Chapter Fifteen, Danika
The drive back from Diamond Grove had been long and punishing.
My body ached from hours spent gripping the wheel, the night blurring into an endless stretch of dark roads, dim headlights, and the incessant screaming in my head that things were taking too long.
By the time I finally pulled into the driveway of my cabin, the soft streaks of early morning were making my dry eyes burn.
I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, my head resting against the back of the seat. All I wanted was to sleep for the next century, but I didn’t know if I could. The drive home had only filled me with more thoughts and ideas; my calm was long gone.
With a groan, I dragged myself out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind me. The warm morning air slid over my skin as I crossed the driveway and climbed the front steps, my boots scuffing faintly against the porch.
The cabin was quiet when I slipped inside. My footsteps were soft against the hardwood floors as I made my way into the living room.
A small part of me wanted to stick to my earlier thoughts. To find my girl and wake her up in the best sort of way. But Gio and Heaven were sprawled together on the couch, fast asleep. Looking far too comfy for me to want to disturb them.
Heaven was curled against Gio’s chest, her blue hair a tangled mess spilling across his shoulder.
One of her hands was tucked under her cheek, the other resting lightly on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Gio’s arm was wrapped protectively around her, his dark hair messy and his face slack with sleep.
They both looked completely at peace, like the weight of the world had finally eased off their shoulders, if only for a little while.
The sight stopped me in my tracks, purely because of how it made me feel. Like I was happy. Even when I had never really understood what happiness was.
I let out a long breath and dropped my bag by the door, running a hand through my hair as I stepped closer. They hadn’t even bothered to grab a blanket, though Heaven was wearing one of Gio’s sweatshirts, the sleeves hanging loosely past her fingertips.
For a moment, I just stood there, watching them. The soft planes of their faces, the steady rise and fall of their breathing filling the room with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in weeks.
I didn’t want to disturb them, but the exhaustion pulling at me was too heavy to ignore. I hadn’t slept in over a day, and my body was screaming for rest.
I hesitated, then finally let myself move toward the couch after quickly swapping clothes into a pair of shorts on a clean washing pile.
There was just enough space on Gio’s other side, and I lowered myself carefully onto the cushions, trying not to jostle them too much.
The couch was soft, and the moment I leaned back, the tension in my shoulders began to ease.
I stretched my legs out as much as the space allowed, shifting until I found a position that didn’t make me want to throw my back out.
My little slice of paradise stirred slightly, letting out a soft, sleepy murmur before settling back against Gio’s chest. He didn’t even twitch, his arm tightening reflexively around her.
I smirked faintly, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. They were ridiculous, both of them. Always so dramatic and bickering when they were awake, but like this…
Like this, they just made sense. They stopped doing anything but holding each other, and showing me just how much they cared.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the room seep into my skin. My head lolled against the back of the couch, my body growing heavier with each passing second. Sleep tugged at me like an anchor, pulling me down, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t fight it.
I let myself drift, surrounded by their warmth, their steadiness, their quiet presence.
And just like that, I was home.
So it was rather odd that I was asleep for almost a single moment before the nightmares started.
The concrete room was cold enough to seep into my bones, the chill gnawing at my bare feet and crawling up my spine.
The tank top and sweats they’d given us were threadbare, doing little to ward off the icy bite of the air.
Hunger twisted sharp and relentless in my gut, a constant reminder of how long it had been since they’d last let us eat.
I’d been allowed a meal for my birthday.
But that had been at least a week ago now.
Maybe more. The ache in my legs from endless hours of waiting compounded my exhaustion, making the shaking in my hands harder to control.
Danika stood across from me, her back straight, her dark eyes locked on mine.
Her eyes were hollow. Cold. Endless. She didn’t look scared—not the way I felt—but I could see the tension in her frame, the way her fingers twitched against the knife she held.
Her ebon hair hung in damp strands around her ghostly face, slick with sweat from the unrelenting games we played.
