Wow. I shook my head. Tonight had been an extreme roller coaster, and I wanted to get off.
Lowering myself onto my blankets, I curled up, the extra padding feeling better than any luxury bed I’d ever slept in.
Distant cries and cheers from the games filled my ears with white noise, pulling me into a deep sleep. My body gave over to the first full night of sleep I had since arriving, probably thanks to whatever the healers shot me with.
In spite of that, Zander’s claim wound through my dreams. My sleep was haunted by images of HDF toppling, pieces crushing Caden and those I loved, while I stood in the middle…watching.
Chapter 19
Two weeks passed in a blur of sameness. The one difference I noticed was most stepped out of my way or nodded at me with respect, the name “Piranha” circling the prison. I still had to fight to get any “real” food, but toast with butter was available for me every morning. Still, more weight slid off my bones, leaving me weak and tired.
I wasn’t ready to fight tonight, but when death awaited you, time had a funny way of speeding up. In a blink, the day of the Games was on me again. I had no idea who I’d be fighting, but there was no question they would make it harder, my chances of survival dimming.
“You will win tonight.” Tad set down his coffee cup, studying me. The mess hall buzzed with more intensity than normal, excitement for a night of blooding and the thrill of looking around the room wondering who wouldn’t be with us tomorrow.
“You don’t know that, old man.” I tossed my toast down, suddenly not hungry.
“Eat every bite.” Tad nodded at the three slices of bread. “You need your strength.”
Glaring at him like a nagging parent, I made a show of shoving half a piece into my mouth all at once.
“Oh, good. Choke to death first.” He shook his head with a sigh, going serious again. “You can do this, girl. I have never seen someone fight as you do. The way you move?” He tilted his head. “Like a ghost. You are magic out there.”
“Yeah, against a slow-moving human,” I snorted, swallowing my bread, feeling it lump in my gut, “I’m lightning.”
“No.” Tad’s bushy eyebrows blended into one long fuzzy caterpillar. “It’s more than that. You actually remind me of—”
Tad’s sentence was cut off by commotion at the doorway. Chatter and people turning to look drew my attention. My gaze landed on the guard who had checked me in, “cleansed” me on the first night, and showed me to my cell. He stood with a new prisoner, dressed in gray.
Human.
My eyes latched on to the new fish.
The world tipped to the side. With a gasp, my cup fell from my fingers, spilling over the table, whipping everyone’s attention to me for a moment, including the new prisoner.
I blinked several times, not understanding what I was seeing. There was no way.
His eyes widened, taking me in, and filled with a mix of joy, relief, and shock.
“Oh. My. Gods. Kovacs?” He shook his head, not believing what he was seeing either, his form already moving toward me. “Shit. We all thought you were dead.” he wailed, my brain taking in the form running for me.
Aron Horvát.
My comrade at HDF, the asshole who took my virginity, the guy I loved beating up. All that made sense out there, but seeing him here? My mind couldn’t make sense of it, a puzzle piece being forced into the wrong spot. What was he doing here? How?
“Brexley, I can’t believe it’s you.” He was suddenly there in my face, his arms slinging around me. “Fuck, Kovacs, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. Markos would flip if he knew you were alive.”
Caden’s last name and mine seemed to break away from the rest of his words, booming off the walls, echoing in surround sound like a jackhammer, slamming me back to the present.
Holy. Fuck. He had just said my name—one of the cardinal rules broken.
Dread filled my stomach, panic walloping my lungs as my eyes darted around. Some faces were blank, but most stared at me in disbelief, their brains trying to place the name, filling with awareness. Shock. Hatred.
Prisoner 85221 or Laura Nagy was safe. Unknown. Brexley Kovacs, ward of General Istvan Markos, daughter of Benet Kovacs, was a target.
It was something Istvan drilled in Caden and me, to keep