I didn’t need to look at them to feel their eyes on me. As I stepped into the dorms, the buzz of whispers silenced the moment I crossed the threshold. The walls of this place had been like a cage for too long, but now, they seemed to hold something far more dangerous. Me. Alive. And they were staring at the girl they thought was dead.
Jessy’s voice broke through the heavy silence, sharp and theatrical, laced with something almost desperate. “No one has ever survived that. It’s impossible.” She couldn’t help but try to make me a spectacle, couldn’t help but reveal the truth: she’d assumed I was finished, a casualty of her carefully laid plans.
I didn’t look at her. Didn’t spare her a glance. Her words fell on deaf ears as I walked toward the common area. No one dared speak after that, not with the weight of my presence filling the room like smoke.
I shoved my hand into my pocket absently, feeling a crumpled piece of paper there. The paper was a little damp from my time in the forest, but I unfolded it carefully. The note was simple, the handwriting neat and clean, and yet it sent a cold ripple through me.
**Next Challenge, the Ring of Blood. Be prepared.**
**From: A fan who has your best interest at heart.**
Who had slipped this into my pocket? I didn’t know, but the words stirred something in me-an unfamiliar, dangerous curiosity. I’d made a name for myself, but now there was someone else in the shadows, watching. The idea that someone had watched me survive and was interested enough to warn me made me feel something close to… power. A game was afoot, and I was only beginning to understand the stakes.
I stuffed the note back into my pocket and headed for the showers, too tired and too annoyed to care about anything else. The heat of the water felt good on my sore muscles, but the steam only made my mind wander, pulling me deeper into my thoughts. I didn’t let myself linger on the near-death experience too much anymore; I’d let the forest do its worst. Jessy’s betrayal had stripped away the last of any illusions I had left about her. About anyone here. We each were fighting for the same thing. The real game here was making us think we were friends, allies, family. Only then did I get stabbed. Now, I was in a different place, and that place had no room for weakness.
When I emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel, the room was quieter than I expected. All the girls were standing in clusters, whispering among themselves, but the moment I stepped out, every last one of them fell silent. Their eyes-wide, startled, like they were looking at a ghost-followed my every move. I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to explain myself. I wasn’t here for their questions or their fears. I was here to survive.
In the far corner of the room stood a woman-someone I didn’t recognize. She wasn’t moving with the others, watching me as though she had all the time in the world. There was something in her gaze, something deep, but it didn’t make me feel seen. It made me feel… hunted.
The girls didn’t wait to ask questions. They gathered around me, their voices overlapping, each one eager to know how I had survived. How I had come back from the brink of death. They wanted the secret, wanted to know how they could keep Jessy’s poison from touching them too. As if I cared. As if I had the answer they wanted.
I looked at them, disinterested. “I didn’t survive for you,” I said coldly. “I survived for me.” And with that, I shoved past them, ignoring the sharp breaths they took, the uncertain murmurs of concern that followed in my wake.
I wasn’t here to make friends. I wasn’t here to teach them anything.
I made my way to my bed, not caring about the small crowd still murmuring behind me. The moment I pulled my clothes on, I felt a flicker of energy-something new stirring in my gut. The note, the mysterious warning, had planted a seed, and now it was growing. Whoever had written it-whether friend or foe-had given me something. Not hope. Not compassion. But a challenge.
As I lay down, my eyes caught Malia and Jessy across the room, standing near the entrance, engaged in whispered conversation. Their eyes were wide, their posture stiff. They were afraid. Afraid of me, of what I was capable of now that I had returned.
I didn’t look away. I let them feel it. The coldness in my stare, the hollow detachment that had taken over in the wake of everything I’d endured. Let them fear me. Let them feel that creeping doubt, the knowledge that I was a different person now-darker, sharper, more dangerous.
I pulled my blade out of its hiding place beneath my pillow, feeling the cool metal in my hand. Holding it felt natural, familiar. I gripped the handle tightly, letting the weight of it remind me that I was in control. I was the one who had survived. And I would never let anyone forget it.
I closed my eyes, but the sound of the others talking, the distant murmur of their voices, kept me awake. I let myself drift into a restless sleep, my hand still clutching the blade, my mind racing with thoughts of what would come next.
***
The next morning, I was jolted awake by the sharp knock of the royal guard at the door. His voice rang out, clear and loud, slicing through the fog of my slumber.
“Get up!” he barked, not waiting for a response. “Today’s challenge will have a live audience. It will be filmed for national TV. Alpha Roman himself will be watching.”
At the mention of Alpha Roman’s name, I sat up straight. The alpha-the man whose presence had filled every room I’d entered in the past, whose eyes had always seemed to haunt me from the shadows. Now, I would fight, and he would watch. The thought of it was both intimidating and exhilarating.
The guard’s voice continued, almost drowned out by the sudden rush of adrenaline that had sparked in my veins.
“Additionally,” he went on, “the annual masquerade ball will be happening again in two weeks. Be prepared. The competition will be fierce.”
He didn’t wait for any response. With a sharp turn, he left the room, his boots echoing down the hallway.
I didn’t need to be told twice. The game had begun, and now it was all about survival.
The girls and I were escorted out into a large open area, a kind of ring I hadn’t seen before. The air was thick with the anticipation of the challenge, the crowd murmuring in excitement. I glanced around, noting the stares from the other recruits. They were sizing each other up, watching with predatory eyes. It was the same look that people always had before a battle. Some were nervous; some were eager. But I saw it-the hunger in their eyes. Everyone was waiting for the first sign of weakness.
As we lined up, a familiar face brushed past me-too close. I glanced at her, surprised. She was the woman who had been watching me the night before, the one who hadn’t moved with the others. She didn’t look at me directly; instead, she whispered something low and urgent as she passed.
“Be careful,” she said. Her tone was like a warning, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. She was gone before I could respond, leaving only the lingering feeling of being watched.
I turned my attention back to Malia and Jessy. They were still standing together, their faces pale, their eyes darting from side to side. The fear was written all over them. They knew this wasn’t just another competition. This was a battle, and they were unprepared.
I set my gaze on them, narrowing my eyes. This wasn’t the time for hesitation. This wasn’t the time to worry about who you’d step on. I knew the truth now: survival was about being the last one standing, no matter the cost.
The announcer, Alpha Roman’s Beta, stepped onto the podium, his voice booming through the air.
“Welcome to the Ring of Blood,” he called, and the crowd roared in response. “Today, we begin the first fight for new contestants to prove their worth. For the older contestants, this will be the challenge to prove you deserve to stay in the trials.”
My heart beat faster as he continued.
“The rules are simple: You will fight hand-to-hand, stripped of any weapons. The ring is 300 square feet. 64 contestants enter, but only 60 will leave. Only the strongest will survive. BEGIN!”
The crowd’s roar echoed in my ears, but I didn’t hear it. All I could see were the other competitors, the way they watched each other, sizing each other up with sharp, hungry eyes. I felt the blood in my veins go cold. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was survival.
The air hummed with tension. The sound of fists and feet moving toward the center of the ring filled my ears. I took a breath. Let the challenge begin.
And as the bell rang, I knew-this time, there would be no mercy. The ring would be soaked in blood before it was over. My blood, or theirs.