Wet wavy strings of Fetu's hair hung into his face, dripping sweat into his narrowed and determined eyes as he used the bars of his cells to pull his hanging legs up. In the low glow of candlelight, the trembling muscles of his stomach bunched with each ripple of pain that thrummed through him.
He let out a heavy breath every time he pulled up. He didn't see the darkness in front of his very own eyes—he saw Colton's face, twisted in sick laughter. He saw himself too. Inside the pits, fighting for his life. For another day only for his life to continually hang between the land of the living and the realms of the dead.
"He's the best one I have!" Colton called from the rows of stone seats that suspended high above the underground pit where slaves were torn apart.
