“Maya?” I said, stunned. The girl who had attacked me—the one directly responsible for my swollen eye. And once I placed her, I recognized the other girl in the cage, too: one of her friends who had also jumped me. “But—I don’t understand. What’s happening?”
“No one fights on my turf and gets away with it,” said a voice beside me, and I jumped. Scotia stood at my elbow, and without looking at me, she draped a heavy jacket over my shoulders. “You forgot something.”
I let go of Noelle’s hand, trembling as I pulled my arms through the sleeves. The rough fabric was cold, but it was better than the thin jumpsuit alone. “What do you mean? What are they doing up there?”
“It’s our punishment when we’re caught breaking the rules,” said Noelle softly, her eyes rimmed with red as she looked up at Maya and her friend, who now stared at each other as if they were waiting for something. “Only one comes out alive.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You heard her,” said Scotia. “Maya knew the rules, and she thought she could get away with it. Now she has a choice—kill Poppy, or let Poppy kill her.”
Horror filled me from the inside out, and what little I’d eaten churned in my stomach. “You have to stop this,” I said, my voice rising as I looked at Scotia. “Tell the guards to let them go.”
Scotia snorted. “You’re dumber than you look, aren’t you? Even if I had that kind of power, those girls tried to kill you. Mercer was never going to let them off with a warning.”
She nodded at a rooftop on the other side of the cage. Through the bars I noticed Mercer, his hands set on a railing as he gazed down at the girls in the cage. Behind him, I spotted Hannah’s blond braid as she leaned over to speak to someone I couldn’t see.
“You have ten seconds to begin,” boomed Mercer. All traces of friendliness were gone from his voice, and he nodded to the guards below.
They each raised their rifles, but instead of pointing them into the silent crowd, they aimed inside the cage.
“Ten,” began Mercer. “Nine. Eight. Seven...”
Maya began to advance, looking like a cat eyeing an injured bird, while Poppy cowered against the cage. “Please,” she begged. “Maya, please, don’t—”
Her pleas were cut off as Maya pounced and grabbed her hair. I expected the pair to fall to the ground and pummel each other, but instead, with one quick twist, Maya broke Poppy’s neck.
Poppy’s body fell to the ground, her eyes still open and staring directly at me. I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms as my chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. I’d seen death more times than I could count—on the streets of the Heights, the hunting grounds of Elsewhere, the white carpet stained red by Augusta’s blood. But the sickening crack of Poppy’s neck echoed in my head, and all I could see was her empty gaze, the same one that had been in Benjy’s eyes as he’d fallen lifelessly to the floor.
Noelle wrapped her warm arms around me, and at first I thought it was because she needed the comfort. But it wasn’t until I felt the tears freeze on my cheeks that I realized I was the one who was crying.
The crowd was silent as a guard climbed into the cage through a trapdoor and dragged Poppy’s body away. Maya remained in the cage, and as another woman entered—older this time, and a cry of anguish nearby told me that this must have been Darcy—I buried my face in Noelle’s shoulder, refusing to watch.
Maya won all three fights, killing her opponents within seconds of Mercer’s countdown beginning. After the third match, Scotia grunted her approval. “She gave them a painless death,” she said. “Good. Thought she’d play with her food.”
It was only through an act of supreme willpower that I managed to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged, and finally I raised my head. “Is that it?”
Scotia nodded. “Should be. There’s never more than three.”
“What’s going to happen to Maya now?” I said, chancing a glance up into the cage. Maya stood in the center, her shoulders hunched as she breathed heavily, looking like she, too, was about to be sick.
“She’s earned another chance in the general population,” said Scotia. “Might be sent to a different section, considering she went after you, but—”
She stopped suddenly, and beside me, Noelle squeaked. “What’s he doing?”
Mercer stood against the railing at the edge of the rooftop, holding a gun with a scope mounted on top. Hannah stood beside him, her mouth tugged down in a frown, and instantly I understood. But before I could look away, Mercer squeezed the trigger, and a shot rang out.
Hot, wet droplets of red splattered my face and the front of my coat. Noelle’s scream pierced my eardrums, and my brain caught up with what I was seeing just in time to register the hole in the center of Maya’s chest as she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. On the rooftop, Mercer lowered his weapon, and a dark figure appeared at his side.
“Back to your bunks,” ordered Mercer over the sounds of shrieks and sobs. “Curfew begins in ten minutes. Anyone caught outside will be shot on sight.”
“Come on, you two, before he gets trigger-happy,” muttered Scotia, tugging at my elbow. But I didn’t budge. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t so much as blink.
