I’d put my dick before my strength; now I was as much Master’s toy as 152. I had given him my pride. I had nothing left.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, but the sound of light quick feet approaching my cell pulled my attention to the door. My chest constricted when 152 appeared. A guard opened the door, then slammed it in her wake.

Her blue eyes were huge as she watched me sitting in the floor. Rather than be glad that she’d survived, it only fueled the fire in my blood.

Nervously, she stepped closer, then began to bend down to where I sat. Before she could, I threw my Kindjals across the cell, the noise thundering on the floor. She flinched and staggered back. Meeting her gaze to show her how much I wanted her gone, I snapped, “Get in the corner and out of my fucking sight.”

I heard her suck in a deep breath. A stab of some unknown feeling rumbled around my stomach. I pushed it aside when she scurried past me and crouched down. I felt her watchful gaze, but I didn’t look her way. My skin felt on fire, my muscles twitching in agitation. The air in the cell seemed too thick, too hot. I fought to draw in a simple breath.

Movement outside my cell door caused my head to turn. A guard let in a chiri, who had arrived to stitch my wounds. She carried a bowl of water in her hands, the needles and threads in a small bag hanging from a string around her fingers.

The chiri bent to work on my wounds. I pulled my arm away when she tried to clean off the blood. “Get off,” I hissed. “I’ll do it myself.”

The chiri bowed her head at my harshness and immediately got to her feet. She rocked from side to side like she didn’t know what to do. I looked up and saw her eyes widen as she stared at the stone floor. Her face was pale, and when I looked to her clasped hands at her waist, they were trembling.

140’s words about all of us in this pit played on my mind. About where we all came from. About how we all do what Master says without question. All the chiri wore the tattoo 000. I didn’t even know her name. I don’t even know my own …

“Leave them here,” I said, less harshly this time. “I’ll fix it myself.”

The chiri turned for the door, and I saw her shoulders slump in relief. She was scared of me. I risked a quick glance to 152 in the corner. She was huddled down, her body facing toward the wall.

She was scared of me, too.

For the first time since becoming the Arziani Pit Bull, Master’s cold and ruthless champion, it unsettled me. Everyone was scared of me. Even the guards never came too close to the cell for fear I’d snap their necks. It was a well-founded fear, I’d done it to them many times before. Opponents had even pissed themselves when I’d run into the pit from the darkness of the tunnel. Everyone stayed clear. It was something I’d ensured was the case.

667 had told me that we—all under Master’s rule—were the same. We had to protect one another.

I had only ever taken care of myself.

The clanging of the cell door shutting echoed off the stone walls. And then we were in silence. My head fell back against the cold wall and I closed my eyes, simply breathing.

I wanted to black out. Just fall asleep and wake up with 152 gone and my life back to how it had always been. I felt the lines crease on my forehead when I thought about my life before the past couple of weeks. It was the same thing every day: wake, eat, be injected, train. Then on match days, kill. It was an endless cycle.

A hole caved in the pit of my stomach. 140 had told me the privilege we got from being champions was being free from the drugs. We could think. Think for ourselves. For so much of my life I had no memory of how I had lived, of how I was taken.

I didn’t even know my name.

Once I was off the drugs and moved into these quarters, I quickly fell into my routine. But now 140 had implanted a seed inside my head—one of free thought. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my cut arms and legs. I saw the blood washing over my stomach, drying over my identity tattoo.

901. I was 901, nothing more, nothing less. I was Arziani’s Pit Bull. The most efficient and successful killer the Blood Pit had ever known. I wondered if I was ever something more. If I was freed from this place, could I be more? The squeeze of my chest told me I was and I could.

I tried to envision what the world was like aboveground. I couldn’t. My only memory of being out there was when the Wraiths had taken me. When they had arrived in the night and taken me from my bed.

There was nothing else.

I thought of the thousands of investors. I thought of the spectators that sat in the crowd at the matches. They were not from the pit. They were from outside. They had lives. They were free.

So why weren’t we? Why wasn’t I?

The skin began twitching around my wounds. I knew I had no choice but to tend to them. If I was to be okay for the tournament, I had to seal the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected.

Taking the bag off the floor, I ripped it open, the thread already hanging through the needle. Holding out my arm, I picked up the needle and brought it to my first wound. I didn’t even flinch as the needle punctured my skin. I was used to more than this level of pain. Though I grunted when I reached halfway. I couldn’t reach the top of the wound at this angle.

Dropping my arm, I sighed. My jaw clenched in frustration.

“Why?” My head snapped to the corner of the cell at the soft question coming from 152.

As I met her blue eyes, her cheeks flushed. Her arms were wrapped around her bent legs. Bent legs that were tucked as close as possible to her chest.

My eyes narrowed, not knowing what she meant. Seeing my confusion, she swallowed then explained, “Why did you do it?” She glanced away, then added, “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

I shifted on the floor. Then a pain hit my chest so hard, I thought it might cave in. She sounded so sad, so defeated. I couldn’t stand it. The red line over the front of her neck caught my eye. I realized just how close the guard had been from slitting it open. When my attention dropped back to her face, she was staring at me. I couldn’t understand her expression, but I noticed how beautiful she was.

So damn beautiful.

The metal bracelet on her wrist reflected the light hanging from the wall. As my vision became lost in my thoughts, I said, “I couldn’t see him kill you.”

There was a long pause. “But why? I don’t understand. You … you don’t want me.” Her head fell forward, her dark hair shielding her face. I thought she had stopped speaking, but then she whispered, “You should have let me go.”