Page 39 of Run of Ruin

Gone.

He knew why I campaigned for this. Knew why I fought so hard to be chosen. I always knew I’d have to watch my own back in the Run, but when they called his name, out of nearly ten thousand…I felt real fear for the first time.

And now… he’s gone.

“Whoa, shit! Are you hurt?” a voice called from the edge of the clearing.

I froze. My head jerked up.

Thorne.

Jogging toward me. Alive.

I dropped my pack, sprinted to him, and threw my arms around his shoulders. Relief crashed into me like a tidal wave.

“I thought you– how did you…” I looked over my shoulder, to the place I’d seen the body fall. “I thought you were dead,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Hey,” Thorne murmured, holding me close, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay, sis.”

I pulled back just slightly, enough to speak. “Someone didn’t make it. Their chute didn’t open right. They landed just over there. I thought it was you.”

“Shit,” Thorne said, turning to look. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

A new, sharper fear hit me.

What if it was Brexlyn Hollis? The captivating clever girl from Canyon.

No, no, she hadn’t been called yet. It had to be someone from Ironclad. It had to be.

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. Reminding myself that he was alive. He was okay. He was with me. We packed up my chute, stuffed it into the pack, and started walking, toward the place where someone had fallen. Toward whoever hadn’t been as lucky.

It took us about ten minutes to reach the place where I’d seen the Challenger fall. The path was easy to trace, snapped branches, scuffed bark, a trail of destruction carved through the trees.

A tangled chute hung like a ghost in the canopy, trailing down through the limbs. Below, half-buried in a pile of broken branches and leaves, a leg jutted out at an unnatural angle.

Thorne let out a low sigh and took a step forward, but I caught his shoulder, stopping him.

We could see there was a body. What we couldn’t see from where we stood was their face, and I didn’t want Praxis to see it either.

I couldn’t stomach the thought of them using the footagefrom my camera to splash this death across the screens, turning it into entertainment. The first casualty of the Run.

I switched my camera off. The red recording light blinked out.

Thorne didn’t say a word. He just reached up and did the same.

Only when both lights were dark did we step forward.

It was the chosen Challenger from Ironclad, Dominic Shallow. I’d spoken to him briefly at the ball the night before. He had a wife and a kid waiting for him back home. He told me he was scared.

I was good at getting people to open up, to feel safe around me. He’d confided that he didn’t care about winning or bringing home resources for his Collective, he just wanted to survive. To make it back to them.

My throat tightened, and tears blurred my vision again. At that moment, I was grateful for it. It softened the image of the broken body in front of me.

I stepped forward, and Thorne instinctively moved with me. Together, we gently pulled Dominic from the wreckage of twisted branches and splintered wood, laying him on a patch of even ground.

Thorne slid Dominic’s pack from his back, while I climbed up and tore the chute from the branches. We spread it out and draped it over him like a shroud. When he was finally covered, I turned my camera back on. I only got four hours of uninterrupted time a day.

At least now, his family wouldn’t have to see the pain frozen on his face.

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