Instead I stared up at the man who stood on the other side of Mercer. In the dying light, his features were nearly impossible to make out, but the way he held himself was unmistakable, and I would have recognized his cold gaze anywhere.
“No one fights on my turf and gets away with it,” said a voice beside me, and I jumped. Scotia stood at my elbow, and without looking at me, she draped a heavy jacket over my shoulders. “You forgot something.”
I let go of Noelle’s hand, trembling as I pulled my arms through the sleeves. The rough fabric was cold, but it was better than the thin jumpsuit alone. “What do you mean? What are they doing up there?”
“It’s our punishment when we’re caught breaking the rules,” said Noelle softly, her eyes rimmed with red as she looked up at Maya and her friend, who now stared at each other as if they were waiting for something. “Only one comes out alive.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You heard her,” said Scotia. “Maya knew the rules, and she thought she could get away with it. Now she has a choice—kill Poppy, or let Poppy kill her.”
Horror filled me from the inside out, and what little I’d eaten churned in my stomach. “You have to stop this,” I said, my voice rising as I looked at Scotia. “Tell the guards to let them go.”
Scotia snorted. “You’re dumber than you look, aren’t you? Even if I had that kind of power, those girls tried to kill you. Mercer was never going to let them off with a warning.”
She nodded at a rooftop on the other side of the cage. Through the bars I noticed Mercer, his hands set on a railing as he gazed down at the girls in the cage. Behind him, I spotted Hannah’s blond braid as she leaned over to speak to someone I couldn’t see.
“You have ten seconds to begin,” boomed Mercer. All traces of friendliness were gone from his voice, and he nodded to the guards below.
They each raised their rifles, but instead of pointing them into the silent crowd, they aimed inside the cage.
“Ten,” began Mercer. “Nine. Eight. Seven...”
Maya began to advance, looking like a cat eyeing an injured bird, while Poppy cowered against the cage. “Please,” she begged. “Maya, please, don’t—”
Her pleas were cut off as Maya pounced and grabbed her hair. I expected the pair to fall to the ground and pummel each other, but instead, with one quick twist, Maya broke Poppy’s neck.
Poppy’s body fell to the ground, her eyes still open and staring directly at me. I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms as my chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. I’d seen death more times than I could count—on the streets of the Heights, the hunting grounds of Elsewhere, the white carpet stained red by Augusta’s blood. But the sickening crack of Poppy’s neck echoed in my head, and all I could see was her empty gaze, the same one that had been in Benjy’s eyes as he’d fallen lifelessly to the floor.
Noelle wrapped her warm arms around me, and at first I thought it was because she needed the comfort. But it wasn’t until I felt the tears freeze on my cheeks that I realized I was the one who was crying.
The crowd was silent as a guard climbed into the cage through a trapdoor and dragged Poppy’s body away. Maya remained in the cage, and as another woman entered—older this time, and a cry of anguish nearby told me that this must have been Darcy—I buried my face in Noelle’s shoulder, refusing to watch.
Maya won all three fights, killing her opponents within seconds of Mercer’s countdown beginning. After the third match, Scotia grunted her approval. “She gave them a painless death,” she said. “Good. Thought she’d play with her food.”
It was only through an act of supreme willpower that I managed to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged, and finally I raised my head. “Is that it?”
Scotia nodded. “Should be. There’s never more than three.”
“What’s going to happen to Maya now?” I said, chancing a glance up into the cage. Maya stood in the center, her shoulders hunched as she breathed heavily, looking like she, too, was about to be sick.
“She’s earned another chance in the general population,” said Scotia. “Might be sent to a different section, considering she went after you, but—”
She stopped suddenly, and beside me, Noelle squeaked. “What’s he doing?”
Mercer stood against the railing at the edge of the rooftop, holding a gun with a scope mounted on top. Hannah stood beside him, her mouth tugged down in a frown, and instantly I understood. But before I could look away, Mercer squeezed the trigger, and a shot rang out.
Hot, wet droplets of red splattered my face and the front of my coat. Noelle’s scream pierced my eardrums, and my brain caught up with what I was seeing just in time to register the hole in the center of Maya’s chest as she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. On the rooftop, Mercer lowered his weapon, and a dark figure appeared at his side.
“Back to your bunks,” ordered Mercer over the sounds of shrieks and sobs. “Curfew begins in ten minutes. Anyone caught outside will be shot on sight.”
“Come on, you two, before he gets trigger-happy,” muttered Scotia, tugging at my elbow. But I didn’t budge. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t so much as blink.
Instead I stared up at the man who stood on the other side of Mercer. In the dying light, his features were nearly impossible to make out, but the way he held himself was unmistakable, and I would have recognized his cold gaze anywhere.
