Sebastian retreats into a gruff silence a little more with each day, and it’s strange to see him without a cocky smile, or a good natured grimace every time Sylvie and I touch each other in front of him. He trains harder than ever, and he pushes his sister harder than ever. Then, on the night before the season finale, he pulls me out of the bathroom doorway before I can join Sylvie in the shower.
“Be right there!” I call in after her, and the fact that she doesn’t question it tells me she’s lost in her own thoughts. And that they’re no more pleasant than mine are.
“Do you have a plan?” Sebastian whispers, while we stand guard in front of the bathroom door. “For how you’re going to end it? Does she know?”
“I haven’t told her. But she’s not stupid, Sebastian. She knows I’m planning something.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“She’ll notice if I take her switchblade, so I’m going to grab something from the greenroom. I don’t think they’ll leave anything sharp unattended, so maybe a butter knife, or something. But I’ll need you to distract everyone while I steal it.”
“Not a problem,” he promises. “But you need to make your move as soon as you’re both on the sand. I mean…don’t drag it out. For her sake. Watching you die will be hard enough for her.” Sebastian clears his throat, then gives me an almost respectful look. “She fucking loves you, man. I wish you two had met before…Skye. Maybe you could have talked her out of it.”
“If I’d met her while I was still free, I would never have ended up in here,” I tell him. I still would have avenged my family. But I would have made damn sure I wasn’t caught.
“Well, as shitty as this sounds, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah. Me too. Take care of her, Sebastian. When you get out of here, anyway. Find her in the open population. She’ll be in zone three. Charles got drunk on the blimp once and told me that’s where they release the champions.”
“I’ll find her. And it won’t be long, either.” He lowers his voice, to keep whatever he’s about to say from both the security cameras and the other inmates loitering in the grimy atrium. “I’m working on something. I can’t leave her on her own out there for the next four months, waiting on the end of the next combat season.”
“Good.” I don’t ask for any details, because the less he says, the less can be overheard.
Sebastian holds his hand out. “It’s truly an honor to have known you, man. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Sylvie.”
“You too.” I give his hand a firm shake, trying not to think about the fact that this is truly a goodbye.
“Okay. Tell her goodnight for me. I’m going to bow out of the rest of your evening.” Then Sebastian disappears down the hall into D block.
I join Sylvie for a quick shower, then we head back to our cell just as lockdown begins. Metal doors slide shut up and down the aisle. We brush our teeth and lay our toothbrushes out to dry, then we settle onto the bed for what we both know damn well will be our last night together. No matter how everything goes down tomorrow.
That’s so strange to think about. As shitty as this place is, it’s become our home. The best memories of my life are set right here, on this crappy vinyl pad, in this tiny, filthy concrete room.
I can’t quite believe it’s all about to be over. That I’m hours away from death. But I have no trouble imagining Sylvie striking out on her own in the open population, strong and healthy. A force to be reckoned with, with her switch blade, her endless determination, and her fucking expert knowledge of anatomy.
Distantly, as I kiss my way down her neck, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo, I hear a soft thud from down the hall. A couple of unfortunate idiots who didn’t get cells are probably fighting.
Another thud echoes toward us, and I decide I was right.
Just as I realize I haven’t heard the grunts and cursing that inevitably accompany a fight, our cell door slides open.
I push myself up and spin toward the bars. “What the—”
Three guards storm into our cell in full riot gear, helmets, face shields, and all. I position myself in front of Sylvie, and the guard in the lead pulls his gun.
“Wait—!”
He pulls the trigger. Fire explodes in my chest. Darkness washes over me before I even hit the ground.
23
SYLVIE
“Where are we going?” I demand as two of the guards practically drag me down A block, my wrists cuffed at my back. We’re following the lead guard, who has his pistol out, ready to stun anyone he finds not locked in a cell. Though he’s clearly already gotten to most of them. “Hey. What the hell are you doing?”
The guards maintain their silence all the way through the atrium and down the short path toward the gate to the landing pad, where I was released into the bullpen nine long weeks ago.
The gate slides open as we approach, and I see that there’s an unfamiliar shuttle on the landing pad, its engine still running. In case they need a quick getaway?
A ramp folds down from the side of the shuttle and the guards haul me up into the ship, which is larger than a transport or a patrol shuttle but smaller than a cargo shuttle. And much smaller than the blimp. The ramp closes behind us, and the ship immediately rises into the air so smoothly that I wouldn’t even know we were moving, if I couldn’t see the bullpen dropping away from us through the window.
“Ms. Wolfe. Have a seat.”
Shit. I know that voice.
I turn to my right to see Warden Shaw through an open doorway into what appears to be a mobile office, complete with an obscenely extravagant wooden executive style desk, which probably cost a fortune not just to build, but to ship into deep space.
One of the guards escorts me into the room and shoves me into a chair across from the desk. Then he takes up a position on my right, staring at me. Evidently waiting for an excuse to shoot me where I sit.
“What can I do for you, Warden? Is this about the barbecue sauce? Because really, I think you should be grateful it took us two months to figure that one out.”
