Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

to the web where there's enough space between the strands for us to pass through in single file. As a unit, the rest of my team edges as close to the shifting walls as they dare. They tiptoe to avoid drawing the creature’s attention.

If me sprinting out into the middle of the space while trying to frantically wave my arms isn't going to catch its attention, then walking on the outskirts sure as hell won't distract it from its next meal.

She's a Hybrid. I repeat to myself. She deserves to die. Deep down, she's like everyone else you've ever met. She deserves this. She deserves death.

My lips betray me as I speak, moving with some sort of shame or even guilt, making my limbs heavy and numb. "She helped me, and now we're just gonna leave her to die."

"This is the fucking Oasis Games. This isn't some friendly neighbor help neighbor game. We want our competitors to die, remember?" Marcello says, though his words feel forced and stiff.

Juilliard looks back at us, then up to the girl. He nods his head too. They all look just as guilty as I feel right now. I take a deep breath and all of my mental walls come rising back up with it until I'm just a girl who has to walk through this web and get to the other side. Until a smile cracks over my lips when Noor finally screams.

The Vampire on the other side falls back into the shadows. There's nothing she can do for her friend now as the spider slices a long-hooked claw over her gut and all her organs fall to the ground with a wet slap.

Her blood makes the smell of copper thick in the air, even to my faint Human senses. I breathe it in. Death is a part of my everyday life, why should I balk at this one? She might have helped me to help herself, but Marcello's right, I don't owe her a thing. Her death only pushes me to victory.

Most of the team has made its way through the strands of the web, only me and Marcello at my back left. I touch the rope expecting it to be sticky, to catch against my skin and threaten to hold me there against my will. It isn't. Not at all.

I trace a finger over it quickly before ducking underneath. Smooth as silk, strong as a chain link, and I know that if I run my hand over it in just the right way it would cut me like a blade.

Another splatter of the werewolf's body is tossed to the ground. I look, only to realize she isn't screaming anymore. No, she can’t even possibly still be alive. The entirety of her skin has been stripped from her skeleton, flattened as if it's an old bag that's gotten too much use to hold its structure anymore, in a heap in the dirt.

The flying camera lowers from the spot where it watched Noor die. How much did the audience watch when the spider peeled away the layers of her body? All of it? Blades spin on the camera's back as it follows us into the hall.

I've seen blood and gore. I've played in it before too. Letting someone's death bring me one moment of peace before my days of torment continue. This is different. This is twisted in ways I've never experienced. This is new, and it wipes the numb smile off my face in an instant.

"We did it." Marcello relaxes.

A darkness consumes us as we leave the light of the arena. Before leaving the tunnel, where white light bleeds in, a screen waits for us to walk by where we can see ourselves in a mirror.

"Smile and wave." Marcello pauses, and the roar of cheering carries all the way to where we stand.

I hold my rib cage, unwilling to lift my gaze or let them cheer for what we'd just done. I haven't achieved anything, not yet. So far all I've successfully done is amuse a few thousand Hybrids for an evening. My feet barely stop at the camera before I shuffle forward.

"Someone help stitch me up," I demand.

"Ooh, can I volunteer?" Juilliard speaks up.

"We all know you're the only one who can." Marcello strolls by his friend, following me into the bright light. "He's the one trained as a medic," he adds, before my vision has time to adjust.

Our Safe Haven is as large, if not larger than the warehouses in The Bend's Magic Corner. Here there are no wanna-be-witches with their tonics, powders, or otherwise useless, albeit pretty, rocks. Instead the room is a colorful splash of small tents and metal fire pits. Along the side of the room the floor has been dug out, leaving a long strip for a flowing bit of water to run through, like a stream.

Noor's teammates trudge through the room talking. Only the one girl who had stood waiting for some desperate way to rescue her friend lags behind. Mavi’s team is here too. Gloating around one of the fire pits, which doesn't surprise me in the least. They could care less that Davison is dead. Each of their faces is still splattered with his blood they've yet to bother washing off.

That makes me more furious at the way they had played him. At the very least they could show some respect, they wouldn't be here without him. If only it was Mavi who had been given to the Criosphinx instead.

As if he heard his name in my thoughts, his green gaze locks on mine. His eyes drag down my battered body, stopping on my mud-covered sock feet before he gives me the slightest smirk. His slender fingers push back his blonde hair. The small grin on his face disappears altogether when he turns his attention to Marcello.

"Ah, team Windsor! Has