Page 144 of Inferno

“We need to figure a way out,” I tell them, met only with blank stares.

Even when I feel like shit, I still have fight left in me.

“Hello? Did you not just go through the same hell I did? This place is fucked up. We need to get out. Did you read the contract?”

I want to bash their stupid heads against the wall.

“None of this is real,” the redhead whispers nervously.

Wait.

The two at the back.

“Shouldn’t you be in the final room? You won the last game. I tapped out.”

A shrug. A look of pure terror. A visible shiver.

“The guards said the games were over and brought us here,” one of them whispers.

Confusion coils in my gut.

“The gunshot was fake. To make you think we were dead. But they didn’t kill us,” Tara says.

“Yet,” I snap.

I’ve dealt with assholes like this my whole life. We’re probably just fucking lab rats now.

“Is that what you want? To be owned like a fucking slave? Because I don’t see them ever letting us out.”

The words hit hard. Property of Decadence. It’s what the contract said.

The contestant from the second room starts crying, bottom lip trembling. I almost feel sorry for her.

Almost.

There’s no room for sympathy. Only survival.

I’m not leaving Isabella behind. Not like this.

“Maybe… it’d be better than living at home.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but her face says everything. Broken. Familiar.

I see myself in her pain.

“Who made you sign the contract?” I ask, taking a step forward.

“My stepdad.”

I swallow the rising lump in my throat as she looks away.

I crouch down beside her. Dignity left the second we stepped through those gates.

“If we work together and get out, we can escape them. Your family. I can make that happen.”

Her hand trembles as she wipes away tears. I clasp it, grounding her.

“We can do this. Just trust me.”

I scan the others. Tara’s face flushes with rage.

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