Chapter 3

3

THUREL

" H ey!" Someone calls out from somewhere. Flutters of the participant I met earlier strike my mind, together with that nauseous feeling of guilt. If that were me, and someone would have left me to fight on my own, I'd definitely get back at them. But…

"Over here!" He calls out again, not sounding like the other guy at all. Not sounding like anyone I know. Though I can't be sure. At night, all noises are distorted, though its effect on my nerve-system is immediate.

I freeze.

For a moment I think the stranger won't see me if I don't move, but when I catch movement in the corner of my eye, I know that won't work. No, I've been found again, though right now I wonder if I'm brave enough to halt and face them.

Normally, I'm not the type who gets scared, yet here I am.

Christ, I'm not even the type who gets noticed in the first place.

You were chosen.

Ever so slowly, I turn my head, and in those scarce breezing seconds all kinds of thoughts pass my mind. Silver Mask. The older man with the cane.

It's a prank, a fucking prank.

"Hi," he says. It's another participant. He's standing on the trail, no further than a few meters from me. I guess he's as surprised as I am to find another person this far out, because he brushes over his equally dark mask as if to check if it's still in place, before taking a measured step toward me.

"Who's your opponent?" He asks.

Plush, wet lips, curled in a wicked grin. I clear my throat. "The guy with the silver mask."

He nods at that. "Rope guy. Haven't seen him."

"Have you seen anyone out here at all?" I ask. Pushing my earlier thoughts away, I decide to play along a little longer. Maybe there's still time to find the perfect hiding spot and just sit this whole thing out.

I mean, time's nearly up anyway, right?

He shakes his head thoughtfully, then narrows his gaze. "I have actually," he says on a second thought. "But only from afar." His voice is thin when he adds, "Bronze mask."

"The one on the horse?" I croak, and he nods before falling into a silence that's filled with both relief and tension.

"I told myself I would make it," he mutters. I can hear his throat click from here as he swallows thickly. "I mean, how hard could it be? And then they send that guy with his golden mask after me." He looks up to face me, his shadowy glower fierce. "I'm going to win tonight."

"I…" I don't know what to say to that.

"But I'm afraid of the darkness," he continues.

Shrugging, I gesture toward the faint lights around us. "It's not that dark here." That's not what he means and we both know it. He doesn't say anything, instead just nods, then presses his lips back into a fine line.

"It's so quiet here. Back home—" He lets out a shudder, then takes a few steps toward me. "I didn't know they would take us to the woods, you know?"

I want to ask him what it is about the forest that freaks him out so much, but only one of us can win tonight. It's best if I don't know anything about this guy. I don't recognize his voice as being someone who's in my year, so that helps. We're strangers. I only think about the other participant for two seconds, the one who got chased down by a crazed rider and his horse, before I shove all thoughts aside.

"Out there, you're on your own."

"I'm going to win tonight," the other participants repeats, then takes another step closer, until he almost bumps my chest with his. His blond hair is swept to the side by the wind, the light strands long enough to be tugged back behind his ear. Just as I think that he wants to fight me for the win, he licks his bottom lip swiftly, then chokes, "He carries a knife, and I don't know if that should turn me on or scare the hell out of me."

"Who?" I clamp my own mouth shut, inwardly cursing myself for my stupid question, both because I know who he's talking about, and because I don't want to know at the same time.

"What would it be like to get railed by a member of the secret brotherhood?" The other participant mumbles. I blink, trying to understand his meaning. He lets out a scoff when he catches me watching. "The walls of Monterrey Castle talk, don't tell me you haven't heard the rumors."

I shrug with lingering thoughts and try to play it cool. Watching me intently, he suddenly sneers, "You're not a first year, are you? Or are you just oblivious?"

Puffing up my chest, I force myself to hold his gaze. "I'm not."

"Not what?" He scoffs, then waves me off, apparently not needing my reply. Something charges the air around us, making it electric with tiny sparks of menace. Of survival. "You know only one of us can win, right?" His dark gaze dips as he seems to size me up. Widening my stance, I fist my hands and clench my jaw. When his slow perusal finally lifts back to my eyes, he nudges his chin forward. "Are you on the football team?"

