Countdown

One of the cameras hovered closer. A small spotlight shone down on the roof, highlighting the knife that Kurtis had dropped there earlier before he, well… dropped.

'Pick it up, Kira,' the cheerful voice urged.

I resisted, but then felt a jolt of electricity zap through my implant. I stooped down and snatched up the knife, glaring up at the camera.

'Kill Rogan, Kira. Kill him now.'

Rogan lay on the ground, his face bloodied but peaceful in sleep. His arm was sprawled across his chest as if he were lying in a comfortable bed.

And if I killed him I could have everything I ever wanted.

'The subscribers want you to kill him, Kira. They want you to win.'

I swallowed hard and let a long breath hiss out between my clenched teeth. 'The subscribers can go fuck themselves.'

I threw the knife over the side of the building.

There was deadly silence for a full ten seconds.

Then pain ripped through my brain, and everything went black.

LEVEL SIX

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

'Kira,' I heard Rogan say loudly. 'Wake up.'

I woke slowly. Extremely slowly. I lay somewhere soft. Rogan was next to me. His hand was on my forehead, stroking the hair off of it. I blinked slowly until he came into focus.

'Good morning,' he said.

'What…' My voice sounded thick with sleep. 'What's going on? Where are we?'

'Not entirely sure about that.'

'How long have we been here?'

'Not sure about that either, but it's light outside now.' He nodded toward a window to the left.

I saw that we were in a small bedroom. It looked like a motel, one of the cheaper ones. But everything seemed clean enough at first glance. A small amount of light shone through the window through gray clouds overhead.

A quick check under the sheets told me that I was still fully dressed, even wearing my boots. Rogan was also dressed.

'We must have been asleep for hours.' I tried to sit up, feeling my muscles tense, but my body ached from head to foot, so I settled back down on the comfortable bed. 'I still feel like hell.'

'Me too.'

I touched his face then, studying it for the first time up close since yesterday. He was covered in bruises and small cuts. I frowned as I softly ran my finger over them.

'I know,' he said, flinching. 'I'm a wreck. As if this damn scar wasn't bad enough.'

He reached to touch the scar that bisected his eyebrow and ran down to the center of his left cheek.

I grabbed his hand. 'You must have been really vain when you were a rich pretty boy. I hate to even tell you this, in case it swells your ego any further, but scars are hot. I wouldn't even look twice at a guy who didn't have scars.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Is that right?'

I nodded solemnly. 'In fact, I don't think you have enough scars. This game has obviously not been difficult enough for you.'

'Yeah, it's been great. I can hardly contain how much fun it's been so far.' His grin faded and he looked around the room. 'Listen, we didn't have a chance to talk about what happened between us yesterday in the reward room. I… I know you probably regret it.'

I frowned. 'Why, because of the cameras?'

His expression shadowed. 'Yeah, that. And … the fact that I couldn't control myself with you. I'm sorry. It's … it's just been so long … since I…'

'Are you trying to say that I was just a postprison piece of ass?' I said it jokingly, but inside I felt a twinge of something. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his reply to that.

But my response didn't get the answer I thought it would. Instead of a hurried assurance, or another apology, I got a huge, deep belly laugh that made him roll onto his back.

I punched his shoulder. 'It's not funny, you jerk.'

He stopped laughing long enough to say, 'Kira, you are definitely not just a … how did you put it? A postprison piece of ass?'

'So glad I amuse you.' I forced myself to sit up and crossed my arms. 'And just for the record, I don't regret it at all. Or at least, I didn't until now.'

He reached for my hands again and brought them up to his lips. 'God, even in this terrible situation-which quite honestly has capped off the worst years of my entire life- you have been one of the best things that's ever happened to me.'

I felt something stir deep inside of me, and felt tears prick at my eyes, but it wasn't from sadness this time.

'Kira, I need to tell you something,' he said, and when he raised his gaze to meet mine he wasn't amused anymore; he was deadly serious.

My stomach sank. 'What?'

'I don't know how much time we have before they interrupt us.' He scanned the room. 'When you were meeting with my brother, Jonathan stopped by to talk to me.' His jaw tensed. 'He told me that if I killed you on camera that I could win the game. That I'd be free.'

I blinked slowly and looked up at him. 'And what did you say to that?'

'What did I say? I told him to go to hell.'

I felt cold. 'Gareth told me the same thing.'

'That if you killed me you'd win.'

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. 'Well, since I'm still breathing, then I'm going to assume that you disagreed with that plan.'

'I did.'

A small grin elevated his mouth. 'Is it wrong that I'm really touched that you don't want to kill me?'

I glanced around the room. 'It's a little strange. But this entire situation is strange to start with.'

'For over four years I've lived a life where everybody wanted me dead or tortured. Even Gareth, my own brother.' His expression darkened. 'Dammit. Why would he turn his back on me like that? I would have been there for him. If the situation had been reversed, even if I thought he was guilty …' He shook his head. 'I can't see myself abandoning him like he did me.'

God, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him the truth so badly that it was like a huge, painful lump in my chest. But they couldn't know. They couldn't hear me.

'Where do you think the cameras are right now?' I asked.

'I don't know. They could be anywhere. As far as we know they're taping us right now.' He pressed back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. 'When I was in charge they were still handhelds. Now they're remote- controlled. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bit of artificial intelligence programming in them; they move like they have minds of their own, don't they?'

My mouth felt dry. 'You really think so? Like the robot?'

Like Gareth's implant? I thought.

'No, not exactly like that. Just enough that they can fly about on their own, keeping us as their focus. I got a