Page 7

Bex

The train came to a screeching halt, and for a moment, all I could hear was the rapid pulse in my ears, drowning out the usual noise. My body tensed, a mix of anticipation and dread wrapping around me. The fabric of my outfit clung uncomfortably to my skin. It wasn’t the usual loose-fitting comfort I was accustomed to, everything felt tighter. Every curve of my body was on display, and there was no escaping the way it felt, especially when I could feel my own breath hitch in the tight corset around my torso. My chest felt like it was being pushed forward, and my face, once again coated with layers of thick makeup, seemed almost foreign to me. I hated it. I hated the way it made me feel like an object, something to be admired and scrutinized.

I would have argued, protested the way they’d dressed me up, how they’d painted me into this character, if I hadn’t seen the looks Ezra and Zaffir gave me when they thought I wasn’t looking. I caught the way their eyes lingered, scanning my body like it was a prize they were trying to figure out how to claim. I pretended not to notice, keeping my gaze averted, but their stares burned into me. It was subtle, but undeniable. The heat in their eyes was clear, and full of appreciation, desire, and lust. And suddenly I didn’t want to shrink away from it, to protest, but rather indulge in it.

It had been so long since anyone looked at me like that. Since anyone noticed me with that kind of hunger in their gaze. Maybe I shouldn’t feel the way I did, considering the situation, but I couldn’t help it. That didn’t stop the rush of warmth their gazes elicited in me. I could feel myself soaking it in, almost greedily. How much longer would I even be alive to feel it? To be looked at? To be desired? I may never feel that kind of affection again. And that thought made me sick with longing.

“Now, when we step off the train, there will be a warm welcome. I advise you to make a good impression,” Nova’s voice was cheerful, almost overly so as she led me toward the exit. Her steps were quick, her heels clicking against the metal floor of the cabin, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. “Nexum saw you last night during your segments, but they need to get to know you now. Really get to know you.” Her smile was wide. “Just smile, wave, and follow me. We’re headed to the welcome party for all the Challengers.” She clapped her hands with enthusiasm.

I could hear the bustling crowd just beyond the door, the chatter, the laughter, the low hum of excitement. My stomach twisted. I wanted to take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself, but I couldn’t seem to focus.

I glanced at Ezra, whose eyes were locked on me. He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing mine, grounding me in this moment. His touch was solid, like an anchor in the chaos of this manufactured world around us .

“You okay?” His voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the manic energy of Nova’s commands.

I looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly, my voice betraying the nervousness I was trying so hard to hide.

He nodded slowly, his expression falling into the stoic mask he wore during the vote. But in his eyes, there was a fleeting glimmer of the warmth he'd shown me last night, tucked away in the quiet darkness of the train car.

For a moment, I felt a strange sense of pleasure. There was something oddly satisfying about knowing that the softer side of him, the part of him that was open, vulnerable, and real, was something I was getting to witness when no one else could.

Without saying a word, he lifted his hand, palm open, and held it out toward me.

“Together?” He offered, his voice steady, but there was an unspoken promise behind it. His gaze didn’t waver, meeting mine with a quiet intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

I hesitated, a thousand thoughts running through my head. The cameras, the producers, the way they’d twist any action for the drama. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to think twice, to pull back, to keep my distance. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw something different. No masks, no games, just the same honesty that had been there last night.

“The cameras…” I challenged softly, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Ezra just shrugged, unfazed. “Fuck them. They can think whatever they want. I told you I had your back. And I meant it.” His words were fierce.

Something in his tone made it impossible for me to hold back. He meant what he said. I could feel it, and maybe I wanted to believe him .

I let my reservations slip away, the protests in my head quieting as if they had no place here. Ezra was right. To hell with them. I reached out and gripped his hand, fingers intertwining with his. The connection was immediate, warm, steady, and comforting. It was a simple gesture, but it brought a wave of relief that washed over me, calming the storm in my chest. For a fleeting moment, it felt like there was nothing else in the world except the quiet strength of his presence.

Together, we walked toward the chaos beyond the door.