She wasn’t my enemy. Not really. But she might as well have been in here, regardless of the fact that she was barely two years older, at sixteen, and a good foot shorter than me.
Behind her, the one-way glass wall stretched across the room like a silent accusation.
We couldn’t see them, but we didn’t need to.
They were always there, always watching.
I could feel their eyes through the cameras mounted in the corners, could almost hear the scribble of notes or the exchange of clipped words as they monitored our every move.
A crackle sounded through the speaker on the wall, and the tension in the air tightened like a noose. Static filled the silence for an agonizing moment before the voice came through. Cold. Detached.
“Begin.”
That single word hit me like a physical blow.
My fingers tightened around the knife—a dull-edged thing with a weight that felt too heavy in my exhausted grip.
Across from me, Danika shifted into a fighting stance, her blade glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Her eyes narrowed, calculating everything far faster than I had.
I didn’t want to do this. Neither did she. But we didn’t have a choice. We never did.
Danika moved first. She lunged, the blade flashing toward my ribs.
I twisted at the last second, her knife grazing my side and leaving a shallow cut that burned like fire.
The scent of blood hit my nose, and my stomach churned.
My instincts took over, and I retaliated with a wild swing aimed at her shoulder.
She ducked, her counterstrike coming in low. I barely managed to sidestep, my pulse pounding in my ears as her blade sliced through the air where my thigh had been moments ago.
The first blow was always the hardest. After that, the fear dulled, replaced by something colder. Sharper.
Survival.
“More,” the voice barked from the speaker, startling me into an even tighter grip on the knife. My knuckles ached from the pressure, but I didn’t let go. “Fight harder.”
Danika didn’t hesitate. She pressed forward, her strikes quick and precise, her movements calculated to keep me on the defensive.
I blocked one blow, then another, the clash of metal against metal ringing out in the otherwise silent room.
Each hit sent vibrations up my arms, the dull ache making my fingers tremble.
I swung toward her midsection, a desperate move meant to create space between us, but she danced out of range, her movements fluid and effortless. My frustration grew with every failed attempt, every second that ticked by, with neither of us gaining the upper hand.
Then, without warning, the music started.
It wasn’t music—not really. It was noise. Screeching, high-pitched, and unbearable, blasting from the hidden speakers with a force that made my teeth ache. It drilled into my skull, splintering my focus and sending a wave of nausea rolling through me.
I saw Danika flinch, her brows knitting together as the sound hit her too, but she recovered quickly. She always did. Long gone were the days that she cried or felt sick at the sight of blood.
Long gone were the days she acted like a human and not a toy.
Her blade darted out, nicking my arm and leaving a thin line of red in its wake. I hissed, stumbling back a step, but she didn’t let up. She was relentless.
We fought in a brutal, desperate rhythm, the music making every movement harder, every breath a struggle.
Blood slicked my side where her earlier strike had landed, the warmth of it trickling down my skin in a slow, steady stream.
A matching cut on her thigh dripped steadily onto the floor, leaving smudges of red against the cold gray concrete.
Then the timer appeared.
Bright red numbers projected onto the wall behind her.
Three minutes.
Danika’s gaze flicked to it for a split second before snapping back to me. Her jaw clenched, her grip on the knife tightening. She knew what that timer meant. So did I.
If there weren’t a winner by the time it hit zero, we’d both lose. And losing wasn’t an option.
She lunged again, faster this time, her blade aimed at my throat.
I ducked, slamming my shoulder into her chest and shoving her back a step.
She staggered but didn’t fall, her knife slashing upward in a vicious arc that grazed my forearm.
Pain flared hot, but I barely registered it.
Adrenaline burned through me, drowning out everything else.
The numbers ticked down.
Two minutes.
Danika fought dirty. She always had. Her foot lashed out, catching me in the knee, then right between my thighs. Pain exploded through me, doubling me over and sending the knife clattering from my grasp. Before I could recover, her knee came up hard into my ribs, knocking the wind from my lungs.