Page 6 of Run of Ruin

“What’s your name and which Collective are you from?”

So much for that.

I swallowed hard, trying to summon enough spit to make a sound. “Um…” I cleared my throat. “My name is um…Brexlyn… Hollis, but Bex, actually. I’m Bex. I’m from the Canyon Collective.” The words barely made it out. A whisper masquerading as a sentence.

“Oh for the love of….child, the camera’s not going to bite,” Nova snapped from her perch. “Wipe that look off your face and try again.”

I met her eyes for half a second, just long enough to absorb the disdain, then turned back to the camera. “My name is Brexlyn Hollis, and I’m from the Canyon Collective,” I repeated, only a shade more confident.

Nova scoffed, but didn’t interrupt. It must’ve been passable.

Zaffir continued, voice still calm and neutral, asthough the question held no real weight. “Are you proud to represent your Collective in the Reclamation Run?”

The truth sat on the tip of my tongue, burning like ash. Proud? Of course I wasn’t proud. I was being sent to a deadly competition with the hopes that I may manage to earn scraps of basic human necessities for the people I care about?

But they didn’t want that truth in these confessionals. I’ve seen enough episodes of this wicked show to know that they want me to lie, to say I’m honored to have been chosen for such a momentous event, to tell them that Praxis has given me a beautiful opportunity. They want me to be grateful.

But I don’t think I can do that.

“Speak, woman!” Nova screeched, frustration evident in her tone.

“Nova, why don’t you give me a minute to talk to her alone,” Zaffir said gently, his tone careful but firm.

I glanced up at him through the glare of the lights. Past the lens and into his eyes, golden, warm, and sharp all at once. He was watching me closely, like he could see the storm that was raging under my skin.

Nova sighed, loud and theatrical. “Fine,” she muttered, rising with a dramatic roll of her eyes. She sauntered to the built-in bar at the far end of the train car, already pouring herself a glass of something amber and expensive-looking, like she couldn’t possibly be bothered with my nerves a second longer.

Ezra stayed put, still perched in his seat twenty feet back, his unreadable gaze fixed on the spectacle before him.

And then it was just me and Zaffir.

A small red light blinked at the top of the camera. A quiet reminder that it was watching, recording. But Zaffir didn’t stay behind it like he was supposed to. Instead, heslipped around the setup, crouching in front of me until we were eye to eye.

Up close, his eyes looked even warmer, more complex. Golden with flecks that caught the light like the sun through honey. For a moment, I forgot where I was.

“Look,” he said softly, voice barely louder than the hum of the train. “I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want to be here.”

I opened my mouth to argue out of habit, but he raised a hand, stopping me with a gentle shake of his head.

“You don’t need to pretend that’s not the truth,” he said. His gaze didn’t waver. There was something there, just beneath the surface, compassion maybe, or pity. “My job is to get the most interesting content out of you and Ezra. The more screen time you get, the better.”

I nodded. That much I already knew.

Zaffir glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure Nova was still preoccupied at the bar before leaning in a little closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Look it’s no secret…interesting Challengers? They tend to last longer.”

Something in his tone shifted. He wasn’t just giving me advice. He was warning me.

I stared at him, mind racing. I nodded again, slowly this time, as if that would help me make sense of the hundred questions swirling inside me.

“So, there’s a couple ways you could play this,” he said. “You could go the sympathy route. Audiences love a tragic backstory. Pull their heartstrings.”

My thoughts immediately went to Jax, his laugh, his limp, the quiet pain we all pretended not to notice. To Ava and her brother. How much pain and loss she’s been through. My stomach turned. I hated the idea of turning them into a strategy. But if it helped me make it to the medical trial…

I hesitated. “Or…?”

Zaffir gave me a heated look that made my skin prickle. “Or, you make them want you.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Want me?”

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