Page 361 of Hunters and Prey

Bran was suddenly alert too, his attention on his two mercenary friends. They didn’t speak but shared some kind of silent communication that involved a tilt of the chin and a curl of the lip. The other occupant of the unit was a young man who’d barely had a chance to grow any stubble, but he was solidly built, if a little gaunt. He must have been one of the Skins they’d captured a week or so before us. They’d held on to them, probably locked them away somewhere while they gathered the numbers they needed to present us to the public.

Once again, the Bloods filed in. Once again, the doors slid open, and then the Skins were urged to file out of the room.

“Shit.” Jasper punched the air in agitation.

Bran grabbed the bars, his elbows locked as he stared at the empty cage opposite us.

The seconds ticked by. Dante was a silent, hulking figure at the back of the cage. His brow furrowed, he looked deep in thought. Two down. How many more would they take today? There was nothing left to do but wait.

More minutes ticked by—slow, agonizing minutes. Helgi paced the floor, hands on hips. Bran retired to his mattress. I crouched at the back of the cage with a good view of our prison.

It had barely been five minutes when the voice blared again, and this time my heart climbed into my mouth.

“Unit eight, prepare for extraction. Unit eight, prepare for extraction.”

My gaze went to the plaque fixed to our cage, and zoned in on the number there. The number eight.

This was us.

It was our time.

The featureless corridor beyond the cage room sloped upward, indicating that we were on a lower level of this facility. And were we heading in a curve? It felt like a curve. No windows, no doors leading off, just the corridor. Where the heck had the guards come from, then? Had they come back this way from dropping off the other unit, or were these different guards? Why the heck hadn’t I paid attention?

A set of steps appeared, and we were ushered to ascend by the guards at our back prodding us with their firearms. Did they have controls to the collars too? Could they blow off our heads if we resisted? Not worth the risk trying to find out.

A hum filled the air as we climbed, and then we were standing on a platform with another damned cage in front of us. The grill directly opposite us was covered with some kind of material, a sheet of thick plastic or something. The hum morphed into the loud buzz of voices.

“Get in!” The guard behind us shoved Bran, who barreled into me, and we both stumbled into the cage.

The doors slammed shut behind us and then the plastic slid away, leaving us exposed to a hungry crowd of impeccably groomed Bloods. How had I missed the sound, the roars, and the cheers and the buzz? But the applause wasn’t for us. It was for the spectacle taking place below us.

“Motherfucker!” Helgi cursed.

Monsters—huge, sinuous monsters, green and yellow scaled, swung their tails and gnashed their teeth at the Skins who rolled, ducked, and swiped with their puny weapons, trying desperately to stay alive. Ice filled my veins and fire heated my chest.

“Wyverns,” Helgi said in a hushed tone. “They have Wyverns.”

How? How had they gotten hold of these creatures? Creatures that fought for the Dreki. Creatures that were trained and reared to hate Bloods. And why were they attacking Skins? And then the sun glanced off metal and my question was answered. The Wyverns were collared, just like us. They were at the Bloods’ mercy, just like we were. Were the collars preventing them from flying up out of the pit? The air above the pit rippled with a crimson sheen, answering my question.

A barrier of some sort?

It was probably activated when something came in contact with it. I’d heard of such tech. Tech that kept you in an invisible cage, but it required a vast amount of energy. Not an issue for the Dragon Bloods, with their secret power source—a recipe that kept their city lit up and their machines running indefinitely.

Dante was steely jawed, his hands fisted at his sides. He slowly raised his gaze from the pit and fixed it on the crowd bouncing in their cushy seats. His lip curled in derision. I followed his gaze and found Gustov sitting in a box in full view of our prison. My hand itched to smack the haughty expression off the Dragon Blood leader’s face. Beside him was a gray-haired woman. His wife? And to each side of the couple was stationed a guard. Dante tore his gaze away and focused it on the pit.

“Look over there.” Helgi pointed to the smooth, curved wall opposite us. Numbers ticked away, counting down to zero.

Minutes.

This fight for survival was on a timer. Below the clock was a balcony holding two Bloods manning some kind of control panel. Buttons and lights flashed. Wait, could this be how they controlled the Wyverns’ collars?

A Skin in the arena lost his footing and went down. The crowd fell into a hush, holding their breath as one of the two Wyverns stalked toward him.

“Will!” Jasper shook the bars, his eyes wild.

The fallen figure was indeed Will, and he was frozen, staring up at the beast as it drew near. Another figure rushed the Wyvern from the left. It was Dunstan, his sword held high as a battle cry tore from his lips.

The Wyvern didn’t even blink. His tail whipped round and smashed into Dunstan, sending him flying in a tall arc to slam into the arena wall. There was a sickening crack and then Dunstan slid to the ground, landing in a cloud of dirt. He didn’t get back up. This was a man I’d cared about and then despised, and now he was dead, just like that. The arrogant fucking twat was dead. My eyes pricked, and I blinked back the moisture. No. No fucking tears. No time for weakness. Focus on the arena. Grip the bars and don’t you dare fucking cry.

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