his feet. He looked down at the motionless referee for a moment, apparently satisfied with the result, before turning toward Aren.

"I apologize for the little disturbance, Miss Lombardi, but referees can be rather annoying. I simply didn’t want this fellow throwing himself at me and trying to stop me when I do the same thing to you."

Aren stared at him.

"You want to smash my skull, so you attacked the referee first?" she asked, her voice hardening. "What did he ever do to you? Did Mister Hezekiah or Lady Lucilla instruct you to do this?"

Rovan looked almost delighted by the question.

"I imagine both of them would be quite pleased with what I’m doing, although I should correct one thing. Neither of them specifically ordered me to do this."

His lips twitched upward.

"I did this of my own accord. And I don’t merely want to smash your skull, Miss Lombardi. I intend to make sure you never walk out of here alive."

Aren’s confusion deepened.

If Hezekiah, Zachariah, or Lucilla had arranged for Rovan to kill her, she could at least have understood the motive. But this was different.

As far as she knew, she’d never encountered Rovan before.

Even if the rumors about his military background were true, she couldn’t recall fighting in any war he might have participated in. More importantly, this wasn’t even her original world. The possibility of their having crossed paths during her former life was practically nonexistent.

’Then why does he want me dead?’

She had little time to consider the question.

Rovan was already moving.

He charged straight toward her, his enormous strides closing the distance in only a few steps. One hand shot forward, fingers spread, aiming directly for her throat.

In the front row overlooking the cage, Jeremiah finally recovered from the shock of witnessing the referee’s brutal beating.

He’d spent the first few seconds staring in disbelief, trying to understand why a fighter would suddenly murder an official in front of a packed audience, but then he saw Rovan charge toward Aren.

’What the...?’

He shot out of his chair.

"SECURITY! GET INSIDE THE CAGE! TAKE DOWN THE BLACK WOLF! NOW!"

His men reacted immediately, abandoning their positions and moving toward the cage entrance. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who’d been waiting for an opportunity to act.

From the front rows surrounding the cage, several men in expensive suits suddenly rose from their seats. They were unusually large, broad-shouldered men, some nearly as imposing as Rovan himself.

Until that moment, they’d behaved like ordinary spectators. Now they moved with unmistakable purpose, rushing toward the cage and forcing their way through the security personnel attempting to reach it.

"Secure the cage!" one of them shouted. "Form a barrier, brothers! Don’t let anyone near it until the Captain kills that bitch!"

One man struck a guard hard enough to send him stumbling backward. Another seized a security officer by the collar and drove a fist into his face.

Within moments, several had reached the cage and begun positioning themselves around it.

Jeremiah stared in disbelief.

’...Who the fuck are these bastards?’

Whoever they were, they certainly weren’t ordinary spectators. Their expensive suits might have allowed them to blend into the audience, but their coordination and fighting abilities made their intentions obvious.

They were Rovan’s men, and they’d evidently planned this attack in advance.

None seemed to be carrying firearms. The security checks at the entrance had been thorough enough to prevent them from bringing guns into the arena. Unfortunately, keeping guns out of their hands hadn’t prevented them from causing trouble.

The Pit’s security personnel attempted to push them back, but the attackers were clearly trained fighters. They moved efficiently, covering one another as they established a protective ring around the cage.

Soon, a security officer drew his pistol.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"GET ON THE GROUND!" he shouted, firing toward the attackers. "STAY AWAY FROM THE CAGE!"

"Hey! Don’t fucking shoot toward the cage!" another guard yelled. "You’re going to hit the Swan Queen!"

"Then what the fuck are we supposed to do? Punch these guys? They’re beating the shit out of our men!"

"Never mind that! Just fucking shoot them first!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The second round of gunfire sent the already terrified audience into complete chaos.

Spectators who’d remained seated through the referee’s murder began scrambling for the exits. Some dropped beneath their seats, while others fled up the stairs, convinced that an armed assault on the Pit was underway.

The sight of fleeing guests and the sound of gunshots sent Hezekiah into an immediate panic.

He sprang from his chair and turned toward Jeremiah, intending to grab him, but his younger brother had already turned his attention to the security personnel firing near the cage.

"DO NOT SHOOT AT THE CAGE!" Jeremiah roared.