"That's none of your fucking business," I growl.

"You're a prickly one, aren't you?" He snarls, but the words lack venom. "That's what they like most. They—" The corner of his lips tick up and he opens his mouth, but before he can continue, there's a rustle in the top of the trees. We both look up, just in time to see a group of bats flapping away, squeaking sharply as they do so. My heart leaps up in my throat. Something made them fly away, a brisk movement that got them scared.

Or someone.

Galloping sounds of the horse drift in the background, followed by another of those terrifying howls.

Oh God , that poor guy .

"He's not yet eliminated," the other participant says.

"No?"

"No. He's still being chased down. Golden Mask and his knife are a huge threat, but they're not quite as terrifying as the one swinging that bola ." I think of the sling carrying that stone and shiver. "It's a hunting weapon made from strings to which they attach stone balls they can sling at you to make you fall." The other participant catches my gaze. "It originally comes from South-America."

We have one guy from that continent at college, some fourth-year who always hangs around the popular guys. Realization dawns. Are they?—

"Yeah," he says, as if hearing my thoughts. "It's them . Now you understand why I accepted that invitation."

The table in the center of the canteen. The guys who occupy the top in our ranking system. Wealth, power, ego. Fuck my life. I think of my accidental gaze the other day and the piercing blue eyes that stared me down.

The other participant chortles hoarsely. "Oh, you didn't know? You just went along and accepted a random invitation?" There's a cold challenge in the dark pools of his eyes that makes me cringe inwardly. I want to tell him to fuck off, that he's wrong, but in reality, the truth fucking stings. It's embarrassing. I didn't take the time to check the details, because my treacherous heart was ruffling rhythmically in my chest. Singing and flying and trying to connect to the loved ones I had to break from way too early in my life.

Swallowing thickly, I decide that this is where I should take my losses and let this guy have his victory. It seems like he deserves it—his ego already a great match to those who occupy the heart of the canteen.

Tilting my chin toward a random direction, I murmur, "I suggest that we call this a night, what say you?"

"I suggest you're scared." He cocks his head, and his earlier hesitant appearance has clearly morphed into aloofness and I'm not liking this one single bit. "Already?"

I shrug, trying to play it cool, ignoring this biting feeling that somehow every one of them is against me in this charade of hoods and cloaks. In this fucking chase. "I don't care. I just don't know if this is really what I signed up for."

"Are you even into guys?" He suddenly asks. Now that has me dropping my jaw. His eyes widen, and he lets out a sharp giggle. "No, dude…did you even read the details of that NDA?" Hiding his mockery with the flat side of his hand, he mumbles to himself, "I'm going to fucking win tonight." I think he's right, but right now, my thoughts are in tatters.

Guys have always been…forbidden fruit. I've only been with girls, though I wouldn't really call myself sexually active to begin with. I've always been too busy studying, or playing football with the guys, or just hanging at home.

The other participant gives me a faint smile that lacks any humor. "Do you know what they'll do when they catch you?" He asks slowly.

"They…eliminate you?" I croak, but even to my own, swimming mind, that sounds pretty lame.

He huffs out a mocking snicker. "Oh boy, you really have no clue, right? That too, yeah, sure, they'll eliminate you. After they've fucked you."

"W-what?" A shiver flops vigorously through my stomach as my thoughts flick back to Silver Mask and the way he'd smirked at me. He knew. He fucking knew , with that rope and collar in hands. He had his eyes on his prize. Me . Problem is, he probably thought I knew too.

Bile rises in my throat and I swallow, but it won't go away. It stays there, forming a lump that makes my voice even more gravel. "I really wanted to join this frat, but I think it's too much. This is—" I gesture to our dimly lit surroundings, just as he says,

"Are you saying you don't really want to become a member?" He takes another step forward, and it's like something changes inside of me. Yes, that's exactly what I want to say, but his behavior makes me stand taller and puff my chest out. Something builds up in my gut, spreading further and further until it reaches all the way to my fingertips and down to my toes. And my heart, my heart steadies its beating, and I'm feeling like I'm running in that perfect flow in which I can keep going for hours. I'm not going to let this guy steal the win from me. This guy, who was practically sobbing before about how he was afraid of being in the darkness, this guy who's undoubtedly in way more trouble than I am if he's facing a crazy brother with a knife. That's worse than rope, right?

