𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟏𝟎. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

"I think we should kill him. End his suffering."

"Absolutely not."

"Juneaux—"

"Killing in self-defense is one thing, but he's unarmed and injured."

"Then we should just leave him here to die. The temperature is only going to continue to drop. We need to find shelter."

I could hear the voices actively discussing my fate while I laid there, bleeding and simultaneously freezing. My head was pounding, but much of the rest of my body felt numb. I was too dizzy to think of an escape from my situation, so I continued to lie there, accepting my fate. I barely managed to pry my eyes open. For if I was to die, I would die with dignity, looking my enemy in the eye.

And perhaps it was my delusional state of mind from the blood loss and exhaustion, but I swore there was a golden halo of light surrounding the ginger locks of the angel who spoke on behalf of the gods.

"Fine..." Her tone was bitter as she begrudgingly agreed with the tall, muscled figure beside her. However, her attention was stolen by the small cherub at her side tugging her sleeve. "Harlan?"

"He could've killed Honey and me," the cherub's meek voice added another side to the untold story, swaying the angel's decision. "He let us go. Now, he needs help."

"Juneaux," the blond devil on her shoulder tried to force his reason upon her. "He's a career. If we help him, we'll just be digging our own graves."

The angel turned her head, looking out toward the horizon. "Says who? The gamemakers? Rex... don't you think it's time we play by some of our own rules?"

I didn't remain conscious long enough to hear the final decision. My eyes rolled back inside my head and the world went dark.

I lost track of the time spent dwelling in the dark, and I can't recall when the light came shining through. However, this light burned like fire and seared the edge of my soul. It felt as if my consciousness was torn between a battle of tug-o-war, briefly touching the icy tendrils of death and the scorching mists of life.

Like two sides of a coin, flipping back and forth. Once landing on the head of the wolf then switching to the Latin inscription veni, vidi, vici. Those words had been inscribed on every crest of my family home, a motto instilled to prove our worth. And now that scratched out phrase rested immortal on the back of Atticus's gifted coin. The coin that weighed heavily in the pocket of my cargo pants as a threat to prove myself worthy of the Lovera name.

It was laughable really, that a parent would send their own child off to war. Because either they were willing to let that weak child die... or if the strength of a survivor was apparent, that child was mangled for glory and fortune. And if I did not claim the role of champion, they had heirs to follow in my footsteps. My twin sisters who also lacked a heart, perhaps that was my fault. That hidden somewhere deep in the crevasse of my chest, there was a still-beating heart that was overflowing with grief. I was but one side of a broken coin, and the worse one at that. And yet that flaw remained despite the beatings and the torment. So perhaps this was a fitting end and war was finally over...