Page 251 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

It’s obvious the Exots aren’t here yet, which I’m grateful for: I’ve never seen one of them up close and personal—I’m still reeling from the ones I saw in person for the first time a week ago from inside the limo—and in a moment’s time, that’s exactly how it’ll be. And I’m completely unprepared.

Will they speak to us or just lop off our heads the first chance they get?

Watching this on television each year—as is non-negotiable for the citizens of Techta, unless they’re those of Techtis watching in person—doesn’t let you sneak a peek into an Exot’s head to study their thought processes. And though they’re always violent, no two are the same. Hopefully, they’re just a little tamer this year.

I can hardly make out the spectators from the centre of the arena where the fifty of us Evots pause and spread out into a clustered group rather than a single line—they’re so far away.

Or maybe it’s because the room is spinning as I stand on my unstable feet?

Before I can decide, the crowd’s hollers and whistles and cheers increasing alerts me to the fact it’s no longer just us in the arena.

They’re here.

The back of my neck prickles.

Coming from a doorway that’s appeared in the wall beneath the stands directly opposite us, they stride into the arena single file the same as we did. With so much distance between us and them, I can’t see much more than hazy red-embellished figures closing in on us. But that doesn’t stop the sheer terror from rampaging underneath my skin, urging me to flee.

My heart could crack a rib at this rate.

Counting down from ten in my head over and over again while the ruby glows get nearer and nearer . . . clearer and clearer . . . I force myself to stay put.

And then they’re standing before us.

As the large group spreads out like we did, I stand as stiff as a board, focusing on Tiger and Scotty’s presence beside me, reminding myself I have support now that I never thought I would in this Game—in this lifetime, even. I flit my eyes over the Exots’ faces behind there clear visors, unable to stare too long for fear of dismemberment due to putting a target on my back if my gaze is interpreted as too brave or challenging. I take in the younger and older faces from sixteen to twenty-five, reminding myself that they’re just like us, forced into this world of brutality way too young.

It was far easier to do when they weren’t standing fifteen feet away.

Gulping audibly, I move my eyes elsewhere, taking them on another tour around The Dome . . . which is when I realise I can’t spot any cameras.

But I know they’re there.

There weren’t any visible ones in the training room where the first live was recorded either. But you can feel their eyes on you, watching your every move and sharing each of your breaths with the entire world.

No technology is impossible in 4057, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out there’s a camera floating right by my head at this exact moment, undetectable to the naked eye.

Before I can think more on what or where they could be, an amplified voice booms through the arena, bouncing across each surface in an endless echo:

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the eleventh Bonding Games!”

The Dome screams its approval.

There’s no apparent source of the words, but we all know the Showmaster is safely up there in that black box with the other Techtis Council members.

I wonder if they’re scared the Exots would chew them up like dog toys, too, if they were to show themselves.

“I feel humbled to be back again this year to introduce you to Game 1: The Bondings!”

“Sure he does,” Tiger mutters sassily to my left, and I feel a small spike of amusement beneath all the suffocating dread.

“But first, let us welcome our Champion!”

Every single muscle in my body locks up.

I exchange a wide-eyed look with Tiger, but I could swear there’s a sparkle of excitement in his, while mine is just pure, unadulterated terror.

The gathered Exots part down the middle like the red sea.

Some sort of choked noise leaves my mouth.