Page 51 of Insatiable

“But they can only survive a few days without water,” she adds quickly, as if offering some kind of twisted reassurance.

“There’s water in there. Felix found a stream pretty early on, and I saw Tomas drinking from a pail. The only food I saw was that cake, though. I don’t think they’re going to let them die quickly. Water isn’t the issue.”

“Urgh,” Juliette groans, flopping back against the pillows. “This sucks.”

I nod grimly. “But someone in there is killing them off, so it probably won’t last as long as we think.”

Juliette’s face darkens. “It’s just like back in Purgatory. We never found out who it was then. We never figured out who sent those letters, either.”

“No.” Quinn said it was Anthura, but then Hades corrected her. I almost snigger at the thought of Anthura being framed, like she’d even care.

“I’m going downstairs to see if they are giving us more food. Do you want to come?”

I shake my head. I can’t bear watching the Earthery on the big screen.

When Juliette leaves, I turn my attention back to the Hell Cell. Anthura’s smug face fills the screen, speaking directly intothe camera outside the Earthery. Despite my instinct to mute her grating voice, I turn the volume up.

“…the throes of day two. Only eight contestants are left. Yesterday they had cake; what will they find inside the labyrinth today?”

The scene cuts to one of the contestants I don’t know well, sprinting through the labyrinth as if speed alone will save him. I almost want to shout at the screen—there’s nothing chasing you, and running will only waste precious calories!—but there’s no point. He can’t hear me.

Next, the feed shifts to Tate, kneeling by the stream Felix found yesterday, filling a pot with water.

“Good girl,” I think, mentally cheering her on, though I know Juliette wouldn’t share the sentiment. It’s not that I want anyone to die. Quite the opposite—I want them all to win, to make it out alive. No one in the Earthery deserves an agonizing death. I just want Felix and Quinn to survive more than the others.

They’re my priority, but my heart twists with guilt, knowing that rooting for them means hoping someone else falls.

The camera cuts away from Tate and focuses on a group of three contestants huddled together, whispering furtively. I lean forward, straining to hear their conversation, but the audio is too muffled. Their shifty eyes and tense body language suggest they're plotting something, perhaps an alliance or a trap for the others.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rips through the labyrinth, causing them to scatter like startled rabbits. The feed switches to another camera, revealing a young woman writhing on the ground, clutching her stomach. Blood seeps through her fingers, staining her tattered clothing a dark crimson.

My heart races as I watch helplessly, silently praying for her suffering to end swiftly. The camera lingers on her contorted face, capturing every excruciating moment. Finally, her bodygoes still, her eyes glazing over, and then the Hell Cell goes dark. Panic surges through me. I shake the device, then check the other apps; everything works fine except for the live feed from the Earthery. With my heart pounding in my chest, I leap out of bed, hastily pulling on the first dress I find. I sprint out the back door and call the platform, watching it rise slowly before me. Impatience ignites my urgency, and as soon as I step on, I’m slamming the button with my foot, willing it to move faster.

The atrium and canteen are packed tightly with emaciated demons, and it takes me a few minutes to push through the crowd to reach the canteen. For the first time since entering Gluttony, I catch a scent that isn’t just donuts and sulfur; there’s the unmistakable smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the air. As I spot Juliette in our usual booth, I notice a plate of breakfast in front of her. It’s a mark of her fear that she’s not cramming bacon into her mouth, her eyes glued to the dark screen above us.

“What’s happening?” I ask, sliding into the seat next to her.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it. No one has told us anything,” she replies, her voice tense.

Before I can respond, a gruff voice growls from behind me. “These murders weren’t part of the plan.” I turn to see Dade slipping into our booth opposite us. He looks dreadful—dark circles under his eyes betray a sleepless night, and his pallor is alarming.

He beckons us closer, and I lean so far forward that my nose is almost buried in the mountain of bacon on the table between us. Dade shifts his glance to the sides, ensuring we’re not being overheard. The other people in this level seem oblivious, too engrossed in the sheer joy of food for the first time in what feels like ages, cramming it into their mouths like a wild food orgy.

“I spent the night sneaking around, listening to the demons,” he starts, but he’s cut off by Juliette.

“I took you to your room so you would sleep,” she admonishes.

“I can’t sleep knowing Quinn is in danger. I won’t sleep until I know she’s safe.”

“It can take three weeks to starve to death,” I interject. “Juliette looked it up. May I remind you that you may look like a demon, but you’re still human. You won’t help Quinn by killing yourself.” I push the plate of bacon toward him. “At least have some breakfast.”

He manages a sad smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“We all should eat, and then tell us what you found out,” I insist, nudging the plate closer to him.

Dade hesitates, glancing from the food to our worried faces, then finally picks up a piece of bacon and takes a tentative bite. “Alright, alright. You win,” he mumbles, chewing slowly. “You eat too. I’m not stealing a pregnant woman’s food.”

I don’t want to eat. The little food I’ve managed to keep down since being here has ended up in the bottom of a toilet bowl thanks to morning sickness. Yet, as I take a bite of the bacon, my stomach settles just a bit. Juliette hands us both a knife and fork, and between us, we share the massive plate of breakfast food.

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