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I looked at him. Just a moment ago, he’d been a friend, someone I could rely on, and after a few words from an enemy, his allegiances had flipped instantly.
Now I knew there really was no one I could rely on — except myself. Me and Lily, always.
I grabbed the blaster from Frana’s hand and hurried across the office.
I opened the door gingerly and peered behind it in case more of his goons were on their way.
The factory secretary lay slumped forward on her desk — the same way her boss was — with a plasma hole burned into her back.
I checked for her pulse but found none. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She was innocent in all this.
Like Lily was.
Ikmal prison. A riot. I never thought it would happen.
Hurried footsteps raced up the steps toward the office.
I turned and ran in another direction. I reached for my communicator and dialed in the number. My plan was a go, I told my contacts, and they’d better come through for me, or else they would be next on my list of names to take.
Lily, I thought, reaching out for my fated mate. Hold on, stay safe, I’m coming…
29
LILY
PRESENT DAY
I never found out how Ohara could be so sure that I would never be chosen as a Prize ever again.
Maybe it was because of my lack of effort, my despondency after my time with him. No Champion wanted to spend time with a drip who sucked the life out of what was meant to be their victory.
Even if they had chosen me, it would have been like making love to a lump of wood. Why choose me when they could have one of the other, perkier, and far more willing Prizes?
And so, they did.
As a Prize, I should have been tossed onto the slag heap a long time ago. Much like Gpidod, my first and only real friend among the Prizes. She, like many other Prizes, had fallen out of favor with the Champions over the years.
Within months, they were shipped off, never to be seen or heard from again, likely incinerated or buried on some distant moon, or diced into pieces and blasted into the eternity of space.
The Prize Pool was a much colder and hopeless place without her. But I, for whatever reason, remained. I became the unofficial “madam” of the Prizes, a kind of mother figure to watch over the new recruits.
The Supervisor likely didn’t have me discarded like the other Prizes because I was still serving a purpose.
I was still of value.
I helped the other Prizes, warned them of ever falling in love with the inmates. My advice often fell on deaf ears.
Any thoughts of Ohara only brought sadness. That sadness decayed into anger. And that anger morphed into hate. The memory of him had turned into poison in my veins.
And yet, I still thought about him. I thought about him all the time.
It was always with love and affection, which I immediately doused and tore into tiny fragments until there wasn’t a piece of that happiness remaining.
Our time together had been short, but it was strong. Sometimes a single moment could change your entire life.
A knock came at my tiny office door. It was Erishia, a young pholidician who hadn’t yet been Claimed.
I did my best to keep her away from the Prize Pool but it was only a matter of time before she would take her turn.
