Deadly Companion

Dead silence. That's what it was. The entire room was completely, and utterly silent as the arrow flew right past my face and nipped at my ear, striking the wall behind me. The collective gasp of the crowd was undeniable. Faint, but undeniable.

I'd turned blue, somewhere between life and death, when I'd realized that that arrow had been pointed straight at me. It had felt wrong, as wrong as a child without a mother, a warrior without a weapon, a king without a crown.

In my case, I was a fighter without a target, without a purpose, without a life. Life. That's what I almost lost a few seconds ago. And yet I hadn't. I wasn't supposed to be standing here, watching him as he watched me, breathless.

I could tell, even from this far, about two hundred and thirty feet away, that he was panting, as if he'd just run a marathon. My Enhanced Sight gave me a chance to scan his face. His expression was a mixture of anger, relief, and devastation.

And I understood it all. I may have been the only one who understood any of it.

But the crowd didn't. The Alphas didn't. In all the silence of the crowd, I'd almost thought I'd gotten away with this one. But no. Everyone was watching. Everyone had just witnessed the abomination at hand. I was supposed to be dead, but here I was, alive. Why?

Because he hadn't shot the arrow into my heart like he was supposed to. He'd refused to go according to his father's instruction, and he looked relieved. I hoped then, that he would realize what he had done. I prayed so hard that he would just say it was a mistake, that he had missed on accident, that he would take another arrow and shoot it at me.

But he did none of those. He simply stood there, staring at me. Right after his lips moved and formed words, chaos . . . went . . . loose.