His eyes remained fixed on Aren, who was now exchanging rapid strikes with Rovan inside the fencing. The two fighters were moving so quickly that every gunshot made Jeremiah’s stomach tighten as he tried to determine whether a stray bullet had reached her.

"I REPEAT! DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO BRING THOSE MEN DOWN, BUT DO NOT FUCKING SHOOT TOWARD THE CAGE!"

His furious orders finally made several guards lower their weapons. They retreated a few steps, exchanging frustrated looks before turning toward him.

"What are we supposed to do, then, Young Boss?" one demanded.

"Throw fucking chairs at them?" another shouted.

"USE YOUR FUCKING FISTS!" Jeremiah shouted back. "YOU’RE SECURITY AT A FIGHT CLUB, AREN’T YOU? FIGHT THEM!"

The guards exchanged one last miserable look. The men surrounding the cage were enormous and clearly well trained. Being ordered to confront them without firearms was hardly an encouraging prospect.

Nevertheless, Castellano Club paid its security staff well. They began relaying the order to their colleagues.

"Hold your fire!"

"Nobody shoots toward the cage!"

"Get in close! Use your fists!"

The gunfire gradually subsided as the guards returned to fighting the attackers at close range. Jeremiah watched long enough to confirm that his instructions were being followed before tapping his earpiece.

"Marco, get a sniper into the highest VIP booth immediately. I want a clear angle on that fucking Wolf. Take him down."

Up in the club’s offices, Marco had been dealing with the unfolding disaster since the first reports reached him.

He had no idea how a carefully organized promotional event had deteriorated into what appeared to be a full-scale assault on the club, but he was rapidly running out of patience with everyone involved.

Jeremiah’s latest instruction only added another complication to an already disastrous evening. Before Marco could respond, however, someone else overheard the order.

"Jeremiah, are you fucking crazy?"

Hezekiah finally caught up with his younger brother and seized him by the collar, yanking him around.

"That man is a fighter I signed for hundreds of fucking millions! And you’re going to have someone snipe him?!"

Jeremiah studied him in silence.

Hezekiah looked terrified, furious, and utterly bewildered by what Rovan was doing.

’...So this rotten brother of mine didn’t arrange any of this?’

Under ordinary circumstances, Jeremiah might have responded with one of his usual charming smiles. At the moment, however, he had neither the patience nor the inclination to pretend he found his brother’s company pleasant.

"Then what do you suggest, brother?"

He looked down at Hezekiah with undisguised contempt.

"Isn’t that your fighter? What the fuck is he doing in my cage with my referee and my fighter? Why don’t you go in there and talk him out of it?"

Hezekiah stared back as though he’d just been asked to commit suicide.

"Talk him out of it?" he repeated incredulously. "After what he did to that referee? Like hell I’m going in there to talk to him! But you are not going to fucking snipe my—"

THWACK!

Jeremiah’s fist struck Hezekiah squarely in the face. The older man’s head snapped backward, and blood immediately spilled from his nose.

"AAAAH! FUCK!"

Hezekiah staggered, both hands flying to his face as he tried to determine whether his nose was still intact.

"Y-you... you... you fucking punched me!" he sputtered in disbelief. "I’m going to tell Mother! I’m going to—"

He took another unsteady step backward.

Unfortunately, his heel caught on one of the chairs behind him. He lost his balance and fell, striking the back of his head against the edge of a nearby table before collapsing onto the floor.

THUD!

Hezekiah lay motionless.

Jeremiah glanced down at his unconscious brother, his expression unchanged.

’Yeah.’

’That suits you much better.’

He had no intention of wasting another moment on the man. Instead, he turned back toward the cage, his anxiety intensifying as he watched Aren continue fighting Rovan.

"Come on, Marco!" he said into his earpiece. "Get a fucking sniper into those VIP booths now!"

Marco’s reply came almost immediately, his voice strained with frustration.

"I’m on it, Young Boss! I’m on it! For fuck’s sake, relax!"

Jeremiah nearly shouted back.

’Why don’t you come down here, watch what’s happening, and then tell me to fucking relax?’

He managed to restrain himself.

There were more immediate concerns. His security personnel were struggling to break through the ring of attackers surrounding the cage, and he couldn’t afford to stand around waiting for someone else to resolve the situation.

’All right, then.’

’Let’s smash these fuckers first.’

He removed his white suit jacket and tossed it aside.

’Once I get inside that cage, I’m going to beat Rovan fucking Drask into the floor.’