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She put her nose in the air, fixing a blinding smile on her face that left me speechless for a few long moments. “Let’s show them what a real pair of winners look like.”
This woman might be a fucking demon,I thought, stepping onto the red carpet to a barrage of noise from the reporters.But goddamn if I don’t love it.
“Look over here!”
“Come here, sweetheart! Tell me how it felt to push your friend in front of the Killers so you could run away!”
“Penelope! Has your sister’s body been delivered to your house?”
The screams from the reporters sounded all around us. Clicks and explosions of light—camera flashes—filled the air.
At our feet, the deep red carpet looked too similar to the blood covering our bodies. We waited patiently for our turn, Vic studying the other players with an irritated twitch to her lips, invisible to everyone but me.
It was always like this. People scrambling to get pictures of those who ended up surviving the games. Many of them waited out here all night, streaming different players on multiple screens, so they knew exactly what to ask when they came out. The clips and pictures that came from this walk would be shared for the next year, even longer if a specific winner caught the eye of the public, which meant they were worth their weight in gold.
I‘d been so busy trying to make sure that we survived that I hadn’t even thought about how to prepare for the attention we’d get when we were done.
But Vic? She was made for this.
It was like a bomb went off.
One second, every reporter on the press line was yelling at the other players further down, taking photos, and doing interviews—and the next, we were the center of attention.
A couple reporters literallyscreamedwhen they caught sight of us.
“Mask off,” one of the armed guards standing outside the entrance ordered me.
Biting my tongue, I did as he said, revealing my bruised, bloodied face.
Vic gave my hand a firm squeeze before pulling me along beside her. “I got you,” she swore. “We just gotta get through this and we can go home.”
I nodded, fixing my face into a smile.
“Victoria! One Wolff wasn’t enough for you?”
“Kohl, how does it feel now that there's no competition between you and your brother?”
“Victoria, how’d you get Kohl to roll over like a dog for you? What dirt do you have on them?”
“Victoria, Kohl! Come on, give us ashow! Make Kohl cry for us again!”
“Kohl, have you always been a pathetic little pet?”
Vic’s easy, press-ready smile flipped into a snarl in an instant as she lurched forward. “Say that again,bitch! I dare you!”
I narrowly caught the back of her hoodie to pull her backward.
What we’d done in the arena was risky. We both knew that. Though, I’m not sure either of us fully understood what it would mean. That everyone and their dog would think they were free to degrade me like she did.
Especially not the reporters.
The reporter who’d called me pathetic nearly fell over in surprise, trying to back away from Vic. She snapped her teeth at him.
“Not so fucking brave now, are you? You forget that I don’t need a fucking gun and an arena to—”
“Vic,” I warned her, eyeing the other reporters. “Play hard.”
“Win, win,” she hissed, flipping the cameras her middle finger.
