Page 43 of Warlord's Plaything

He wants me to break.

To admit I fucked up.

To grieve.

I don’t have that luxury.

So instead, I step into his space, let my voice drop even lower.

"But you already knew that, didn’t you?"

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t fucking blink.

"Because you’re still here."

The silence between us is thick.

Dagen’s breath is ragged, his hands fist at his sides.

Sella watches from the ground, her gaze heavy.

Like she’s waiting to see if we tear each other apart.

And maybe we should.

But instead, Dagen exhales roughly and turns away, hands braced on his hips.

"I just don’t want to see you end up like them, Hira,"he mutters.

"I don’t have that fucking choice."

My skin is too tight.

Everything is too much.

The implications what happened, the way Xyron looked at me earlier, the way I knew the fight before it even started?—

I shove off, turning away, walking fast, heading to the edge of the pits, to the underground tunnels.

I don’t stop until I hit cold stone.

Until my hands slam into the wall.

Breathing heavy.

Heart pounding.

Too much.

Too fucking much.

"Losing control?"

The voice is too familiar.

Too fucking close.

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