Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Nina

I stumble backwards, and Reke's claws come so close to scratching me I feel the air move. "What the fuck?!" I trip over my feet, catching myself on the hammock. I grab the blanket that, just moments ago, had been our hideaway, and throw it at Reke. He begins to sidestep, but the fabric catches him across the chest, tangling between his legs.

Is this some sort of act for the cameras?

He leaps on top of me. We hit the ground rolling and slide across the room, me on top of Reke. He bucks, but I hold on, clenching with my knees. I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze.

"Nina. Nina," he begs, his voice hoarse.

I almost let go, revolted by what I'm doing.

It's not like I've strangled anyone before; six months of karate didn't prepare me for this—or for the tsunami of crying convulsing my body. It's much harder than I was expecting, Reke's neck being roped with muscles.

But if we're trying to lure the guards into the room, then this has to look real, and so I let myself fall into the fear always bubbling away just under the surface, always threatening to overwhelm me every time I think about my abduction or the Arena or Venn practically dying.

"Shut up!" I scream. "You tried to kill him. You tried to kill Venn!" Tears blur my vision. I swear I can hear a ringing in my ears, one loud and long sound, like a perpetual bell. The seconds drag by, some of the slowest of my life.

Reke's eyes are wide. He's kicking his legs, trying to throw me off. And for a fleeting moment I genuinely think he fears me.

Or perhaps he's scared for me.

Is there even a difference?

The door slides open. Three Hov guards rush inside, their weapons drawn, and I'm not quite sure what happens next. Reke moves so fast I can hardly track him as he slides out from under me, breaking my hold on his throat as if I'd never been touching him and proving what I already knew—that he was letting me strangle him.

I wonder if it hurt. I doubt there'll be any bruising to show for all my effort.

The first Hov is dead before I've had time to fully comprehend that Reke has broken the guard's neck. The second and final guards fall to the floor a moment later, their weapons not even discharged.

"Shit, Reke!" The adrenaline pumping through my body is making it hard for me to draw breath. My voice is high-pitched. I barely recognize it.

And why am I still crying?! I blow my nose on my sleeve. Disgusting, sure. But who cares? "Reke—" I reach for him. "I didn't mean what I said."

"Fuckwit." Reke doesn't seem to hear me. Instead he's staring down at one of the dead Hov without blinking. "You did well, Nina. He came in here without waiting for more back-up. You must have made him panic."

I let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like another sob. I made myself panic too, and now I can't slow my racing heart, even when I press my fingers to my wrist to count the beats.

Fuckwit. That was the name Reke had called the voice over the loudspeaker.

He's probably known these guards his whole life. They're probably as close to family as anyone ever has been for Reke, without real parents or siblings. They made him. And then they taught him how to kill.

"He was scared the moment we climbed under the blanket, and he couldn't see us." I rub circles over Reke's back, trying to comfort him even as I struggle to control my own feelings.

He blinks, looking up at me.

I open my mouth to ask if he's alright, but we don't have time to ponder the consequences of our actions, or the horrible words that burst out of my mouth in the heat of the moment. "Let's get out of here." I peek around the doorframe, searching for more guards.

He steps around me and into the empty corridor. "Yes. We will collect Vennkor and then we will steal a spaceship."

"Venn." I breathe his name like it's a prayer.

When I'd made the bet with the Ambassador, I didn't know what would happen next. Of course I'd just hoped he'd give me some valuable information that I might be able to use to our advantage.

This, here and now, is more than I'd dreamt. And if we fail— Well, me agreeing to go with the Ambassador will be the least of my worries.

Reke looks left and right.

"Do you know where the storage is? Where do they keep the gladiators in cryostasis?" Both directions seem identical to me. I've no idea from which direction the Ambassador brought me.

"No."

Fuck. "Well, do you know how to get deeper into the space station? The storage area was down an elevator. It was dark, and the lights only came on when they sensed motion."

"Akh … " He wrinkles his nose. "I know where there is an elevator." Holding my hand, Reke turns decisively left, and we run down the corridor. Well, Reke runs. I sort of slip and slide, pulled along by his momentum.

When the alarm starts ringing, it doesn't come as much of a surprise. It's the same mechanical siren wail as on the ship which abducted me, and with my free hand, I clutch at an ear.

Reke rounds a corner and doesn't stop running when he spots another group of Hov guards. There must be close to ten of them, all with their guns drawn. They don't shoot; hopefully they're under order not to kill Reke.

