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My heart sank; I was running out of time, and this guard was my only chance.
Just then, a soft, sultry voice chimed in. “Oh, come on now,” cooed Lila, one of the Prizes known for her beguiling allure and enchanting voice.
She slinked over, her sinuous body moving in a way that seemed to defy the laws of physics.
Her skin shimmered like a thousand tiny jewels, reflecting light in dazzling patterns. “Do a gal a favor, won’t you?” she purred, running a slender finger down the guard’s armored chest.
The guard hesitated, his stoic demeanor faltering for just a moment.
Lila was the most popular Prize in the entire Pool; every male wanted her.
Could she seduce one of the guards too, who were generally like stone?
With a reluctant sigh, he took the note from my hand.
He turned and made his way toward the pits.
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave.
I turned to Lila, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She chuckled softly, her laughter sounding like the tinkling of wind chimes. “If we don’t look out for each other, no one will,” she replied, her tone both mischievous and sincere.
The words resonated with me.
That was precisely how I felt about helping Tix.
We were in this together, and I would do everything in my power to ensure his safety and our freedom.
The sounds of the Prize Pool faded into the background as I allowed myself a moment of hope.
My fingers instinctively touched the spot where the note had been, recalling the sensation of the coarse paper and the urgency with which I had written the message.
I hope he receives the note in time, I whispered to myself, watching the guard disappear into the distance.
The weight of the situation settled upon me, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it was accompanied by a glimmer of hope.
13
TIX
The anteroom echoed with my restless footsteps.
I paced back and forth, trying to shake off the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in the pit of my stomach.
Every step was a heavy thud, resonating with the weight of my thoughts.
The room itself was dimly lit, casting shadows on the far walls that seemed to dance in time with my steps.
The stink of the pits wafted into the anteroom, a poignant reminder of the battle that awaited.
As I ran a hand through my hair, I felt the slickness of sweat coating my palms.
The texture of anxiety, no doubt.
I tried to focus on the gentle hum of the room’s machinery, the slight vibrations under my feet.
Anything to distract from the growing dread.
