44
The cameras are set up in such a way that we can see every action from every team, from every angle, but I wish to God I couldn’t.
There’s only one team I’m truly watching, and I can’t take it any longer.
Turning away from the screens, I place a call to Wolf.
“Jag, how fares it, brother?”
“Not well.”
“Go on.”
“I know Falcon forced me onto these Games to punish me. And I know you believe I probably deserve it. But these contests….”
“They’ve become more bloody, more cruel,” he says quietly. “I know. Angie apparently berates Falcon daily for his ultimatum. But what’s done is done. You’re there now, you need to make the best of it.”
“They’re torturing the girls, Inquisition style.”
“As a purveyor and expert at torture, I wouldn’t have thought that would be too difficult for you,” he says dryly. “Just think of it as a history lesson. You never know, you might pick up a skill or two that you’ve forgotten over time.”
“Wolf,” I groan. “I can’t have all these deaths on my conscience. Not after…it’s too much.”
“You haven’t killed anyone,” he grunts. “Have you?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. You entered knowing how the Game is played, and they entered knowing the risks.
They’re participating in contests against one another for your hand, but that’s incidental.
You know there’s only going to be one left standing, and you’ve chosen to leave that to chance rather than choosing for yourself. ”
“Still…”
“Brother, harden your bleeding heart and grow a pair of balls — it’s best to weed out the lambs from the wolves now. You know what it’s like in our world; only the strongest will survive among us. All you can do for the weak ones is show them a great time while they’re still alive.”
“A great time,” I murmur, turning back to the screens and watching as Thorun, bound to a chair, has a soaked rag forced down her throat and water poured in over it, her eyes widening and reflecting her silent scream.