Right? It's got to be.

"This frat—" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Stop calling them that, they're not some frat house. They're a brotherhood."

I shrug. "What's the difference?"

"Are you even for real, dude?" He jabs a finger against my chest. Ignoring his mockery, I instinctively react, pushing him away with brutal force. He flinches, loses his balance, then snarls. "Let me tell you something. I'm going to fucking enjoy watching you get eliminated, you ignorant prick. I can't believe they'd even consider someone like you as my competition to begin with."

"Fuck you, bro, leave me alone." I give him one last push, then turn and walk away. He doesn't follow, and I hike back to the dense part of the forest, back to the shadows of the trees and thick shrubs. I've barely taken a few steps when I catch the vague sound of people talking. It's hushed, the melody sounding relaxed as if whoever out there is just chatting and having a good time. For the briefest of moments, I feel relieved, wanting to move back to the trail with my figurative white flag, and tell whoever's out there that I'm calling it a night.

"Fuck," the other participant swears, the sound hushed under his breath. It's enough for me to dive away immediately between the shrubs, heart rate picked up in no time. My face feels warm with sweat that tickles my flushed skin from behind the silk and my heart pounds rapidly in my ribcage.

Two Venetian masks have made their appearance out of the darkened forest, and now stand there on the trail, their cloaks fluttering around their legs, their attention solely focused on the other participant. Caught like a deer in headlights, nothing like the arrogant fuck he was just two minutes ago, he swears again.

They smile in return. It's the cruelest smile I've ever seen. They're about to catch him, and they know it. For a second, no one moves. I press myself deeper into the grass as I try to register the colors of their masks. It's too dark to be sure, but the treacherous flutter in my stomach is enough to tell me that Silver Mask is one of them.

He's too close. But right now, I can't escape.

"Help!" The other participant calls out. His gaze is blindly searching for mine through the darkness, and the survivor in me feels like punching the asshole's face for ratting me out like that. My human side feels his invisible, outstretched hand burning through the plants, as if trying to connect with me. I can't believe this is the second time tonight I'm finding myself in this situation. I swallow, the heavy feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach as I start crawling back, no longer caring about smudging my uniform, to create a bigger distance between us. Through the shrubs, I catch sight of the glittery flicker of a knife, and my breath hitches.

I don't see what happens next, but I can hear the other participant sob, can hear him mumble something before he runs away, only to yelp again when he's undoubtedly caught.

"I wanted to win!" He yells shrilly. "I should win! There's another guy out there who hasn't even read the document. He has no clue why he's here!"

Grinding my teeth at those words, I turn around on hands and knees and crawl to the nearest tree, filtering out the sounds around me.

I guess survival brings out the worst in people. He didn't have to betray me like the little shit he is, and I could have stood up for him. Perhaps we could have taken them, together. But then, those are not the rules of this game, right?

I roll myself around the tree, making sure to keep out of sight. And then I lean against it, my back colliding with the cool wood of the trunk, its sensation grounding me. Behind me, sounds are coming from the trail. The other participant is no longer yelling, his voice has dimmed to a breathy whine, accompanied by another, lower voice. No doubt the guy with the golden mask. I can't decipher what he says, but those sounds… I blink into the darkness, trying to close my mind for the echo of slapping skin, followed by more gasps, then moans.

So, he was right.

When you get caught, you get fucked. My chest constricts at the thought and I hate myself for my traitorous body as it heats and grows more rigid in the darkness.

There must have been some rule in that NDA stating that rape is not allowed. My hardening cock throbs in my pants. I think of those full lips and once more, something ignites in my body.

But it wouldn't be rape, would it?

Does it hurt to get fucked?

Deceitful flutters invade my stomach and I snarl at myself, internally dismissing the thought. Not going to happen.

One hour. I can last for one more hour.

I take in a deep breath and concentrate on the way my ribcage expands, needing to feel my nerves and muscles strain with every puff of air that floods through my system.

That means that this guy is now eliminated. I don't know about the other ones, but I'm still here. So for now, let's just assume, that there's one down, two to go.