I look down at myself, noting the crusted blood around my knees and down my tibia. With everything going on, the pain was the least of my concerns. But now that I'm reminded of it, it suddenly flares up, causing me to wince in discomfort. My lip, too, is tender and stiff, more blood likely dried around my chin.

"I'm good." I force a smile—or what should look like one considering my lips hurt too much to move.

Without warning, I find myself being lifted up. I release a yelp of surprise, instinctively scrambling to get away.

"Stop moving, human," Ze growls low in my ear. "We're going back," he declares, already moving toward our accommodation. Cer and Thea share a look, but they don't say anything, simply following suit.

The crowd of onlookers parts to allow us to move, all the while staring at Ze with a mix of awe and fear. Their eyes follow him around as they wonder who or what he is. As we leave the crowd behind, it dawns on me that staff members were around as well, all watching but not intervening. I guess this really is a matter of survival of the fittest. If the game doesn't kill you...the other contestants will.

Ze kicks the door of our suite open, heading straight for Thea's and my room. He steps inside the room and stops, turning his head sharply to Thea and Cer, who are right behind him.

"Out," he commands.

They blink in surprise, but they don't contest Ze's edict. He shuts the door in their faces before he stalks over to my bed and places me down.

"Uhm... What are you doing?" I ask, my brows creasing as I regard his grave expression.

"You're hurt," he states, his gaze lingering on my lips. Clearing his throat, he looks around the room, nodding to himself as he grabs Thea's sheet and rips it in half.

"That's Thea's sheet. You can't just..." I hiss, my eyes wide.

He pins me with his icy eyes, his glare shutting me up immediately.

I mumble a few profanities under my breath that he decides to ignore—although I'm sure he can hear them well enough.

He rips the sheet into four strips of cloth. At first, I think he's just going to help me dress the wounds. But he surprises me when he goes back to the door and wrenches it open. He comes face to face with Thea, who's holding a jug of water in her arms. He grabs it from her hands, then closes the door in her face—again.

"You said you'd be nicer. That's being the opposite of nice," I point out.

He doesn't answer, his face expressionless as he wets the cloth.

"Did you hear me? You're being rude."

"I am nice to you," he replies, exasperated.

"Well, it's not enough. You can't be nice just to one person."