"Where did you go?" she asked again, softer this time.
"Persico wanted to see me."
The color drained from her face. Her hands curled into the thin blanket beneath her like she needed something to hold onto.
"What did he want?"
I moved to the small basin in the corner and turned on the water. It came out lukewarm and rust-tinged, but it was enough. I held my hands under the stream and watched the blood from my palms swirl down the drain—dark red mixing with brown water, disappearing into the pipes.
Behind me, I heard Merrilee shift on the bed. Felt her watching me.
"Ahrick." Her voice was steadier now. Firmer. "What did Persico want?"
I dried my hands on the threadbare towel hanging beside the basin and turned to face her. The rage was still there—still burning hot in my chest, still making my muscles tremble with the need to hit something, break something, kill something—but I had it locked down now. Controlled.
Barely.
I crossed the room and sat down next to her on the bed. Close enough that our thighs touched.
For a moment, I hesitated. Then I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. Her skin was warm. Soft. Real.
"He knows," I said quietly. "About the fact that I'm not... using you the way a normal fighter would use a prize."
Her breath hitched again. I felt her fingers tighten on mine.
"He said if I don't start treating you like a prize—if he doesn't see evidence that you're being properly used—he'll take you back."
The words hung in the air between us. I forced myself to continue.
"He'll give you to Hewes."
Merrilee's whole body went rigid beside me. I felt the way every muscle locked up, the way her breathing stopped, the how her hand went cold in mine.
"He said—" My voice came out rough, angry. The rage was bleeding through despite my effort to contain it. "He said Hewes has plans for you. Creative plans. The kind that involve a lot of screaming."
"What do we do?" Her hand started trembling in mine. Small, involuntary shakes that radiated up her arm.
"Persico wants evidence," I continued, my voice dropping lower. "Proof that you're being used. He wants me to treat you like every other fighter treats their prizes—like property to be broken and enjoyed."
The trembling in her hand spread to her whole body now. I saw it—the way her shoulders shook, the way her chest rose and fell too fast, the way her free hand gripped the blanket so hard her knuckles went white.
I turned to look at her and found her staring at the floor, her eyes wide and unfocused, her face pale as death.
"Merrilee—"
"We have to kill him." Her voice was barely a whisper. "We have to find Hewes and kill him before Persico can give me back."
"Yes."
She looked up at me then, and what I saw in her eyes made my chest constrict. Not just fear. Not just desperation.
Determination.
Fierce, burning, absolute determination.
"You've been searching for a way to get to him," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Roone and I have been working on it," I admitted. "On the days when I'm not in the arena, we've been trying to narrow down his location. Persico's compound is massive—three levels above ground, two below. Hundreds of rooms. Hewes could be anywhere."
