No debate.
Just that same understanding that’s been building between us through every challenge, every fight, every moment that forced us to choose each other.
We move.
Together.
Not toward the finish line.
Not toward victory.
Toward the one thing that matters.
Our son.
CHAPTER 34
BRON
The moment Tilda saysdaycare, something in my chest locks into place so hard it feels like a physical click.
Everything else falls away.
The arena.
The cameras.
The screaming crowd.
The prize money.
None of it matters.
Only one thing does.
Jesse.
“Stay behind me,” I tell her, already moving.
She doesn’t argue, which is how I know she’s just as scared as I am.
We sprint across broken terrain, boots pounding over fractured steel and churned dirt, weaving through debris and fleeing contestants. The air is thick with dust and the acrid bite of burning circuitry, each breath scraping the back of my throat.
Ahead of us, the proto-beast tears through another section of the arena wall.
It’s closer to the compound now.
Too close.
The ground shakes with every step it takes, each impact sending ripples through the arena floor like a drumbeat of destruction.
“Tilda,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop behind a half-collapsed barrier.
“What—”
“Go.”
Her eyes flash. “No.”
