Eight.

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Sorry for the late update. School has been INSANE lately. Hopefully the extra long chapter makes up for it! As always your support is much appreciated. Thanks for being awesome guys!

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"But- but you can't just fucking die!" Gabriel roared. I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut. Tears gathered in my ducts, threatening to spill over. I pressed my fingers to my lip, as if I could push all my grief back down and feel nothing. I can't wait for the day I see you dead on the floor of that arena. My step-mothers words reverberated through my head, the last words she said to me as two handlers dragged me from our house three years ago.

"It's my fault," I croaked. "I should have lost more. I shouldn't have started biting-"

"Sang stop!" Grace shouted. "This isn't your fault." I locked eyes with her, looking for comfort, but her expression only fueled my fears. She knew it was my fault too. Sure, I did nothing wrong, but that didn't matter. I still chose to go full-out each week. I still played dirty, draining the blood of my opponents until they were too weak to defeat me. I never threw my fights to please the crowd. My actions were killing me, not Jade. A tear slipped down my cheek.

The door to our room creaked open, startling me, and in came the tall, brooding handler as before. The one who was much kinder than his appearance suggested. He was pushing a cart filled with paper bags. Our eyes met, and the second he took in my tear-streaked face, his expression darkened considerably.

"Lunch," he announced, his eyes never leaving mine. The handler lifted a paper bag, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white.

"Sang Sorenson," he bit out. I came up to claim my dinner. All the while his eyes asked me a thousand questions I couldn't understand, but their overall message was clear: are you alright? He must have seen the answer on my face, because he lifted his lip in a quiet snarl, bearing an elongated canine. I backed up and kept my eyes down. When in doubt, showing submission was the best way to defuse the situation. However, this only made him growl louder.

Our handler passed out the rest of the meals, and with one last glance at me, he left. Nathan and Gabriel breathed an audible sigh of relief.

As per usual, Grace, Elie, Jason, and I gathered in the center of the room, and took out our food. It was peanut butter sandwiches and nearly-expired fruit. How they managed to get silver into fruit, I'll never know. Elie began the process of sniffing out our actual meal.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked, plopping down next to me. Gabriel took a seat at my other side.

"They put silver in the food," I said. "You get different amounts of silver depending on your rank within the compound. The better fighters get the better food. So we've come up with a system. We take the best food from each of our meals and divide that amongst us. Even though we're eating less, it's greater quality."

"Count me in," he said, emptying his paper bag into the pile. Gabriel followed suit. I smiled as warmly as I could at them, trying to show my appreciation. Even when I died, these two would still be here to take care of the others. Gabriel's eyes lit up, and he smiled back. Nathan grinned, his cheeks tinged pink.

Elie picked up a sandwich and an apple and took a whiff.

"Oh god," she choked, "Sang's food is out. You've got more silver than Grace."

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