Ares’ flinty gaze flicked to Tragos as Barak sneered at him. “As if you have a chance in Hell,” Barak spat at his brother. “You’ve never beat me before, and you sure as fuck won’t beat me now.”
Ares had to make a very fast decision. Barak was going down, that was for certain. “Stand down,” he said, not unkindly. “This one wants to fight me. Fine. You think you can do it, let's go.” He moved forward, chin raised and strong, keeping Barak in his sights as he stepped right up to him. The dog growled again, watching his master closely. “Put out the word. In the arena, in half an hour. Barak is going to fight me for the leadership.” The look on his face gave no doubt about who he thought would win. Ares was nothing if not supremely confident. “Sound fair? I’ll even let you have the first hit.”
Marcie inhaled sharply and shuddered, looking now to Tragos. The heat was off her, but that didn’t mean this was over, not by a long shot. She had the wild urge to take Tragos by the arm and run.