He releases me and leaps into the air, throwing himself at the closest guard. His clawed feet make first contact, slicing through the guard's chest, who falls backward, dead.

Reke doesn't wait long enough for the body to hit the ground before he's leaping toward another three Hov. I see them raise their weapons, the blades extending beyond the barrels of their guns. I see them strike, but they never actually contact Reke.

He's lithe and lethal, in control of his body, down to the smallest movements. He strikes them before they can strike him. Blood splatters the walls. The putrid smell of rotten meat fills the air as a fog-like gas is released from each of the pustules Reke's claws pop.

I gag, clamping my hands over my mouth and nose, and hold my breath until my lungs ache and my head swims. Then, as suddenly as it began, everything falls quiet, leaving Reke crouched among a pile of bodies, a mess upon the previously perfectly smooth, perfectly white floors. Even most of the gas has evaporated and most of the stench along with it.

I roll up the legs of my jeans in a futile attempt to keep them clean and walk through the puddle of blood. If I'd studied basically any other profession, I'd probably have fainted by now. Instead, I just feel a kind of shaky exhaustion, as if I left most of my emotions back in Reke's bedroom.

Strangely, all the blood doesn't make the floors more slippery; I don't think it's possible for them to be more slippery than they already are. Rather, it acts like glue, helping me keep my footing, for all that it feels disgusting as it squelches between my bare toes.

Gaining a little confidence, I speed up, hurrying to catch up to Reke. He's crouching low to the ground, and there's green skin caught under his claws.

And— Oh God, I definitely overestimated how well I was coping with this. Bile fills my mouth.

"Nina?"

I can barely hear him over the alarm. His pupils expand from narrow slits to full circles until there's almost none of the blue or gold of his irises visible. His ears lie flat on the top of his head, and he looks suddenly so unsure of himself, as if he's sensed my revulsion and panic and has taken the burden of my emotions onto his own shoulders.

"I'm fine," I shout, pulling at the hem of my sweater, like I'm trying to reassure myself that the blood on the ground and splattering the walls isn't mine.

"Nina?" He clearly doesn't believe me, and he stands, reaching for me. Seeing his hands, his claws filthy, he quickly snatches them back.

"No." I grab his hands, clasping them in both of mine. I can't let Reke take on all the burden of the death and destruction. "I'm not fine," I say, trusting his superior hearing. "But I will be."

To prove my point, I wrestle a gun from a dead guard, resolutely ignoring the pop of his suction-cup-like hand as it releases.

The gun is heavier than I'd been expecting, and my finger automatically finds the trigger, even though I've never held a weapon before. When I practice pulling the trigger, nothing happens. I press it again and again. Still nothing happens, like it's smart enough to recognize I'm not Hov.

"Fuck that." I toss it away, and we turn to leave.

That's when a sliding door closes right in front of us, blocking our path forward.

We spin around, but another door closes at the other end of the corridor, trapping us here with the dead Hov.

"No! No, no, no." I run desperate hands over the closest door, searching for a release mechanism, even though I know I won't find one.

Reke digs his claws into the narrow gap between the door and wall and pulls with all his strength. I grab him around his waist, pulling too, but my feet struggle to find a firm grip on the floor, even as they are, all covered in sticky blood. The door shudders, but it doesn't open.

"Fuck." I slip, landing on my ass with a jolt that makes my teeth ache.

We're sitting ducks, trapped here between two doors.

I spy a camera in the wall directly opposite me and imagine Hov guards crammed into a control room, watching Reke's increasingly desperate efforts to break the door seal designed to survive the extreme pressure of outer space.

We've got no chance. I know it. The Hov know it.

The Ambassador knows it.

"Fuck you!" I point straight at the camera. "You're fucking cowards, hiding behind your cameras and your doors. I bet if you came out here and faced us, Reke would kill you all!" I can hardly hear myself over the alarm; I just have to hope the CCTV system can distinguish my voice from the incessant wailing of their alarm system.

Ungainly, I scramble to my feet, bringing my face closer to the camera, an idea niggling at the back of my mind. "I bet you're too scared to open the doors because you know that if you do, Reke and I will find Venn. I bet the three of us will escape!" The idea is half-formed. Less than half-formed if I'm being honest, just a jumble of facts gathered over the days since my abduction from things people have told me, all of which I'm trying to cram together to form some semblance of a plan.

"How many of your patrons will bet against Reke and I escaping? How many patrons will make the bet that we can't break free?" I spread my arms wide in a give me all you've got sort of way. "Offer up the odds. Broadcast us live. I dare you."