Dawn arrives. Rebecca is the first to wake up, her eyelids heavy. Reese’s arm is draped across her waist, his lips slightly parted, his sleep-rumpled hair falling across his forehead. Rebecca sits up, the sheets wrapped around her chest, her mind a hive, buzzing like crazy. Through the gaps between the curtains, the sky shifts into shades of purple and orange.

  An unexpected finger traces lines along her bare back. Reese has just woken up. He stirs—whether his eyes are open or not, it’s impossible to tell. But when their gazes meet, he gives her a sleepy smile.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Rebecca doesn’t say anything. She just nods. The truth is, she barely slept at all.

  Breakfast sure is awkward that morning. Rebecca and Reese walk past Contestant 24 who shoots glares at Reese, everyone else watching. They sit at their usual table. Reese eats fast and when he’s done, he can’t sit still.

  “You want to go training, don’t you?” Rebecca asks.

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Reese looks at Contestant 24 over his shoulder, whose gaze is still glued on them. “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Don't worry about him. Just go.”

  Honestly, being alone is a bigger relief than being with Reese right now. She doesn’t want to say it out loud—she wouldn’t want to hurt him—but she knows how to go unnoticed when she’s alone. With Reese, that’s impossible.

  Lena interrupts their conversation as she walks up to them. She greets Rebecca with a fleeting, almost apologetic smile before sitting down at their table. When she speaks, her voice is surprisingly low and subdued. “I... I uploaded the video,” she says, her eyes darting between them. “But, you probably already know that.” She appears more composed than yesterday, which is a positive change. “I know it sounded like I was saying that what you two have is... fake. I... I’m sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong.” The apology sounds sincere, but Rebecca is hesitant to accept it so readily.

  Reese rises from his spot and sits beside her. He leans forward, one hand resting on his knee, his sleeve rolled up, veins popping. “It's okay, Lena,” he says softly, his tone unexpectedly conciliatory. But his posture doesn’t loosen. “Do what you have to do.”

  He doesn't elaborate, and Lena's gaze lingers on him, expecting an explanation. When none comes, she adds, “I’d hate it if you two were angry at me.”

  Reese smiles. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” He says. “You have to choose, pink cheeks. Whose approval do you really want? Ours, or theirs?” He gestures toward the camera embedded in the nearest wall. “I don’t think you can have both.”

  “You have both,” Lena replies.

  Her defiance takes Rebecca by surprise. Despite everything she did, and despite being a self-proclaimed fan of Reese’s, she still finds the courage to stand up for herself. Reese raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, Rebecca is reminded of their first interactions—back when she thought he was just an arrogant jerk.

  “Yeah, well... not everyone is me.” He leans closer to Lena. “I think this is a great opportunity for you to prove your loyalty to us.” He stretches, then stands up. “In case we need to count on you.” He turns to Rebecca. “I’m off to training. See you later, yeah?”

  Rebecca nods.

  Lena shoots Rebecca a disoriented look. “What was that about?” she asks.

  Rebecca shrugs, though she knows exactly what he meant. “You know what, I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re mad at me.”

  Lena’s eyes—puffy, watery, red where they should be white—make Rebecca second-guess herself. “Why does it matter?” she finally asks. “Do you want to tell your followers my answer?”

  Without another word, she walks away.

  She doesn’t run into Lena or Reese again until the evening, when everyone is packed into the common room moments before tonight’s battle. Reese joins her in their usual spot, but remains silent after greeting her with a kiss. His eyes are fixed on the screen, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together under his chin, and his right foot tapping incessantly. His entire body tightened. Rebecca knows what’s on his mind. It’s not the battle, it’s his failure to find a way to get her out of this place. With this thought, she wraps her arms around his and rests her head on his shoulder.

  Her gaze falls on Lena, who sits alone in a corner near the holographic screen. Her thumbs fly across her phone’s keyboard, a frown etched on her face. The room's white light illuminates her features as the two expected numbers appear on the screen: Contestant 1 and Contestant 41. A few seats away from Contestant 1, Contestant 24 presses his hands together, looks up at the ceiling, and mouths 'thank you.'

  Suddenly, Reese leans in close to Rebecca. "I’ve got a plan," he says. When he sees her excitement, he shakes his head. "No, not to escape. Not yet.” He clears his throat. “There’s something I need to find out, something that’s been eating at me." He looks at her, a crease forming between his brows. “I’ll need your help.” A pause. Then, he continues with a softer tone. “Actually, the whole thing kinda hangs on you.”

  “What is it?” Rebecca asks.

  He scans her face while pressing his tongue against his inner cheek. "I’ll tell you after the fight, alright? We’ll talk then."

  Rebecca's gaze drifts to the arena, her eyes unfocused as yet another brutal episode begins. All of it, just a blur. The punches, the tactics, the blood—it all plays out in the same pattern, every time. She can't bring herself to focus on the fight.