The roar of the crowd was a violent, deafening wave that crashed over me as soon as we stepped off the train. The air was thick with excitement and energy, the sea of people dressed in gleaming silver, copper, and gold, their makeup extravagant and their clothing even more outlandish. Jewelry glittered like gaudy treasure, and their eyes gleamed with an almost frantic desire for attention. The anticipation was palpable, the crowd was hungry and restless, just waiting for us to make our way through.

Ezra’s hand tightened around mine as we stepped onto the golden carpet, its plush surface stretching out before us like a path through the madness. The crowd parted around us like water around a stone, but they surged at the rope barriers, their voices crashing together in a chaotic symphony of shouts and calls. “How’s your brother?” “Why are you holding his hand?” “What’s wrong with your brother?” “Why are you so angry, Ezra?” “Are you two together?” “Are you single?” “Where are your parents?”

Each question felt like a needle, sharp and invasive, probing into places I didn’t want anyone to see. My mouth was plastered into a smile, the kind of smile that was forced and fake, but I could hear Nova’s voice in the back of my head saying ‘ Smile, wave, and make an impression.’ So, that’s what I did. One hand lifted, and I waved. But it was too much. Too fast. My heart was pounding in my chest, my skin crawling with the weight of their gaze.

Ezra’s grip on my hand was steady and unwavering. I looked over at him, finding that familiar softness in his gaze. He was watching me, his eyes saying more than words ever could. Without a single word, he silently begged me to stay focused, to keep my eyes on him and not on the madness around us. And so I did. I tuned out the world, focusing on the warmth of his hand in mine and the steady rhythm of our footsteps.

We moved through the crowd together, Ezra a solid presence by my side, and Nova leading the way, reveling in the attention. I could see Zaffir in the corner of my eye, the lens of his camera following every step we took, capturing our every movement.

Finally, we reached the long stretched vehicle. The moment I slid inside, a small breath of relief escaped me, and I leaned back, closing my eyes for just a second. The noise, the questions, the press of people. But just as I was about to release a full sigh of relief, Zaffir slipped inside right behind us, taking the seat opposite us without a second thought.

The red light on his camera flashed, and the tension in my chest knotted tighter. I wasn’t free. Not at all. The cameras were still rolling. The show wasn’t over.

Ezra pressed closer to my side. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. I turned my gaze toward him, finding solace in the warmth of his touch.

But as I glanced over to where Zaffir was seated, camera in hand, I noticed something flicker in his eyes. A flash of something sharp, as his gaze briefly lingered on the way Ezra’s hand held mine.

Before I could dwell too much on it, Nova’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Well, that was fun!” she exclaimed. She knocked on the partition between the cabin and the driver’s seat. “We’re ready,” she added, clearly eager to get to the welcome party.

The car lurched forward, jerking me from my thoughts. I wasn’t prepared for the sudden movement, and before I could steady myself, I felt myself tipping forward, my balance off-kilter. But then, in an instant, Ezra was there. His arm shot around my waist, pulling me back against him, keeping me from crashing forward into the seat. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm where it rested against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. I found myself leaning into him.

Nova’s voice droned on, explaining what we could expect at the party, her words a blur as they passed through my ears. My mind felt like it was in a whirlwind, spinning in every direction. I watched as trees with bright pink flowers framed the street as we passed. I wanted to focus on that, but I felt drawn to something else instead. Ezra’s sudden shift in demeanor had thrown me off. One moment, he was nothing but a scowl toward the cameras, keeping a cool distance. The next, he was openly showing affection, his hand in mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. If it hadn’t been for the quiet, intimate moment we’d shared last night at the bar, where everything felt real, stripped of the cameras, I might have thought he was messing with me, trying to toy with my emotions, playing some game.

Finally, the car came to a halt, and we arrived at our destination. The doors opened, and I stepped out into a world I couldn’t have imagined even in my wildest dreams. There, in front of me, stood the center of Praxis itself.

