Page 122 of Kill Feed

Amani nods. “Once we reached the forest, we were safely inside the circle, but we kept away from the other people.”

“Which,” Lucas starts with an awkward laugh at an attempt at a joke that doesn’t land, “is apparently the only smart decision I’ve made tonight.”

I scoff at that. They’re lucky not to have had another run-in with hunters. Amani looks like she can throw a punch if needed. As for Lucas, when I hit him that one night at his house, he completely crumbled, leaving her to defend him. So, he better pull himself the fuck together.

“Did he tell you everything?”

Amani glances toward Lucas, then back at me, followed by a slow nod. “He told me everything he knows.”

Both of them seem steadier than an hour ago. At least on the surface. Adrenaline is doing most of the heavy lifting, but the tethering nerves are still present. Lucas hasn’t stopped scratching at the back of his neck and arm since we arrived, rubbing the skin raw before dropping and immediately finding its way back.

Amani can’t seem to stand still either. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, folds her arms, unfolds them, then hugs herself again.

Without thinking, I revert to my own unshakeable habit of rubbing over the scar on the side of my neck.

“Why are we all just standing here?” she adds, eyes flicking over the sea of bodies. I leave the conversation at that and allow myself to look around properly.

Most of the contestants look exactly how I’d expect—exhausted, shaken, and excited. Which I find mildly amusing. Because from what I’ve been told, every single person standing here chose this.

A loud burst of laughter cuts across the clearing, grabbing my attention immediately. Near the building stands a group of people clustered together. One man is at the center of it. He’s tall with dark copper hair and darker eyes. He looks about the same age as me, maybe even older.

The man points toward a girl sitting on the ground with her head buried in her hands. The group bursts out laughing. One of the women leans closer to him and whispers something, causing his grin to widen before pointing toward a skinny guy pacing near the tree line.

I watch them for another few seconds before realizing. I turn back to face my own group, who are still nervously fidgeting. “Stop that.”

“W-What?” Lucas retorts.

“The scratching and fidgeting,” I state, “the both of you.”

His hand immediately freezes at the back of his neck, and Amani snarls, eyes flaring momentarily, “Seriously? We can’t just switch off our emotions like you.”

Her voice rises. “We’re literally in the middle of a survival game—” I step forward and cover her mouth, causing her eyes to flare even wider.

Lucas nearly chokes. “What are you doing?”

I don’t look at either of them. Instead, my attention stays fixed on the group near the building. They’re busy with their own conversation now, attention elsewhere.

I lower my hand.

Amani sucks in a breath, clearly preparing to lose her mind, but before she can, I lean slightly closer.

“Lower. Your. Voice.”

Something in my tone must get through because she stops.

I keep my voice barely above a whisper as I continue, “Look around.” Both of them do.

They take in the environment. I see the alliances forming, and so do they, before our attention trails towards the cocky group with their leader keeping his head high.

“See them?” I ask. “Those people are looking for weaknesses.”

“They look comfortable,” Lucas mutters.

“Exactly.”

“Why are they laughing like that?” Amani asks, nervousness threading through her voice.

“They’re entertained and scoping the competition right now,” I say quietly, “ and a few of the contestants here look like they’re about to have a breakdown.”