Piper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice.
*****
Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...
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The engine idled along with my thoughts as I watched dawn break through the grimy windshield of my car. I'd pulled over at a look-out bay along the Great Alpine Road, yanking up the handbrake and almost pulling a muscle in my back as I twisted in my seat to wind down the windows by hand.
Crisp air poured into the car, turning my breath to steam. I held the scent of eucalyptus and snow in my lungs as long as they could bear it, savouring the sense of rightness that seeped through my pores and into my bones. It looked like someone had sprayed shaving cream all over the trees, goopy bunches of white snow starting to slide off the branches, melting under the warmth of a new day.
This was what I thought of when I used the word home. Not a house, not a person, but a place; the thin mountain air and crowded trees, the steep slopes and squelchy sphagnum moss. It was one of the few places that felt untouched by the plague of humanity, though it tended to crop up like the common cold every ski season.
Headlights speared through my private moment, flashing in my rearview mirror. A fresh troop of sentries to replace those on the night shift.
I rubbed my eyes when I saw the clock on the dashboard, realising I'd slipped into a trance-like state for nearly an hour. It was the closest I'd come to sleep since the previous morning.
A soft bed waited for me ten minutes down the road, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to finish the remainder of the journey. After passing through the blockade and being vetted by the guards, everything started to feel a little bit too real.
I hadn't seen Colden or Lawrence since the battle for Ridgeview. I was scared of how easy it would be to nestle into their ranks; how hard it would be to leave once I got comfortable. I knew I would never rest easy until my mother was accounted for, the underground arena brought down on her head, but Colden didn't understand my inability to let it go. He thought I should move on with my life; move on with him, as the Luna of the Hotham District.
Our last conversation hadn't gone well, though I supposed it could have gone worse. We'd brushed over the kiss that saved my life — and the fact it had been with somebody else. We'd decided to put our burgeoning relationship on hold until I resolved my unfinished business with Corinne Cross, at which point I'd agreed to come back and try again. Colden had kissed me with a tenderness that took my breath away and promised to wait, no matter how long it took.
I still hadn't quite gotten my breath back. My lungs felt like they were clamped in a vice. I had no idea what to expect when I pulled up in his driveway, and even less of an idea on what I wanted to find. What if Colden had moved on with somebody else in the time we'd been apart? Or worse: what if he hadn't?
His expectations were crushing.
Since reaching out, Colden responded to my text with a bland 'see you soon'. I was going in blind, and I was utterly terrified of disappointing him again. He was the only person I could conceive of trusting with my life, but I was already baulking from my plan to ask him to fight on my team. People relied on him now; he'd built a community, a future for himself, while I'd pissed away mine playing pretend, with nothing to show for my ambitions but a ratty fox mask and a stack of blood money.