He looks quietly amused. For about half a second. “Ms. Wolfe, I wanted to have a little chat with you about tomorrow’s finale. I hear from Kaya Johnston that you know what’s expected of you in the arena. But I want to make sure that you truly understand the stakes.”
Fuck. He spoke to Kaya. What else did she tell him? Is this about what I asked her to do? Are there hidden cameras in the greenroom bathroom, after all? Or did she rat me out?
“I understand that you might be somewhat hesitant to end Mr. Anderson’s life tomorrow, so let me assure you that you’ll be doing him a favor. A mercy, in fact.”
“Because if I don’t kill him, you’ll execute us both in some horrible manner, live on the feed? I’ve already heard this story, so unless you have an alternate ending…” I shrug and start to stand, but the guard pushes me back down.
“What I have are some enlightening details.” Shaw picks up a slim, flat viewing screen and taps it to wake it up, then turns it to face me. “Have you ever seen our hunting hounds, Ms. Wolfe?”
The image frozen on his screen shows what appears to be a huge metal dog, with an antenna for a tail. The way its eyes are lit up tells me they’re probably cameras. Or flashlights. Or both. The dog’s mouth is open to reveal a terrifying arrangement of metal teeth that look like triangular razor blades.
“On its own, one can do quite a bit of damage.” He taps the back of the screen, and the dog lurches into motion as the feed begins to play. It’s tearing through a patch of trees with distinctive red leaves—clearly a bit of forest here on Rhodon. Someone screams, and the shot widens to show a large man racing ahead of the dog. Running from it.
The dog overtakes the poor man easily and descends upon him in an eerily silent fury of snapping jaws and slicing teeth. In seconds, the man is reduced to crimson ribbons of ruined flesh and crushed bones. There’s so little of him left intact that they’ll have to scoop him up with a shove
l to dispose of his body.
Shaw stops the feed and sets the screen on his desktop. “We’ve just received a fresh shipment of a dozen brand new hunting hounds, six of which will be in the ring with you tomorrow. If your sponsors decide you’re not performing to the best of your ability, I will press a button, and my hounds will rip your lover to shreds right in front of you, leaving him just barely alive but in agonizing pain, so that he can watch them do the same thing to you.
“Your brother will have a front row seat. And we’ll send a personalized copy with eight different angles of the kill straight to your parents.”
“You are a sick, sick bastard,” I whisper, glad that my hands are cuffed behind my back, so he can’t see them shake.
“Alas, today I’m only a messenger. These decisions are made over my head, by the people in charge of the money. Tomorrow’s finale promises to bring in the largest viewership in the history of prisoner combat, and the executives at Universal Authority will not let you ruin that. So, do yourself a favor and fight like you mean it. Then pull the trigger like a good girl. You’ll be saving both your lover and yourself from an agonizing death. Then you’ll be released into the open population, free to live out your life in relative peace. Do you understand?”
I can only nod, my jaw clenched to keep myself from spewing profane threats at him and digging myself into an even deeper hole.
“Good.” Shaw turns to the guard and waves one hand at the door. “Take her back.”
As the shuttle lifts off again, carrying Warden Shaw back to the safety of his guard station in orbit, I flip the ship off in silent protest from the landing pad.
What I understand is that if Kaya doesn’t come through for me, I will fucking kill her myself.
Graham sits up with a start, sucking in a deep breath. His eyes are wide and stunned, which I can only see because I’ve been staring at him in the dark, and my vision is fully adjusted. He turns, and when he finds me next to him, relief washes over his expression. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lie. “Well, I’m not hurt, anyway.” I’ve been watching him for hours. His breathing was so shallow that at times I couldn’t even tell he was alive. I was starting to worry about brain damage through oxygen deprivation.
“Lie down, Graham. I don’t think we have much time before they end lockdown.” The moon went down a couple of hours ago, and the darkest hours of the night on Rhodon always come right before dawn.
“Seriously. What the hell happened, Sylvie?” Graham doesn’t lie down, so I sit up and lean with my back against the wall, my legs folded between us on the bed.
“Warden Shaw had me taken from the bullpen for a little chat, on what was evidently his private shuttle. He wanted to make sure I know that if we refuse to fight, our execution will not be…pleasant.”
“Meaning...?”
“Meaning, they’ll have us torn apart on camera by half a dozen mechanical hunting dogs. He showed me video. It’s pretty gruesome.”
Graham nods. “I’ve seen them in action, during our escape from the Resort. They’re just as terrifying in real life as they are on the screen. It’s overkill, but Shaw’s obviously using them as a deterrent. In case any future inmates decide not to fight.”
I nod. “That, and a threat to prompt one of us into giving the other a ‘merciful’ death.”
“You have to do it.” Graham takes my hand in the dark. “Sylvie, I can’t watch you slaughtered right in front of me, but I can’t kill you. Not even to be kind.”
“What makes you think I can kill you?”
“I’m going to help you.” He hesitates for a second, as if he’s trying to decide how to say whatever he has to say. Or how much to tell me. “Sebastian’s going to cause a distraction in the greenroom, so I can steal a knife from the buffet. I’ll give it to you in the dugout. I might only be able to get a butter knife, but that should work.”
