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“I know this isn’t what you would’ve wanted—for any of you—but we’re here, and you’ve taken it in your stride. You’ve got a great team, and that’s down to you and your abilities. You can take this all the way. I know you can.”
It’s bittersweet hearing these words from him. Six weeks ago, they’d have meant everything to me, probably buoyed me up. Now, though, I don’t need the support from him. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ve got unwavering, selfless support from the people inside this hotel room, and I just want to get back to them.
“Is that it?” He raises his brow, surprise only slightly hiding his annoyance, but he nods anyway. “I’ll see you down there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Harlow
Okay, so now it feels much more real. It’s like make-believe when we’re training with the guys on our team or traveling with just us, but as we walk into the arena, my stomach feels like a thousand butterflies have taken up residence. I’m glad we have to stay somewhere separate, because I don’t think I’d be able to breathe properly for the whole week if not. The arena is set up with a large podium in the middle, screens above it to show those farther back what they’re missing. It’s not what I expected, even with the intel from Nico. It’s swish and modern, like somewhere you’d go for a technology summit or something. Not what you’d picture for a battle for the underground.
Nico isn’t with us as we make our way to the Sentinels’ section, the pale blue piping bright against the navy seats. Slipping into the crowd, we choose three empty seats, blending in with the others. Hopefully. I watch Nico on the ground level, talking with his uncle and his father, along with some kind of official. Nico looks tense and agitated, but he has done for a while, and it’s understandable. There’s only been a handful of times since he found out that I was going to enter The Games alone where he seemed anything close to calm.
This is the culmination of many sleepless nights, many more arguments, weeks of training, months of preparing, and so much sacrifice. One week stands between us and normalcy, whether we win or lose. I was naive to think Nico would be free from his responsibilities after these Games, that that would be it. Of course it wouldn’t. His father will keep him there either way; to train for the next ones to actually win, or to help him rule the underworld. That’s why this week is so much more than just win or lose. It’s Nico’s future. Our future.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts, eyes on Nico as he makes his way around to different people, looking so capable and detached, that I don’t even notice the arena has filled up until the lights dim and he takes a seat at the bottom of our section, the screens in the middle showing the gentleman taking center stage.
“Hello all,” he says confidently into the microphone, “and welcome to The Games.” Applause erupts around the room, and I have to work to keep my face from curdling. How are people so happy about this? He waits for it to quieten again before continuing.
“As you all know, there have been some changes this time around. We now know who you all have entered, and on the morning of each round, you will be assigned a random group to pick who will be competing in that round. But the ruling council has one last surprise for you all...” Murmurs ripple around the room, but the speakers broadcast his voice to every corner, loud and confident.
“Only one participant from each group will partake in each round. Each one will be ranked after the round, and the group with the most points at the end will be crowned the winners.”
He carries on discussing the benefits and prestige that comes with winning, but I zone out. One participant? One of those was always going to be me. The guys are right—there’s no way they see a woman in the midst and don’t pick her thinking she’ll be easier to beat than the men. But now it’ll be me on my own. So what kind of trials will there be, and which one will I get? Can I even function under that kind of pressure? My breaths become shallow as I start to spiral, but suddenly, the large screens flash with a blinding white light, which grabs my attention. After a second, the Guards logo appears on the screen, and it runs through who is in their team. This seems like unnecessary theatrics, but the arena is lapping it up, reactions coming en masse as faces and names flash up on the screen. It starts with men in suits and runs through all fifty potential participants. I don’t bother to remember any as none stick out to me, and it’s not like I’d ever be included in the decision on who to choose, even if I could remember them.
The chatter gets louder as it moves on to the Sentinels, always second, not allowing me any time to gather my scattered thoughts. Whether that’s because they’re the big competition or because I’m sitting amongst them that it feels that way, I’m not sure. I see Nico’s father and Nico’s uncle on the screen, sitting in the leaders’ area, looking just as formidable as they do in their office. Then Nico is there, and it’s strange to see the dead look in his eyes, amplified on the big screen. It runs through tutors I recognize and ones I don’t, then starts on the participants.
Ezra and Sawyer appear, looking like models for the uniform more than anything, but I know how useful they will be. Then my own face looks back at me, and I couldn’t look more unassuming if I tried. There’s a shocked murmur from those who haven’t noticed me already and a scattering of wolf whistles. My guys tense either side of me, and Sawyer subtly grabs my hand, but it’s not like we can fight the whole damn room.
Another group, the Defenders, come up next, and the images blur in front of my eyes, one indistinguishable man to another. That is, until a face I recognize looms down at me, larger than life.
“What the fuck,” I hear Sawyer murmur next to me, just as I’m thinking the exact same thing. I turn to the crowd as though I can pick him out for some kind of explanation, because this guy isn’t indistinguishable—it’s Lee, my best friend’s partner.
My brain is still whirring over the revelation, wondering what on earth he could be doing with the Defenders when there’s one word groaned from next to me—“No.”
I look up in time to see Ezra on the screen again, except it’s not Ezra—Ezra has never smirked with malice like that. It also can’t be Ezra because this one is on the Defenders team... and the name below says Eli.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, clutching Ezra’s hand in mine. We’re only an hour into The Games, and already, we’re being blindsided with surprises.
The room goes dark again before the man comes back up on the screen.
“Now you know who your opponents might be. I hope you’re ready.”
Then the screen goes back to The Games logo, and the lights come up, applause thundering around the room as he leaves the podium. The council and the team leaders exit the room swiftly, and Nico is in front of us within seconds.
“Did you know?” he asks Ezra, who glares back at him.
“Of course I didn’t.”
“What could he know that could work against us?” he demands.
“This isn’t the place to have this conversation,” Sawyer reminds them, and Nico nods, turning to lead us down the stairs, but Ezra grabs his arm to stop him.
“This changes nothing,” Ezra says. “They’re still our opponents, and I’ll still do everything I can to protect my girl—to protect us. The plan stays the same; nothing changes.”
Nico pulls his arm from Ezra’s grasp and turns his gaze to me, followed by Ezra, then Sawyer. They look to me for guidance; for confirmation on whether we continue with our original plan or figure out a new one. The fate of the entire city hangs in the balance, and these men are placing their trust in my hands. I only hope their faith in me isn’t misplaced.
