159. On Your Mark
159
On Your Mark
W illow
Since my first morning waking up in prison, it’s taken an extra few moments for my brain to come online. I have to think, then remind myself where I am… and why. Today, the first thing I do is pay attention to my body. I feel like shit.
Then I remember The Game , the challenge, the snakes, and the bite.
My lids fly open and I look around. I’m lying on the ground, cuddled by two massive forms. I’m sure they would have preferred to sleep on the bed in the tent TGN provided, but they heard me yesterday when I said I wanted to sleep here. I was afraid someone would tamper with the car.
Frankly, as bent as Zedd was on disqualifying our team, if someone booby-trapped our car, my money would be on the TGN staff as opposed to our competitors. Luckily, my guys listened to my concerns. Here we are on this filthy, uncomfortable floor.
My jaw hurts where I was bitten, but worse than that, I feel sluggish and I’m having trouble focusing. Nothing like feeling subpar on the most important day of your life.
Braveheart stirs, then rolls on his side. When his citrine gaze swings to mine and he sees my eyes are open, I feel relief fly through him.
I was so worried about you, Willow. You had a tough night. How are you feeling? He slides his knuckles gently down my cheek, careful to avoid the throbbing wound on my jaw.
Not my best day.
I consider telling him how much I love him, how scared I was that I was going to sentence him and Valor to death. But I don’t. We need to focus on the race.
We’re down to eight teams. I say, pointedly not asking who was eliminated last night. We can win this.
I sense Valor waking up behind me and am not surprised when he shifts his position and surrounds my waist with his muscular arm. He finger-combs my hair with his other hand while we review our strategy.
We’re up, checking over the car when the drones wake everyone and call us to breakfast.
Bring me back something, I tell them. I’m not leaving her.
Her?
The car. They’re always feminine.
They both shrug, then hurry outside, promising to bring me back some food.
Braveheart
I didn’t argue with Willow, didn’t offer to stand watch over the vehicle. She’s taken ownership of this challenge. She would have refused me, anyway.
We’ve barely sat down before Zedd’s face fills the screens. Although she’s on the planet, she’s not here. I heard her complaining to her makeup artist last night during every commercial break. She says it’s too hot and sandy out here. Try fighting for your life, Zedd. That makes it even more uncomfortable.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome to this last challenge on The Game, Down to Three . As we all know, only one team will emerge victorious. We’ve narrowed it down to eight teams.”
I scarf down breakfast and fix a plate for Willow as Zedd shows footage of all the remaining teams. Gronk’s baby blue team is still in the running. As is emerald, white, black, orange, purple, and gray. The midnight blue team was eliminated by Zedd last night.
Other than Gronk, I have no animosity toward any of these people. They’ve done nothing other than try to stay alive, as have we. I promised myself when I walked out of that cave on Ethos that I wouldn’t kill innocent people.
That was before I had a mate. Someone worth dying for. Someone worth killing for.
I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep the three of us alive, I say to Valor.
Aye. We have a family to protect.
Family. Warmth spikes through my chest at that thought. I’ve never had one before, but he’s right. I have one now.
“We’ve set up a flagpole here at the beginning of the race, and five miles away there is a flagpole in that direction,” Zedd says.
I easily commit to memory the map she shows on the screen.
“Our contestants will make three complete circuits. The first car to cross the finish line with all three team members alive will win the race. Simple.” She smiles and shrugs. “All teams need to line up at the clearly marked red line at the flagpole. We start in five minutes.”