The sharp, rhythmic clap of Natalya's hands sliced through the heavy silence of the arena, echoing like a gunshot in the blood-drenched air. The crowd, still stunned by the brutality of the fight, erupted into cheers at the sound, their voices rising in a deafening wave of excitement and awe.
The announcer, snapping back to reality, grabbed the mic with shaking hands, his voice cracking as he declared, "The winner is—Death!"
Natalya stepped into the cage, her leather boots crushing the bodies of her fallen bodyguards beneath her heels, their blood smearing the polished leather.
She walked closer, her dark eyes locked onto me, her gaze sharp and unwavering, like a queen surveying her newest conquest. The crowd cheered, but she ignored them, her attention solely on me.
"You are mine from now on," she declared, her voice cold and commanding, leaving no room for argument. "Do you have any objection?"
I held her gaze, my voice steady, respectful. "I have no objection, Ma'am."