I stared up at the grand structure, my breath catching in my throat. The sight of it was overwhelming. I had never seen anything like this, anything this pristine. The buildings in our Collective, the ones that we considered beautiful, were battered by time, faded from years of neglect and lack of resources. This beautiful home was the opposite of that. Pristine, untouchable, as if it existed in a world where the pain and hardship the rest of Nexum had endured had never even touched it. The bright white walls gleamed in the sunlight, contrasting against the deep green of the lawn that stretched out in front of it. Elegant pillars rose up at the base of the house, supporting the grand structure above, while sweeping staircases led up to the massive entrance.

It was a symbol of everything Praxis claimed to uphold, the power, the wealth, the untouchable beauty that we, the lowly Collectives, could only dream of. Untouched by time, untouched by the desperate and dark history that Praxis liked to remind us of every single day. It was a thing of beauty, yes, but it also felt like a reminder of just how far away the people who lived inside this place were from the rest of us.

I swallowed hard, trying to focus as we made our way up the steps, but the sight of the gleaming home looming over me kept gnawing at the back of my mind. This was their world, beautiful, cold, and impenetrable. And we weren’t their guests. We were their entertainment.

Ezra was still holding my hand and I tried not to read too much into it. He was offering comfort, and I needed it. Simple as that.

Nova stopped just before the grand front doors and turned to us with a sharp look. “Alright, time to go in.” She glanced at our joined hands, her gaze lingering for a second too long. “One at a time, I’m afraid.”

I nodded, slowly pulling my hand from Ezra’s, more reluctant than I cared to admit. “Ezra, you first,” Nova instructed, giving him a small push toward the door. He shot me one last encouraging look before disappearing inside.

I stood there for a moment, my fingers nervously playing with the fabric of my skirt. The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up to find Zaffir standing next to me, his camera now off.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said, his voice almost too casual.

I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I do. I’m about to walk into a room full of people who have no idea who I am, except for whatever they saw in a two-minute segment. People who are either cheering for my success or praying for my downfall. Or both.”

Zaffir gave me a small, knowing smile. “I’m sure they already love you. Your story really resonated with them.”

I frowned. “You mean the story you thought was made up?”

He winced, the smirk slipping for just a second. “Okay, not my finest moment.” He paused for a beat, eyes scanning my face with something softer than usual. “You’re not playing a game, Brexlyn. I get that now. You’re just… honest. And that’s rare around here. I wasn’t expecting it.”

I crossed my arms, trying to mask the vulnerability his words stirred. “Doesn’t exactly make for good TV.”

Zaffir chuckled, leaning against a pillar casually. “You’d be surprised. People like the truth. They like to watch someone who doesn’t hide behind a mask, who isn't obviously on a show. That’s why you’ll stick around, because you’re not pretending.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not sure whether to be annoyed or… grateful. “And you think that’s enough?”

“To win? No, probably not,” he replied, his tone a little more serious now. “But it’ll get you pretty far. If you’re smart enough to learn how to play the game once you're in it, that is."

I snorted, but there was a hint of humor in it. “I thought I was already in it.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with humor mixed with sadness. “I guess you are.”

I stared at him for a beat, letting the silence settle heavy between us. “So what now?” I asked. “You gonna give me a tutorial on how to lie to the camera? Sell a story? I’m guessing you’re a seasoned pro.”

Zaffir’s grin curved, sharp and amused. “No,” he said. “My advice? Be honest, don’t lie…show Nexum exactly who you are. Just don’t expect anyone else to be.”

“Be what? Honest?”

“Yeah, you’ll be better off if you just assume everyone is lying,” he added. An unreadable expression crossed his face.

I huffed a short laugh, crossing my arms. “So, then why should I trust you?”

“Because,” he said, without missing a beat, “I’m behind the camera, not in front of it. I’ve got no reason to lie to you.”

“Actually,” I said, tilting my head, “I think that gives you plenty of reason.”

He smirked at that, eyes glinting like he enjoyed the verbal sparring. “I don’t gain anything by feeding you bullshit, Brexlyn. I’m not here to manipulate you, I just document what happens.”

“Isn’t that what producers do? Manipulate?”

His smile didn’t quite falter, but something in it cooled. “Touché.”

