Reese doesn’t speak much during breakfast. He shovels food into his mouth with the mechanical efficiency of something built for consumption, barely glancing at Rebecca. His eyes keep flicking toward his phone, though it lies face down beside his tray.

  Rebecca knows exactly what’s running through his head: tonight’s battle. Her number.

  He finishes in record time, shoving his tray aside with a nod that barely counts as a farewell. Before she can decide whether to speak, he’s already halfway to the training room.

  Rebecca glances at her phone. It hasn’t stopped vibrating for a second since it started. She hesitates, unwilling to unlock it. More reactions to Reese’s latest video wait on the other side of the screen, coiled and rabid. Ignorance is bliss. She lets the phone lie still.

  Aside from the ceaseless vibrations, the scraping of chairs, the looping theme song, and the dull buzz of the ventilation system, breakfast is silent. Briefly, though. A hesitant cough interrupts the quiet just as she starts to settle into it.

  Contestant 22, with her sharp eyes, and shiny dark curls framing her face, slips into the seat across from her. The usual shine in her expression is gone. Rebecca stares, frozen, mouth full of nutrient paste.

  "May I?" Contestant 22 asks, voice tight, straining for a casual tone that fails to reach her eyes.

  Rebecca nods. Her food turns dry in her mouth.

  “So," Contestant 22 says, forcing a smile, "how’s the, uh… romance going?”

  Rebecca exhales slowly, already guessing where this is going. “It’s… complicated,” she says, choosing her words carefully. Is Contestant 22 in pain? She can recognize it, having felt it herself the past week.

  “I bet it is” Contestant 22 is good at hiding her feelings, Rebecca gives her that. “Listen, I just wanted to say that I wouldn’t have gotten in between you two if I had known there was something real happening.”

  For a moment, Rebecca is left speechless, taken aback by Contestant 22's maturity and strength of character. Suddenly, she feels a surge of admiration for her.

  “Thanks,” she says, her words catching in her throat.

  “Because…” Contestant 22 continues, “it is real, isn’t it?”

  Rebecca frowns, but Contestant 22 doesn’t wait for an answer.

  “With Reese, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not. He’s always chasing something, pushing limits just to prove he can. I bet he loves saying he’s stolen two hearts in less than two months.”

  Rebecca’s grip on her fork tightens. The words are friendly enough, but there’s something sharper beneath them.

  “Did he steal your heart, then?” she asks.

  “No,” Contestant 22 replies. “I’m young, attractive, financially independent—I don’t need a man. I’m all for casual encounters. I mean, come on. I used to research death. We put people out and back alive in a matter of hours. No man can impress me.”

  “You killed people for your research?” Rebecca asks.

  “Only for a few hours.” Contestant 22 sighs. “Listen, I’m not upset about him.” Her voice drops. “But it stings that I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t see the possibilities.” She exhales, pressing her palms against the table. “If I had known Reese was capable of fighting in someone else’s place, I would’ve played differently—like you did.”

  “I’m not playing a game,” Rebecca says, her voice steady.

  Contestant 22 lets out a bitter, throaty chuckle. "Right."

  “I don’t care if you believe me,” Rebecca continues. Contestant 22 raises an eyebrow. "Just tell me what you want."

  The answer becomes obvious when Contestant 22 glances at the camera embedded in the wall. Rebecca scoffs, now she gets it. This isn’t for Reese. It isn’t for Rebecca. Let alone to salvage the potentially damaged relationship between the two of them. This isn’t even an act of self-love or personal growth, either. Her actions are driven by a desire to perform for the cameras. To avoid being relegated to the role of the third wheel in what could be the audience's favorite love story. Little does she know, the audience doesn't want Reese and Rebecca together, not while he's putting his life on the line for her.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “I already told you,” Contestant 22 says. “I don’t want to get in the middle of something real. I’d hate that.” The silence that follows is deafening. “If this is real, of course,” she adds.

  Rebecca pushes her tray aside, leaving her unfinished nutrient bar. Appetite gone.

  "Thank you for your words," she says, keeping a smooth tone. She hates to admit it, but it’s for the cameras as well. Though she doubts she can keep up the act much longer. "I know you think this is all a game, but I don’t need more questions or doubts. So, I'll just..." She gestures toward the door.

  But Contestant 22 isn’t done.

  “I get it. He’s messing with your head,” she says.

  Rebecca takes a slow breath. "It’s not like that..."

