Page 32 of Ash Storm

You cannot be attracted to him.

You’re just feeling … off … because of everything that’s going on.

That’s what it was. She forced herself to breathe, then looked back into the room. Chloe’s hair sparkled in the sunlight. The women must have put something on it.

“I like the style,” Reka said, looking to lighten the mood. “It suits you.”

Chloe’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want to be bought,” she cried out, her voice really soft, so only Reka could hear. “They’ll separate us, Reka.”

“Shhh … We’re not going to let that happen,” Reka whispered back. She prayed she was telling the truth.

Her eyes were drawn back to the window, where her mystery man now had a knife in his hand. His body executed smooth thrusting and slashing movements against an invisible opponent. He moved with unexpected grace for someone so large.

“Those are the fighters,” Anara said.

“Fighters?”

“They will fight until only one remains standing.”

Her thoughts flew to the man in the black T-shirt.

That means he’s here voluntarily.

He’s one of them.

“How do you know all this, Anara?” she asked.

“I overheard the guards talking about it.” She shrugged and started pacing the room. Most of the girls did that. To stop from going crazy, Reka assumed.

She couldn’t help sneaking another look at the man outside. At that same exact moment, he looked up at their window. Their eyes met, and Reka felt the electric current that flowed between them. And though she knew it was crazy—knew this could only be the product of her overwrought, exhausted mind—it was a connection that would not be ignored.

He gave a brief nod, then turned away from her.

Reka staggered back.

Did he just nod at me?

Why?

An hour later, they got more lukewarm tea. Reka promised herself, if she got out of here, she’d never drink another cup of tea for as long as she lived.