There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel the static shift between us. Then he added, “Look, this whole thing, it’s a giant show. You wanna survive? Be real. But don’t lay your cards out for everyone and then expect them to play fair.”

I studied him, unsure if I wanted to take that as wisdom or warning. “You’re awfully invested for someone who’s supposedly neutral.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m tired of watching my Challengers fail every year. Or maybe I just want to see someone who deserves it win for once.”

That hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened, but I didn’t let it show. I rolled my shoulders and forced the mask back into place.

“I’m rooting for you, Brexlyn Hollis.” His eyes latched onto mine. Focused. Pleading.

I raised a brow. “Because you care, or because if I go down, your gig goes with me?”

His gaze flicked over me, serious now. “This has nothing to do with the job.”

There it was again, that flicker of something real behind his careful facade. And just like that, the air between us felt heavier, charged.

I didn’t trust him. Not entirely. But part of me wanted to. “How do I know you’re not lying to me too?”

He pointed to the camera at his side. Off. “Because nobody else is listening.”

“Alright,” I said finally, voice low. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do,” he replied, stepping back with that same infuriating, unreadable smirk. “Because you’re not as much of a wild card as you think.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my focus. But before I could respond, Nova’s voice rang out from inside. “Bex, it’s your turn.”

I nodded, ready to go, but as I stepped forward, my foot caught on the threshold. Before I could catch myself, I tumbled forward, expecting to face-plant right onto the marble floor. But Zaffir’s arms shot out, quick and steady, catching me effortlessly before I could hit the ground.

He looked down at me, his hands still gently gripping my arms, and a teasing glint flashed in his eyes. “Careful.”

I blinked up at him, my heart racing in my chest from the sudden proximity. I gave him a small, reluctant smile before pushing off his chest and standing up. My skin still tingled where his hands had been, and I quickly smoothed my skirt to distract myself.

With a deep breath, I turned to head inside, but just before the door clicked shut, I heard Zaffir’s voice again, softer this time, with a touch of sincerity I didn’t expect.

“Good luck, Brexlyn.”

The door closed behind me, but his words lingered in my ears, like a quiet promise.

Nova led me toward the entrance of a grand hall, and I suddenly felt exposed all over again. My body still tingled from the encounter with Zaffir. I couldn’t quite figure out why I was reacting like this to him. He was Praxis, after all, he wasn’t on my side. But there was something about him, something magnetic, that drew me in. Then, of course, there was Ezra. His mysterious aura, the way he made me feel when he showed me that softer side of him. I couldn’t deny the pull, but I also couldn’t ignore the fact that both of them were, in their own way, obstacles in my path.

I needed to focus. I was about to walk into a room full of competitors, people who were all vying for the same goal, for the same chance. And if I wanted to save my brother, and return to him alive, I couldn’t afford to be distracted by schoolgirl crushes. This was serious.

The door opened, and my name was announced. A wave of noise swept over me as the crowd's attention focused in my direction. The ballroom was breathtaking, the guests from Praxis in shades of gold, gowns and suits that shimmered like something out of a dream. In stark contrast, the other Challengers stood out like sore thumbs, their dark blacks and grays clashing against the opulent surroundings.

I stepped forward into the crowd, trying to smile graciously as I made my way deeper into the room, but my mind kept returning to Ezra. When I finally spotted him across the room, I hesitated. I couldn’t go to him. Not now. I needed to stay focused.

I navigated the sea of guests, answering polite questions, smiling, and doing my best to keep Zaffir’s warning on repeat in my head. Everyone’s mask was on. Painted grins. Words polished to a shine.

Eventually, I found myself drifting to the edge of the room, away from the spotlight. I let the crowd blur, my gaze sharpening as I watched them move. My eyes tracked gestures, shifts in posture, lingering glances. I didn’t care about what they said when they knew I could hear them, I cared about what they gave away when they thought I couldn’t. Praxis guests would clamor around a Challenger, fawning over them, then slink away to boast, tease and chat about the exchange. Like gossiping little children.

“Always a pleasure to meet a fellow people watcher,” a voice called from behind me.