  "Can you at least tell me what my part is in it?" she asks, looking up at him, her right cheek still resting on his upper arm. "Or what's the thing you want to know?"

  Reese kisses her forehead, a gesture Rebecca notices he uses when his patience is wearing thin or he's trying to regulate a negative emotion. "No, I really don't want to talk about it here."

  Rebecca nuzzles her face against his arm. "Okay."

  Against all odds, Rebecca tries to distract herself from Reese's plan by focusing on the battle. Both contestants possess incredible abilities. Contestant 1 is so fast that cameras struggle to capture him. Contestant 41 isn't as swift, but when he does move, he's silent as a cat or a ninja. He would have triumphed against a contestant with a more modest ability, like her own, but this time it falls short.

  After smashing Contestant 41’s head against the wall beneath the stands repeatedly, Contestant 1 stands victorious, a grim smile playing on his lips. He's a handsome man, Rebecca thinks, but even the respectful way he says goodbye to his fallen counterpart—kneeling on one knee, head bowed, fist pressed to his heart—feels cheap and premeditated. At least contestants 20 and 6 were honest when they celebrated their victories.

  Reese doesn't even wait for the hosts to congratulate the winner or bid farewell to the audience. He grabs Rebecca's hand, his grip tight, and pulls her away from the ecstatic crowd without saying a word. He practically drags her through the corridors.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Once inside, he closes the door and locks it, the theme song of the show fading behind him. Then he turns to Rebecca, eyes steady, unblinking.

  “Have you found anything new?” he asks, his voice low, almost a growl. As he waits for her answer, he rubs his hands together, shifting from one foot to the other.

  Rebecca leans against the door, her breath still ragged from the rush. When she begins to speak, her gaze drops to her feet.

  "No, not really," she says, hiding her hands behind her body. She meets his eyes with a hint of caution. "At least nothing that could help us escape or get the show cancelled, or…" She pauses and takes a deep breath. "Nothing useful."

  Reese nods, slipping a hand into his pocket while with the other rubs his chin. His focus shifts momentarily to a corner of the ceiling, where the air vents murmur softly, before returning to Rebecca. His voice, when it comes, is low and shaken. There’s something he isn’t saying. "Did you find anything about them... monitoring us? Our phones, microphones, messages, calls—anything?" He shortens the distance between them, his focus fully on her now. Every time she looks away, his eyes follow, not letting her break the visual contact.

  Rebecca shakes her head, strands of hair falling across her face from the messy bun. "Nothing concrete,” she says. “At least, no one’s mentioned anything about direct surveillance. But… Why are you asking? I mean, It's impossible they have access to our phones, right?" She realizes she must have taken the wooden bird out of her pocket at some point—now that she’s tracing the smooth surface of its spread wings, almost frantically. “Do you think it’s possible?”

  Reese's eyes narrow as he gently tugs the strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about," he says. "We need to find out for sure. It all depends on it, really." He speaks with a firm voice. Whatever he wants to tell her, his mind’s already made up. "It’s those goddamn helicopters, Rebecca. So freaking weird."

  He steps back to where he started. Then begins pacing the length of the room, like a caged predator trapped in its own rhythm.

  "There's this guy... outside," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've been talking to a few people, actually... I'm making some... arrangements. But this guy owes me a favor. And he knows a bunch of stuff about computers and programming… He’s sending me something tomorrow that’ll help us figure the whole thing out."

  He pauses, casting a glance at the ceiling again before returning to Rebecca.

  "Once I’m sure our phones aren’t cracked—or whatever—if we know it’s clear, then I can start working on something. A way out. For both of us."

  Rebecca's face lights up with the news. She knows nothing is sure yet, but the fact that he's taking this so seriously, the fact that there is a possibility, no matter how remote, fills her heart with hope. She wants to jump and clap and throw herself at his neck but she restrains herself. She doesn't want to burden him with her enthusiasm, and it's not like her to give in to her emotions like that, anyway.

  Instead, she gives him a vigorous nod and asks him, "What do we have to do?"

  Reese sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Rebecca," he begins, his voice lower now, more intimate. He walks up to her again, closing the distance between them. She finds it endearing that he can't stand still for one second. "We need to get to the nurse's office. Remember the initial medical examinations? The computer there... it holds all the contestants' data. With one good look at it, we'll know how much access they have to our phones and stuff."

  He pauses, letting Rebecca grasp the underlying idea, before continuing in a softer tone.

  "The problem is access. Getting there unnoticed... it's almost impossible. The door is locked, I already checked.” He sighs. “Unless..." He trails off, trying to reveal the next part of the plan with delicacy.

  He gestures towards the ventilation grate set high in the wall, a dark, almost indiscernible slit against the pale gray paint. Rebecca's eyes follow his. The thought of squeezing through that narrow space sends a shiver down her spine. The metal fibers woven into her muscles wouldn't help much there.

