Aiden Knight's POV
Bradley Orwell's cold fury filled the arena like winter wind. His rejection had transformed him from generous benefactor to dangerous enemy in mere moments. The twenty thousand spectators sensed the shift in atmosphere. Nervous murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"You made a grave mistake, boy," Bradley said quietly. His voice carried despite its low volume. "The Orwell family has stood for eight centuries. We don't tolerate disrespect."
I remained motionless among the three corpses. Blood still stained my hands from Vincent Finch's death. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise."
Bradley's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. He raised his voice to address the crowd again.
"Since young Knight has chosen the path of defiance, perhaps someone should teach him proper respect."
My muscles tensed instinctively. This felt like another setup.