I turned, expecting another Praxis lackey desperate to interact with the entertainment. But the woman standing there wasn’t Praxis. She was a Challenger.

She wore a tailored black suit that hugged her curves like it had been made with her in mind. Her skin was sun-warmed, smooth, and golden. Her hair was pulled back in a low, tight bun. Her dark brown eyes burned into my skin. They trailed over me, curious, slow .

I blinked. My throat dried up. I swallowed hard.

“I must be doing a pretty poor job of it if you noticed me,” I said, a half-smirk tugging at my lips. “I’m supposed to be the one watching, not being watched.”

She smiled, just enough to let it be dangerous. “Not your fault,” she said. “You’re just... noticeable.”

My pulse spiked. I held her gaze, refusing to be the first to drop it.

“I prefer the edges too,” she said, then finally broke eye contact to glance out over the crowd again. “I find you learn the most about people when they let their guard down.”

I stared at her profile, watching and her keen eyes surveyed the room.

“Remind me to keep my guard up then,” I responded.

She smirked, eyes flicking back to me, clearly entertained by my response, and held out her hand. “Briar Grey, Darkbranch Collective.”

I raised an eyebrow but took her hand, shaking it firmly. “Brexlyn Hollis, Canyon.”

“Oh, I know,” she said smoothly. “I watched your segment last night. But I have to admit, the screen didn’t do you justice.”

I felt a flush creeping up my neck and quickly cleared my throat. “What do I owe the pleasure of your flattery?” I asked, trying to keep the mood light.

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk turning more mischievous. “Can’t a gal get to know her competition?”

I gestured toward the rest of the ballroom. “Sure. There they are.”

She chuckled, low and enticing. “You don’t consider yourself competition?”

I flexed my nonexistent muscles for effect, earning a laugh from her. But then she stepped closer, invading my space in a way that made my breath catch.

“You and I both know,” she said, her voice low and almost purring, as she trailed a single finger along my upper arm, sending a jolt of electricity through me, “that these muscles,” she traced a finger down my arm, “aren’t the only strength you need in these trials.”

I froze, unsure how to respond. There was something about her, something dangerous in the way she looked at me, like she knew everything about me just by staring into my soul. Something that sent a wave of warmth rushing through my chest, and to my core.

“I guess we’ll see when the trials start, won’t we?” I responded, trying to mask my reaction with a feigned smile.

She leaned in, her smirk widening just slightly. “We will,” she said, her voice dark and inviting.

“So,” I said, tilting my head toward her, trying to sound casual, maybe a little aloof, but the flirt crept in anyway. “Have you learned anything useful about your competition yet?”

It came out more sultry than I intended. I told myself it was a strategy. A tool. Just another way to get her talking. It had nothing to do with how sinfully unfair her eyes were.

“Tons,” Briar said smoothly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Why, you curious?” She leaned in, warm and teasing, eyes glinting like she already knew the answer.

“If you’re willing to share,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. Her gaze dropped to my lips, and for a split second, everything else in the room dulled.

Something sparked behind her eyes. Not just heat, something darker. Lustful. And I felt it coil low in my stomach. I pressed my thighs together, hoping to regain even a sliver of composure .

“Hollis,” she murmured like a velvet secret, lips brushing close to my ear, “I think you’ll find that I love to share.”

A humiliating shiver rippled down my spine.

“Saltspire’s elected, Devrin, is aiming for the electricity trial, but he plans to place in as many as possible,” she said, straightening up slightly and nodding toward a massive guy posted near the far wall.

I followed her gaze. “Saltspire? But don’t they run mostly on hydropower?” I asked, recalling images from books and old transmission reels, coastal cliffs, crashing waves, and massive turbines.

“They do,” Briar replied. “But their main plant’s half-dead. Infrastructure’s failing, so they need a backup source.”

“They need electricity,” I finished for her, nodding slowly.

Her smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “The Wildfold elected and Oasis elected both want Air Filtration. Apparently, the last few years have been rough, standing water, and pollutants. People are getting sick.”

“Sick?” This was the first I was hearing of this.