Page 85 of Under the Lies

And sure enough, Gabe shucks off his jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeve, flashing them a tattoo on his forearm. It’s small, about the size of a half-dollar.

I don’t have to be next to Gabe to know what it is.

A black dragon mid-flight with webbed wings.

Of course I recognize it.

My sister has the same one. Noah has one. They all do. Tattoos they got in high school. At the time I thought they were living up to their reckless reputations, getting matching tattoos for the hell of it. I never attached any other meaning behind them.

Until now.

But what exactly?

The slat closes and the heavy door opens with a groan, revealing nothing but darkness.

Gabe goes in first with Reeve close behind, but neither Thea and I move, our arms still locked together.

“Thea,” I start, wanting to know what the tattoo means but she squeezes my arm.

In a soft whisper, she says, “Remember what I told you.”

I barely have time to nod before she pulls me through the door which shuts immediately behind us and causes me to jump.

“It’s okay,” Thea reassures me before pulling me farther into the space. My steps are unsure by not being able to see right in front of me. It’s so dark. So quiet. Even are steps are light, barely making a noise.

I feel so off center, not hearing or seeing anything, until a soft crescendo starts to build, hitting my ears and building with our strides.

Voices. People.

Cheering. People are cheering.

What they’re cheering, I can’t decipher, but the noise soon becomes deafening as we get the first taste of light. A warm glow halos above an open door.

We walk through it and into a hell pit.

Literally.

My jaw drops, eyes widening.

It’s hotter than an inferno, and not just because there are people crowded in the room, packed like sardines. Wild flames dance on the wall in torches.

No one seems to care about the fires, though, not when their attention is focused on the center of the room. Where a metal cage sits.

A ring for fighting.

And in the center, on opposite sides, are two men. Waiting. One bounces with anxious energy, headphones in his ears, while the other stands there. So still. My eyes hone in on him. Bare-chested and broad-shouldered, his knuckles taped tight.

A perfectly sculpted back with muscles chiseled by an artist.

He’s turned away from us, but I know who it is.

Noah.

Tense and ready to fight.

I can’t take my eyes off him, not even to watch where I’m going. All I know is that Thea is leading me closer to the cage while Gabe and Reeve shove people out of our way.

A loud bang washes over the room, shaking the building.

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