As I’m pulled from the cell, I narrow my eyes at the old woman who turned on me at the very last minute. I know she probably just wanted to survive another day, to not be the one called to fight today, but her callousness has ruined everything. That one decision to call me out might even have changed the course of the future of the world.

The cell door is slammed shut and I’m dragged, stunned, along the corridor. As I go, my calmness completely disappears. In its place comes a frantic, racing heartbeat, a whirring mind, and palms slick with sweat. It’s all gone wrong. My worst nightmare has been realized.

I’m heading for Arena 3.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Each one of my footsteps echoes as I am prodded along the corridor by the guard. My mind is a frantic blur. It is so dark down here with only the emergency lights to illuminate the path I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. It makes everything stark. I feel like I am walking into hell.

Slaverunners walk ahead of me and behind me. They must have gotten the lowdown on me. They know what I did in Arena 1, how I killed the leader there, and they’re not taking any chances.

The corridor bends, taking me away from the path that leads to freedom, steering me in the opposite direction, toward the jaws of death. I can hear the crowd above stamping their feet, chanting my name. Everyone wants to see me fight, but no one wants to see me survive. They all want to bear witness to my death.

I dig my heels in, my body not letting me move. A slaverunner comes up behind me and kicks me in the small of my back, making me take a stumble forward. I almost lose my footing. Because my hands are bound so tightly, if I fall, there will be nothing I can do to stop myself hitting the floor. I have no choice but to let myself be shoved onward.

Finally, the corridor opens out into a circular room.

“Stand there,” one of the slaverunner says, pointing at the ground.

I can just about make out a metal shape on the floor in the middle of the room. It looks like some kind of trap door.

As I step on it, metal cuffs wrap around each of my boots, sticking me to the ground steadfast.

“What is this?” I ask, frustrated to hear my voice trembling. “What’s happening?”