way, I’ll be spending an eternity in Hell for being the one to kill those whose only crime was to be terrified. There will be no redemption for me.” I rubbed my face. It was true, most of those that I’d ended were just scared people who had been forced into the entertainment rooms of the arena fights. They weren’t fighters. Perhaps I deserved an eternity in Hell for my crimes. Damn, I needed to continue before I lost my nerve. “The unlucky fuckers who are chosen are allocated fight groups and every fight is to the death. The winner from each fight makes it to the next round, until there is a victor of that group. The victors are then pitted against one another, until there are ultimately only two survivors.”
Her face blanched as the implication of my words hit her. “You mean all those people who lose, die?” She swallowed over and over as if holding back a wave of nausea.
I nodded. “The warden and Doherty bring in high fliers; the richest people in the world, who can bet obscene amounts of cash on the fights. It’s how he and the warden earn money and fund this place.”
“Who picks or pairs up the fighters?” She coughed, clearing the thickness from her voice, and rubbed her arms.
Curbing my instinct to pace, I perched on the desk next to her and crossed my arms over my chest. A whole new level of self-loathing hit me, not because of the amount of people I’d sent to their deaths, or for the ones I’d killed, but because there was not enough guilt in my heart for the lives I’d ended. “I’ve no idea, not really. Probably a computer programme.”
“What happens if you refuse to kill those who don’t want to fight?”
I curled my hands into fists. “They torture Rawson and my brothers, or me, until I do as they demand.”
She swallowed, her eyes widening. “What do they do to Rawson? Is that why he looks so broken?”
“I don’t know exactly what they do, but yeah. The first time I refused, the warden broke my fingers one by one, then held me paralysed as he made Rawson scream…” I closed my eyes, Rawson's cries of terror and pain were forever etched in my mind. “Somehow, the warden can control Rawson’s mind. He takes him into a living nightmare; one that leaves injuries and marks all over his body; the warden doesn’t even have to touch his victims.” I snapped my fingers. “He just wills it and it happens.”
“What?” Her eyes widened even more, her voice merely a whisper.
“He is—something, I don’t know—otherworldly. He can cause damage to a person and inflict pain without even lifting a finger.”
“Bloody hell.” Ember rubbed her upper arms with her hands.
“Yeah, but that isn’t all they do to get me to toe the line. I am Prime, but I’m also the alpha of this pack and they know how much I value my brothers.” I closed my eyes, searching for the bond with each one of my brothers as they moved through the prison. “Though they are more than brothers to me; I would die for any one of them, without regret.”
When I opened my eyes she tilted her head and studied my profile.
“I have bonded with them.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.” Her face flushed and twisted adorably. “So you, er, like men, too?” Her gaze flicked away from mine.
A chuckle escaped me. She really hadn’t been around other shifters. Despite her toughness she was still naive in the ways of her own kind. “No, Firecracker, I am not attracted to males—of any kind.'' I gave into my need to touch her, slipping my hand through her folded arms and entwining my fingers with hers. “As Prime, bonding is something that I can choose to offer to those I completely trust. If they take a little of my blood, and I theirs, it means I can track their shifter spirit. I can even feel their energy, their life force; but if they die, their loss tears at my soul, and weakens me for a time.”
“So why do it? What do you get out of it?”
“If they are lost or I need them, it can help me find them—a tracker of sorts, I suppose. If I tap into their spirit, I can even sense their emotions, but that is a huge invasion of their privacy, so I don't do that lightly.”