The cage door slammed shut behind me, the roar of the crowd swallowed everything.

I flexed my fingers. Rolled my shoulders.

The black combat suit was tight across my chest, a second skin built for movement, not comfort.

The half-mask sat flush against my face. Smooth. Featureless below the eyes.

Luna Ghost. That was who I was tonight.

Not Lia. Not Aurelia Veythorne.

Just a shadow with claws.

Across the pit, Crusher was already waiting. Crusher of the Howling Pit, a name that carried across rings.

He was massive. Not just tall, thick through the chest, shoulders in a way that screamed pure muscle, nothing wasted.

A Delta killer. Born...