  Reese reaches out, gently taking her hand, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. "I know it's risky. I know it's tight. But I can’t think of any other way.”

  Rebecca's eyes widen, she tries to take a step back, but the door stops her. "Wait, you want me to get in there?"

  “No.” He says. “I don’t want you to get in there, I fucking hate the idea, Rebecca. But…” He squeezes her hand, offering a silent promise of support. “I won’t leave you alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll guide you. I’ll be right there, outside the vent, listening for anything.”

  He waits, his eyes searching hers, searching for her consent, for her trust. The fate of their escape, of a possible future together, it all falls dependent on Rebecca's decision. Her gaze drifts from the ventilation grate to Reese's face, her eyes welling up with tears of fear.

  “I need your skills, your small frame. Only you can fit."

  He leans closer, the scent of his cologne—a blend of “sandalwood and a sharp, spicy note”, according to the label—both unnerves and emboldens her.

  "I'll guide you," he insists, his fingers tracing the curve of her jawline now. "I'll follow the same path as you, and I'll create a diversion by playing music with a strong percussion and bass line. That way, they won't hear you, and you can navigate by listening to my guitar. I'll be with you every step of the way from my room to the nurse's office."

  He pauses again, his eyes scanning every inch of her face with urgency. "Whenever you're near the cameras, I'll play something loud to cover any sounds you might make."

  Rebecca frowns, visualizing the route. She can picture the cavernous interior of the vents, dark and dusty, with spiders and other insects crawling from corner to corner. The sudden image of a spider drone appearing out of nowhere leaves her terrified; she wouldn't be surprised if it happened, those things are everywhere. What would happen to her then? Would she end up with a laser-drilled hole in her head?

  "It's too horrible," she admits, unable to meet his gaze. "I really don't want to disappoint you, but you're asking too much."

  Reese gives his hair a quick, hasty tousle.

  "I know, I really do. It sucks that it can’t be me doing that part of the job, but I don't fit, Rebecca, and I can't think of any other way to get us into that office." He brushes his fingers across his lips. "Rebecca, I'm sorry. I hate that I'm putting you through this. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. But if we don’t figure out whether they’re watching our phones or not... we’ve got no shot at getting out of here."

  Rebecca bites her lower lip before she speaks. "What if they're listening to us now?"

  Reese places two fingers under Rebecca's chin and lifts her face so her gaze meets his. "Then they'll react, and we'll know what we need to know. Then I'll find a different plan."

  Rebecca knows he'll find an answer for every one of her objections, yet she voices the one that worries her the most. "What if they find me in there and kill me?"

  Reese shakes his head. "They could've done that when we were on the roof, but they just locked us in a cell. It'll be the same this time, I’m one hundred percent sure. If they find you, of course."

  A profound silence falls between them. Rebecca feels a familiar surge of apprehension, the chill of fear creeping along her spine.

  “And the way out?” She asks, fighting the knot in her throat. “What is it?”

  “I don’t have it all figured out, but, here. Look.”

  He searches for something on his phone, then hands it to her. It’s an ad.

  “Ever left your house in a rush and couldn’t remember if you turned off your electronic devices? Want to make sure your kids turn off their phones on time? Or maybe you just can’t find the TV remote? Good news! With Disabler, you can control all your electronics from miles away—all you need is a Wi-Fi connection and our new app. Just $0.99!”

  “What’s this?” Rebecca asks.

  “This is why this programmer owes me big time. He was working for me, then bailed halfway through the project to get his ass exploited by the big guys.” He smiles. “And now it’s gonna be our ticket out of here.

  “How exactly?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But I know he worked on this app”—he waves his phone—“he and his team built it. Imagine having something like this, Rebecca. But more powerful. No legal restrictions, or any other bullshit.” He grins softly. “He already agreed to help me once, I’m pretty sure I can get him to do it again. As many times as I need.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “Don’t you see the possibilities?”

  “Kind of.”

  “You see? I do, too. And I’m telling you, with an app like this, I could get us out of here.” He sighs, then pulls her into a hug. “So? What do you say?”

  In his warm, reassuring arms, she finds a strength that doesn’t feel entirely her own.

  Finally, she says, “Okay, Reese. I’ll do it.” His embrace tightens.

  “We should do it tomorrow night. After the battle." His words tumble out in a rush, as if he's worried she might get disappointed in him for putting her in danger any minute now. "And remember, you can change your mind whenever. It’s up to you, really. I want you to do what you truly want.”

  “If I change my mind I’ll let you know.”

  Sleep seems like an impossible task. Instead, they spend the remaining hours reviewing the layout of the compound, Rebecca etching the route to the nurse's office in her mind, while Reese contacts the programmer guy, the one that owes him a favor, and instructs him to "send the thing" as soon as possible. The next day, she can’t remember at what point she surrendered to sleep.