  "I wouldn't blame you," Contestant 22 cuts in. "I wouldn’t think you’re weak either. He did it to me." Her composure cracks. "He... he used me. Used our closeness to get back at you. Me. Can you believe it? I pride myself on never shedding a tear for a man. Me, of all people. If he knew…” She stops, letting out a dry laugh. “Let’s just say I’m always two steps ahead, and this time is no exception.”

  Rebecca frowns.

  "I guess my biggest fault is always seeing the good in people. I trust too easily." The words spill out in a sharp scoff.

  Rebecca studies her. Contestant 22 looks like the strong, independent woman she claims to be. Except that Live breaks everyone. Rebecca’s chest tightens. She knows Reese didn’t intend to hurt her, but intent doesn’t erase damage.

  “He didn’t… it isn’t like that,” Rebecca starts, searching for the right words. “He isn’t using anyone. He’s dealing with... a lot.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” Contestant 22 says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She dabs at her eyes with a napkin, the motion clumsy, unguarded. "A lot of drama, a lot of self-preservation. But what about me? What about the rest of us? We’re just... collateral damage?”

  Rebecca exhales. "I thought you were fine with casual encounters."

  The words come out harsher than intended. But it’s the truth. She can’t explain Reese’s motivations, not in a way that makes sense, not without revealing too much.

  Instead, she reaches across the table, placing her hand over Contestant 22’s.

  "I don’t think you’re hurting because of him," she says. "It’s this place. It changes us. It turns us into the worst versions of ourselves."

  Contestant 22’s grip tightens, a grip firmer than Rebecca had anticipated. Her voice is barely a breath against Rebecca’s skin. "Aren't you worried he’ll do the same to you?" she whispers, the certainty in her voice is chilling. "Mark my words. He'll use you, Rebecca, just like he used me. And when he's done, he'll move on. You need to be ready for that."

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Listen, in any other context, I wouldn’t say anything, but here, sticking with him could be your demise. Haven’t you thought about that?”

  The words lodge deep, summoning the image she’s been avoiding since their first kiss: the finale. The arena floor. Her, bleeding out. Reese, standing over her, victorious.

  A sickness rises in her throat. The fear has always been there, buried, waiting. But it’s the last thing she wants to hear today. Especially this morning.

  She looks down at their hands, the accusation stinging—not because it lacks truth, but because it collides too violently with what she knows of him. The way he looks at her. The things they’ve shared. The way he touched her last night. So careful, so reverent. And the way he fights to protect her.

  Without thinking, she reaches for the wooden sparrow in her pocket, thumb running over the smooth grain. The feel of it steadies her. She has already made her choice. She already trusts him.

  "Listen," Rebecca says, her voice even. "Vanessa, isn't it?"

  She nods, surprised by the sudden familiarity.

  "No one knows what’s going to happen. Who’s going to betray who. Only one person leaves this place alive. So while we’re here... let’s live."

  Vanessa’s eyes well up. “You already sound like him. How am I supposed to live in here, anyway?”

  Rebecca tilts her head. "Well, you seem pretty pissed at Reese."

  Vanessa nods.

  "He's in the training room right now. Why don't you go and confront him? You could even give him a little slap across that arrogant face of his. It might be cathartic. And it's not like he doesn't deserve it." Vanessa chuckles, wiping at her face. Rebecca pauses. "Wait. Your ability isn't super strength, is it?"

  Vanessa shakes her head.

  "Then go nuts."

  Vanessa stays for a moment, studying her the same way Reese does sometimes. "I thought you were a stuck-up bitch, you know?" she admits. "But you’re pretty cool. Maybe we would’ve been friends outside this place."

  Rebecca narrows her eyes, trying to recall what she learned about Vanessa during her interview. She clearly had a taste for hardcore partying and illegal substances. In fact, she’d been arrested for drug possession. Hers was a lifestyle far removed from Rebecca’s disciplined past.

  "I don’t know," she says. "I guess I was kind of an uptight person, it’s just that… I don't have to be perfect anymore. There’s no use."

  Vanessa leaves saying she’s glad to have found a friend. Rebecca smiles in return, but the word "friend" feels unexpectedly intense and obligatory.

  She keeps that thought to herself, besides the term reminds her of someone else. She scans the room. Lena is nowhere to be seen. She didn’t show up for breakfast. It’s probably nothing, she tries to convince herself.

  But her gut says otherwise.