Page 125
One by one, they pivot toward the center—toward us. The movement so eerily controlled, like some vast creature turning its head to mark its prey. And that’s exactly what we are, which makes them the real predators.
I keep my eyes on them while contestants slowly begin approaching the columns. Some move cautiously. Others practically jog forward, eager to get whatever comes next over with.
Beside me, Leo lets out a long sigh. “I want nothing to do with whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into, Summers. I mean it. Stay away from me during Kill Feed.”
I finally glance at him. Oh, he’s serious; looks like he’s about to pop a vein.
“We’ll talk again later,” I reply, scanning the crowd for Amani and Lucas. Leo closes his eyes, and for a second, I think he might actually punch me. Instead, he huffs sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I just said—”
I don’t stick around to hear the rest.
I weave through the contestants until I reach the far corner where my friends stand. Amani’s face eases with relief the moment she sees me. Lucas, restless and sharp, snaps instead, “Where the hell did you vanish to?”
I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head towards the watches, completely ignoring his concerns. “Got lost.”
They leave it at that, and Lucas—overly eager as always—starts stepping toward the center.
I catch his sleeve to stop him. “Wait. If something goes wrong,” I say, “I'd rather it happen to them first.”
Lucas stares. “...that's actually a good point.”
Amani folds her arms, clutching them tighter, a flash of devastation crossing her face. “I hate that it makes sense.”
After roughly half the room has claimed their watches and nobody spontaneously combusts, I decide the odds are acceptable.
I snatch the nearest watch from its pedestal—cold metal, smooth black screen, nothing remarkable. At least not on the outside. Beside me, Lucas fastens his own, then cuts me a restless glance as if I might run off at any given moment.
I tug the strap tighter around my wrist. “Leo’s here,” I state, eyeing him from the corner of my eye. He’s on the other side of the room, clearly trying his best to keep distance between us.
Silence falls before both their heads snap up. “Wait, what?” Amani blurts, the word breaking out of her like a crack in glass.
Lucas nearly fumbles his watch. Both of them start scanning the room, eyes darting across contestants and corners until they catch him themselves.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” he mutters, voice filled with genuine confusion now. “Did the rules change? Do they just pick people randomly now?”
“No.” I tap the dark screen of my watch, the display flickering to life. “Leo chose to be here.”
Amani stares, and keeps staring. “You’re joking,” she says at last.
“I’m not.”
“There’s no way.” She shakes her head, the denial cutting deep.
The screen finishes loading, and text appears:
ADRIAN SUMMERS
SPONSORS: 0
RANK: UNASSIGNED
Hm, interesting.
“Contestants.” The mechanical woman’s voice returns through the speakers. “The next game will commence soon. Please make your way to the waiting area.”
For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then a mechanical rumble tears through it as another set of doors grind open along the far wall. The gap spills light—not the sterile pink and purple glare we’ve been drowning in—but golden light.
