Chapter 180 The Fight Game

• Donatello watched her from his velvet chair, legs crossed, a glass of wine resting in one hand as if he were simply enjoying an evening show—not orchestrating it.
• Ellerei stood in the center of the warehouse floor, collar still around her throat, the chain finally unhooked. She rubbed at the raw skin where it had been secured, not for comfort, but to keep the blood flowing. Her eyes stayed on Donatello.
• "You look tense," he mused, swirling his glass. "Need to burn some of that energy off?"