Chapter 26 #2
“Except you.” His hand wrapped around my arm, yanking me back.
“What?” My heart dropped to the ground. Not again. “Why?”
Joska didn’t answer, watching everyone depart the room.
Warwick stopped, noticing Joska’s hold on me.
“I meant you too, Farkas. Go.” Joska sneered, his free hand coming down on my hip.
Warwick pitched forward, his icy glare on Joska. At the same time, three guards moved in his way, holding up their spike batons, guns, and switches.
“Warwick! No!” I screamed at him inside my mind, shaking my head.
He came to a stop, his eyes searching mine, while the sentries hollered and threatened him.
“Whatever you want. Take me instead.” Warwick grunted at Joska.
“Sorry, direct orders.” Joska shrugged maliciously. “But don’t worry, I wouldn’t touch this pussy if you paid me. Contaminated by your kind now.”
Warwick jutted forward again, his lip curling.
Joska pulled out his gun, pointing it at me. “Don’t test me, geci.”
“Go,” I said with my eyes. “I’ll be fine. You will only make this worse.”
“No.” His head did a little jerk to the side.
“Yes. Trust me . . . please.”
He hesitated, but with one more nod from me, he very begrudgingly relented. A snarl hitching his lips, letting the guards guide him out of the room.
“Have your fae-lover potty trained, I see,” Joska hissed in my ear.
“Just like you had Caden. I’m starting to think you aren’t human, Brexley.
I see no other reason why you have all of them wrapped around your finger.
” He shoved me forward. “Guess we’ll see tonight .
. . see what color your blood truly runs. ”
I was right. This place hadn’t even begun to show its cruelty.
Standing here, I was in a sick, twisted nightmare, one I lived before.
Barely.
When Joska and two other guards pulled me down into a dark tunnel, I knew what was happening. The taste of my fear bled into my mouth, the same terror shook my legs, and dread locked my muscles.
Light gleamed through a locked gate at the end, exposing a dirt arena with bench seating reaching up several stories.
Oh gods, no.
Acid retched up my throat, and my body tried to purge the terror from my gut. The emptiness in my belly burned the acid down my esophagus.
No. No. No. This can’t be happening again. I thrashed against the hold on me, but it did nothing as they dragged my body up to the gate.
“Nooooo!” I screamed, trying to fight my guards. Of course, Killian would build it again, but I didn’t even imagine Istvan would use it as it was meant to be.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Kovacs?” Boyd walked up on the other side of the gate, giddy cruelty marking his features. “Don’t you like to play games? Thought you’d be excited to be picked first.”
The instinct to keep fighting, to try to get away, vibrated through my bones, even though I knew I was wasting my energy. This couldn’t be happening again. But it was.
Věrh?za’s new amphitheater was before me, ready for the Games to start.
People were already in the stands, causing a crackle of anticipation and energy to spark the vast space. It was only half-filled now, but over time, that would change with more and more prisoners coming in.
I swayed on my legs, still weak from being in the hole and lack of food. Exactly how they wanted me. The memories of my experience last time, the blood and death—it was almost better going into it playing innocent. To not know what was ahead.
“Welcome to the Games!” Zion boomed from the middle of the pit, his voice bouncing off the walls like a speaker.
His arms were up and brimming with energy, enjoying his role as a performer.
“Get ready for thrilling excitement, blood, death, fame, and glory!” He pumped at each one as if it was the best thing in the world, selling everyone on the idea this was entertainment and not a way for us to murder each other, keeping us from coming together and fighting them.
Sell people on a better life than they have, and they will buy anything.
“For those new to the Games, the rules are simple. Victory is declared on the last person standing.” He circled the arena, taking on the ringmaster role with a flourish.
The arena was larger and more elaborate than Halálház.
I could also see a few fire pits, big enough someone could fall into them, being burned alive as they tried to climb out.
A tally board was up high, ready to declare the winners.
The seats reached even higher, with a special section off to the side, with throne chairs and plush seating.
“The more you win, the more you rise in ranks of infamy. The winners will receive not just extra rations, but dishes like goulash and sweet bread, private showers, and real beds.”
In a few sentences, he caught his prey. Boil down our lives to stew and bread, and they would go willingly in the hopes of it. They didn’t realize most would never survive to taste any of these. It took very little output from them for us to die willingly.
“Does this not excite you?” Zion sang out. “Those who fight in here will be legendary.”
Until the next fight, when your death was all but forgotten.
Zion threw up his arms. Crackles and zings filled the air as small fireworks popped above his head, awing the crowd. I could see it happening, their eyes becoming transfixed on the pretty sparkles, putting them into a trance with the presentation.
Halálház was brutal and cruel, but at least it was bold in it. This was theater, all razzle and dazzle, and sadly it worked on them like a charm.
The throng of inmates started stomping their feet, chanting and yelling. The resonance iced my body, the déjà vú tasting like metal on my tongue.
Movement caught my eye up on the side where the plush seating was, my lungs halting mid-breath. There were several figures, but I only focused on one.
Istvan.
The General stood there overlooking the exhibition and subordinates, with a smug expression on his face.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He was the one who had Caden and me study the Roman Games and learn how the ruler could easily dupe the masses, taking their minds off their horrendous lives by giving them a spectacle.
He understood how simple it was to get the people focused on the superficial while taking more and more from them.
Getting them to fight amongst themselves and not their true enemy.
Give them more show, and they’ll eat it up, asking for more, while you are boldly torturing, murdering, and starving them.
My hands shook, but I tried to steel myself. I had been here before. I survived, and I could again though my lungs fluttered in terror. One of these times, I wouldn’t.
Without thought, my gaze went up into the stands, trying to find him. I couldn’t see him from where I was, but I swear I could feel him watching me, finding me and blasting me with his fury. No sweet sentiment or artificial encouragement.
“You fucking kill,” I swear I could hear him growl in my ear. “You understand me, Kovacs? Whoever they have you fighting. Don’t hesitate for one fucking second. You make it out. Find anything you can use as a weapon.”
Standing behind the gate, I tried to peer around the new area for anything which could be exploited, but nothing stood out except the fire, which could easily be turned against you with one push.
“Let’s bring the first pair to warm you up.” Zion motioned to my gate. Boyd strolled into my eyeline, a gleam in his eyes as he stopped in front of my pen, keys in hand.
“Just like the good ol’ days, am I right?” Boyd smirked, unlocking my pin.
The squeal of the gate shivered up my spine, my heart thumping in my chest, terrified of who was in the tunnel across from mine. Please be a stranger, please be a stranger.
“One of these times, I’m gonna drag your dead body out,” Boyd smirked. “Maybe tonight is my lucky night.”
Samu opened my opponent’s door, a tall willowy shadow stepping out.
My stomach clenched when I saw her. Long, braided dark blonde hair, a gap between her teeth.
“This is a fight . . . To. The. Death!” Zion bellowed, his words ringing in the pit as I stared across . . .
At Zuz.