“Wait, you already made that plan? What were you going to do with the knife?” He won’t kill me. Which means… “You were going to kill yourself.”
He gives me a solemn nod. “And if you can’t do it, I still will.”
“Oh my god, this is so fucked up.”
“I know.” He turns to sit next to me against the wall, and his arm wraps around my waist. “But they’re not giving us much of a choice. So, I’m just saying, if you can’t do it…I will.”
The greenroom feels somber today, even though there’s a crêpe station set up with fresh fruit and chocolate for fillings. The scent is practically sinful, in the best possible way.
I could not feel less like eating.
I head into the bathroom alone and take a quick shower, instead of soaking in the tub, because I can’t bring myself to enjoy something in this horrid place. In fact, I can’t believe I ever did. They only give us hot baths and good food to keep us malleable. Marketable. And the whole time, they’ve been planning this. Setting the finale up to make Graham and me kill each other.
One minute, it’s cocktail parties and champagne. Interviews and scented soaps. The next, it’s a bloodbath.
I come out of the bathroom, and Renee frowns when he sees that I’ve already washed my hair. He views my head as his sovereign territory, and he’s pretty damn territorial. I sit in his chair, facing the mirror, and notice that Sebastian and Graham are already dressed in skin tight gladiator pants, which leave their chiseled chests bare. I’m still wearing the robe from the bathroom.
As Renee starts to comb out my wet hair, movement in the mirror catches my eye as about half of the long line of guards standing against the far wall go stiff and turn to their left. I follow their focus to see my brother and Kaya standing in one corner of the room, deep in what’s obviously a private conversation. She looks mad. But she’s standing super close to him, as if she can’t stay angry at him, even when she wants to punch him.
He’s elicited that response from nearly every woman he’s ever known. Including Skye and me. And our mother.
Then as I watch, Sebastian suddenly grabs Kaya’s arms and kisses her right on the mouth. Hard. She’s stiff, at first. But then she gives in, and they’re full-on making out. Right there in front of everyone.
The guards start yelling and drawing their guns. Tension in the greenroom skyrockets, but my brother keeps kissing our sponsorship liaison, and she seems completely incapable of resisting. Or completely disinclined to.
The guards move closer, shouting louder, and Renee turns to stare. As I spin my chair around for a better view, pulse pounding in my ears, I notice that Graham is standing at the end of the buffet, holding a full plate. When he slips a knife beneath the snug material over his left hip, I understand.
This is Sebastian’s distraction.
“Let her go!” the lead guard shouts, aiming at my brother from two feet away. They only reason they haven’t already fired is that Sebastian has positioned himself with Kaya between him and the guns. Like an erotic human shield. “Or we will stun her to get to you.”
Finally, my brother pushes Kaya back. Her face detaches from his with a wet smacking sound, and she blinks. For a second, she looks too stunned to form words. Then she frowns, and I see reality slam into place behind her eyes. She pulls her hand back and slaps Sebastian across the face.
He grins back at her as if that’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen a woman do. As if there isn’t a bright red handprint on his left cheek.
“Back away! Now!” the lead guard shouts.
Kaya turns to them, her face flaming. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Stand down. Mr. Wolfe has learned his lesson.”
Surely no less accurate statement has ever been uttered.
As Kaya crosses the room, she passes by Charles, and I hear her whisper, “If you air that, I will cut your balls off and mail them home to your mother.”
I have to admit, I’m a little impressed.
“What the hell is wrong with your brother?” Kaya whispers fiercely when Margie crosses the room to dig a new bottle of
foundation from her huge supply bag.
I shrug at her in the mirror. “He’s arrogant. Impulsive. Overprotective. But if what you’re asking me is why he kissed you, maybe the question you should be asking yourself is why you kissed him back.”
“I didn’t—”
“Kaya. In case you’ve forgotten, today’s pretty much guaranteed to be the worst day of my life. And keep in mind that my list of previous bad days includes the day my sister was murdered, the day I was sentenced to death, and the day I arrived on this crimson horror of a planet. So I don’t really have time to help you rationalize whatever hormonal shit-show is going on in your poor, confused, repressed body.”
She stares at my reflection, and she looks…hurt.
“Look. I’m not in the position to give anyone advice right now,” I hiss. And in the mirror, I see Margie stand with the bottle she was looking for. “My life—what’s left of it—is one big consequence of every decision I’ve made. What I can tell you is that I don’t regret a single second I’ve spent with Graham. Speaking of which…” I lower my voice as Margie crosses the room toward us. “Were you able to do that favor I asked for?”
“Yes. But—”
“Found it!” Margie arrives with the foundation, shooing Kaya out of the way so she can do my makeup. Kaya frowns at me in the mirror for a second. Then she leaves to discuss something with the caterer.
Sebastian has already left for his interviews by the time my makeup is done, but they’ve left Graham with me, because we’re going to be interviewed together. On our way toward the door, where a dozen guards are waiting to escort us to the media room, I pass Charles and notice that the footage he’s watching on his screen shows Sebastian kissing Kaya. He’s clearly thinking of broadcasting it, despite her warning.
Champion Page 25