“Do it for me. Don’t let me die slow. Pathetically. Let me join my sister.” He choked out every word, his forehead wrinkling with agony. “Wouldn’t you want the same? A hero’s death.” He swallowed, his eyes pleading. “Give them what they want. Take the victory.”
“I will do it for you. Not for them.” I went down on my knees. For the first time, I saw the person in his eyes, the life I knew nothing about. Friends, family. “Why are you in here?”
“Sister.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper and broke over the syllables like a wave breaking against rocks. “Tried to save her from…testing…Savage Lands…there’s…don’t trust…” His eyes fluttered closed, his face streaked in agony.
“Don’t trust what?”
“Kill. Me.” The demand barely made it to my ears.
My chin wobbling, I covered his mouth and nose. He tried to jerk his head, but it didn’t take much for him to drift into a forever sleep, his limbs going lax.
Sitting back on my heels, surrounded by dead bodies, I heard the boos of the mob, the viewers clearly unhappy with the way Rodriguez died. It wasn’t cruel or violent enough to be considered entertainment.
Blood covered the arena, drenching my clothes in death. But it wasn’t enough.
“I’m sorry.” I leaned over him, my hands touching him.
His bulk jolted under my palms, his lashes fluttering. Fuck me! I jerked away, air clipping the back of my throat, but when I peered at him, he laid still, empty of life, as if I imagined it.
Death took a while for the body to understand, but it still had my heart thumping.
Slowly, I stood, but my muscles struggled to hold me. Tossing down the stake in revulsion, I turned around and marched to the tunnel, ignoring the crowd booing and hissing at me.
If you didn’t come in a murderer, this place turned you into one.
“Prisoner 85221!” A man’s voice formally called for me down the passage as I moved out of the tunnel to the main prison area. Footsteps pounded behind me. “Stop.”
“Leave me alone.” I could feel myself breaking with every step, the reality of what I had done tearing into my soul.
“I can’t.” Zander caught up with me, his hands clutching my arms and halting me. “You are still a prisoner.” Zander stepped closer. “And not a very popular one right now.”
“Why?” I exclaimed, tears clamoring up my throat. “I gave them everything they wanted. I killed two people tonight. One of whom was a close acquaintance of mine. What more do they want? Just because I didn’t dagger Rodriguez? I still killed him.”
“You are also General Markos’s daughter.”
“I’m not his daughter.”
“Doesn’t matter. You are close enough. You are important to him, which makes you important to his enemies. Markos’s name is venom within these walls. You are not safe anymore.”
“Was I ever?” I lifted my head, my gaze challenging his. “From the moment I walked in, I have been singled out far more than anyone else.”
“That’s because there is something about you. Good or bad. Admiration or hate. You are a magnet for them both.” One hand dropped away from my arm, cupping my dirty and bloodied cheek gently. “The instant you walked up, I felt it. A lure. The scales tipping one way or the other. I just didn’t expect the side I would end up on.”
He was so close, his warm consoling hand on my face while the sounds of cheers and chants came from the pit, signaling the final fight of the night. Lost, grieving, and barely standing, I longed for safety. Comfort. To not feel or think.
He leaned in closer, his breath grazing my lips. I wanted him to kiss me, to lose myself in pleasure. To forget all the pain and ugliness. He was a warm body who seemed to care about me.
“Brexley,” he whispered my name, his mouth touching mine.
The clang of a cell door closing wailed down the corridor, jolting us back. Reality dumped down on me, the realization of what I was about to do to forget the horrors of the night.
I had sex with Aron, let him be my first because of heartbreak and longing for someone else. I’d known him since the age of thirteen, and I had brutally killed him, even as he pleaded for me to stop. And here I was, his gore still warm on my clothes, about to make out with my guard. What kind of person was I?