function within Tobias had stopped, his mind empty in an instant. He stared at the hulking block in front of him, at the thin crevice where Milo’s body was wedged—at the blood oozing onto the floor.
A clunk sounded, and the walls separated. Strings of blood and entrails—strings of Milo—clung to the block as it retracted into place. Tobias looked away, but even in his peripheral vision he could make out his best friend’s crushed body sticking to the wall, his brain matter caking the brick, the violent spray of blood.
The other competitors murmured, as the paint on the floor magically rippled into different shapes, revealing a new word:
GO
The men stirred before continuing on, but Tobias remained still, his face wet with Milo’s blood.
A slap on his back awoke him. Kaleo stood at his side, cocking his head at Milo’s mess of a corpse. “Well, now he knows. What would happen, that is. He was curious, yes?”
He squeezed Tobias’s shoulder and ventured into the sanctuary.
Tobias felt it then—the slow trickle of consciousness. His heart was beating, first softly, then hard, enough to break past his rib cage. His body was warm, then unbearably hot, as if his blood were fire coursing through him. He didn’t see Milo any longer; he saw Kaleo waltzing through the sanctuary without care or concern, without a hint of remorse, and a swell of rage awakened him, inciting him to act.
To kill.
His hands curled into white-knuckled fists. “You fucking shit.”
Tobias charged ahead, pouncing onto Kaleo’s back and wrapping his hands around his throat. “You bastard! You fucking bastard!”
Kaleo flipped Tobias over his shoulder, dropping him to the floor. Pain tore through his body, but to him it was fuel, urging him to stand, to keep going. Other competitors circled, but all that mattered was Kaleo, his smile, his empty gaze.
“Oh no.” Kaleo laughed. "Have I upset you?”
Tobias jabbed Kaleo in the chin. “I’ll kill you.” He landed another punch. “Do you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”
Kaleo realigned his jaw, eyeing Tobias up and down. “Good man, I’m afraid you have it backwards. I’m quite certain I’ll be the one to inevitably kill you.”
He slammed his fist into Tobias’s jaw—hard, the impact radiating through him in waves. The next blow was to the eye, then the pit of his gut, and Tobias reeled as the air evacuated his lungs. Already he was crumbling; every impulse within him was desperate to fight, to kill Kaleo, but all he could do was yield to his suffering.
Hands forced him upright. Drake and Antaeus held him still, and before he could resist, Kaleo’s fist once again hurtled toward his face. Pain burst through his mouth, his nose, each jab more severe than the last. Everything within him felt defeated, and then he felt nothing, suddenly numb to the ache. Perhaps he was dying. I hope I’m dying. But between the blows, Kaleo’s laughter rang in his ears.
“Stupid shit,” he cackled. “Stupid worthless shit.”
“Enough.”
Tobias lurched forward, pulled free from Drake and Antaeus’s hold. “We’ve reached the sanctuary,” the Hunter said, keeping Tobias upright. “Let the man rest. We fight again tomorrow.”
Kaleo’s eyes flitted between Tobias and the Hunter for what felt like ages. “Another time.” He slapped Tobias on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. “There’s twenty-nine days ahead of us. No sense in rushing the fun.”
He ambled off with Drake and Antaeus following close behind, and soon the other men did the same. Tobias steadied himself, his face battered and bloodied, but the rage within him was very much alive.
The Hunter grabbed him by the shoulders. “If I were you, I’d tread lightly. Honor your friend by staying alive.”
He left Tobias where he stood, joining the others within the sanctuary, but Tobias didn’t move. The ache was acute, pulsing through him with harrowing strength, yet in that moment all his attention—and hatred—belonged to Kaleo.
Time in the sanctuary seemed at a standstill. The other men mingled, getting acquainted with the competition, but Tobias kept to himself. He managed to wipe both his and Milo’s blood from his face, but his hands were left covered in red, and he balled them into fists just to keep from seeing them. Pain infected his entire being—the sting of his spider bites, the throbbing of his beaten skull—but the single most intolerable feeling was the emptiness within.
Milo is dead.
“What the…?”
Tobias barely noticed the voice, but only because it was followed by the slow swiveling of heads. One by one, the men turned to stare