Page 187 of Powerless

The Resistance.

A man is standing beside my father wearing a black mask and pressing a knife to his throat. There are other members of the Resistance in the box, surrounding the king and queen and Kitt. They are holding them almost lazily, all gripping daggers in their hands though they don’t look like they intend to use them. Which can only mean one thing.

They are Silencers.

Maybe even other Fatals.

Otherwise, my father would have torn their limbs off by now, Kitt would have lit them on fire, and Mother would have helped by electrocuting them if it weren’t for their powers being suppressed or controlled.

I can barely make out their twisted faces, grimacing with the weight of a Fatal’s power crushing them. But I know the agony all too well. The agony of everything you are being suppressed as the very power you possess is stripped away from you. I know that face they are wearing because I’ve worn it many times before.

They are being smothered by Silencers.

And then so am I.

ChapterSixty-One

Paedyn

“Please.”I keep muttering the word, over and over again like it can bring her back to me. Like a prayer, a plea. “Please, please,please.”

I barely hear the cheering crowd over the roaring grief in my head, my heart. I clutch her against me, my forehead resting atop her soft curls. I can still smell the faintest scent of honey on her, sticking to her hair and body. She always smelled like honey. She always smelled like home.

My face feels numb, and I can no longer feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I lift her up gently, cradling her back so I can hold her closer. My blurry eyes snag on her bound hands tucked behind her back, and the sight of them sends a shuddering sob through me.

They broke her fingers.

They are bent at odd angles, bleeding, bruised. Those small and slender hands are mangled, a mockery of what they once were, of what they could do. Before death, the thing that made her feel most alive was taken from her.

Her sewing hands. Her talented fingers.

Broken.

Then they broke her.

A wave of white-hot anger sweeps through me, washing away the guilt and sorrow to replace it with searing rage.

Shebroke her.

Blair.

I’m going to kill her.

I blink down at Adena’s lifeless form. Even in death she is beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking. Just the sight of her so still, so silent, fans my fury, redirecting it towards another murderer.

Hebroke her.

The king.

He brought her here to be killed. Adena is—Adenawas—no criminal. My hatred for him flares. He did this on purpose. He warned me I wouldn’t win these Trials, made sure of it. Not when I had to kill my best friend to do so.

This man has taken everything from me.

This king has killed the only family I’ve ever known. First my father, and now Adena.

Screams from the crowd finally reach my ears, pulling me out of my pathetic state for a moment. I look up to see that the walls of the maze have vanished, leaving me sitting in the center of the sandy Pit.

The other contestants are standing close by, all looking equally confused. The crowd is crazed. Elites are yelling and pointing and—

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