My heart pounded, startled by her sudden appearance. "Can you not just appear like a ghost, please?" I said, hastily shoveling the last pack of steaks into the pillowcase and slinging it over my shoulder.

"You will answer my question. What are you doing?" Her voice was sharp, laced with steel, like she'd finally figured me out.

"I'm currently speaking to an entitled brat," I spat, stepping toward her to get past.

She didn’t budge. Instead, she planted a hand on my chest and shoved me back into the freezer.

"Do not dodge the question!" she snapped, "What do you have in those… pillowcases?" Confusion briefly crossed her face.

She blinked, shook her head, and refocused, her face hardening again. "Tell me what you're doing. Right now."

I really didn't like this fink. But she was a girl, so I have to be nice. Grinding my teeth, I forced the words out. "I am stealing food. Now move."

She looked at me like I’d just taken a shit on her foot. "You are in no position to order me around! And are you really just stealing food?"

I clenched my jaw. "Well yes you stupid fink. Now I’m going to look for a weapon, so can I rudely ask you to fuck off, please?"

A slow, triumphant grin tugged at her lips. She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you're looking for a weapon."

My stomach sank.

"I took your advice from last time," she continued, smug. "So I watched the video of you and the lieutenant speaking—which, mysteriously, someone tried to delete, by the way." She tilted her head, watching me like a predator sizing up prey. "And I learned something interesting. Like how you confessed to sneaking into Alexandria every night. At first, I wondered why you didn't just steal from here if you were hungry. And then I figured it out."

She jabbed a finger into my chest.

"You're a traitor. You use your civvie status and food as a cover. You're selling information to the rebels about the Blessed training regimen." Her voice dripped with accusation. "So, liar, tell me what you were really doing again?"

I stared at her in utter disbelief.

Traitor? The only rebels were the gangs, and I wanted them all to die screaming. What would they even do with that information?

I exhaled sharply, forcing my voice slow—like I was explaining something to a particularly dense child. "I am stealing food because I am hungry. I didn’t think it would be this easy, which is why I left for Alexandria. Okay? Is that understandable?" I tilted my head. "Besides, I thought you finks liked stealing, what with us having to ‘find’ our own weapons for the tournament and all."

Her face twisted with anger and contempt. "Stealing weapons is a way for the potential new high-ranker to prove their resourcefulness and cunning." She sneered, her voice dripping with disgust. "You've stolen enough food to feed thirty people for three days. No way you're eating all of that yourself."

She jabbed a finger in my face. “Plus, I know you’re a liar, so you’ll stay right here while I call the colonel.”

Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out that sleek, lead-colored device—the same kind that let me drop that fink off the roof.

If she called the colonel, things would get… bad. He wouldn’t let me go. Worse, the lieutenant might fess up that I’ve been breaking out, which means I’d be stuck here even longer.

That can’t happen. That won’t happen.

I stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture to keep her from bringing the thing to her ear.

"Let's not get hasty here," I said, forcing my voice to calm. "It’s normal for B-ranks to steal stuff. I’m just stealing for the rest of us."

I glanced over my shoulder, lowering my voice like I was letting her in on a secret. “We had a bit of an argument. I’m just trying to make up for it now. That’s what the food’s for, okay?” I said, as convincingly as possible.

She tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Oh really? But I thought you were hungry, and that’s why you were stealing the food? Or am I mistaken?"

Shit.

"I didn't want to tell the S-rank about our lowly B-rank problems,” I said, forcing a shrug, desperation creeping up my spine like an old friend. "That’s why I said I was hungry."

Her smirk didn’t fade. "So you… lied to me?” She shook her head, eyes flashing. "And now you expect me to trust you’re telling the truth? No, I think you know you’ve been caught.”

She lifted the device to her ear.

I moved before I could think, my hands snapping to her wrist, shaking

"Sofia—please." My voice cracked. "Don't do that."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sand.

"If you let me leave, you’ll never have to deal with me again. I swear on everything holy, I’m not what you think I am. Just move, and I’ll be gone. Never to be seen again. Isn’t that what you want?"

I didn’t even know what I was saying. My mind was running in circles, scrambling for the right words, anything that would make her listen.

Then I realized I was begging.

Begging.

My stomach churned. Nausea crawled up my throat.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I swore—I swore—I would never bow again. Not to the finks. Not to anyone.

And yet, here I was. My voice cracking. My hands shaking.

Pathetic, a small voice whispered in my head.

And of all people, it had to be her.

Her face tightened, a look of cold certainty settling in.

“Do you see?” she spat, wrenching her hand away. “Look how desperate you are to leave, traitor.”

She straightened, voice cold and sharp. "This only proves what I already suspected. The food is a cover, and now that I've caught you, you're willing to say anything to escape. If you weren’t guilty, you wouldn’t be this afraid."

I froze.

I wasn’t some rebel selling secrets. I wasn’t running to betray them. I wasn’t trying to do anything except leave. But she had already made up her mind.

I could see it happening—the finks dragging me to the colonel’s office, not believing a word I said, torturing me until I gave up my kids, killing them in front of me one by one until they heard something they liked—something they’d never hear.

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might throw up. I took a step back, pulse pounding, breath shallow and quick. My vision blurred at the edges. I couldn’t reason with her. I couldn’t make her understand.

If I stayed, my kids would starve. If she called the colonel, they'd die screaming.

We needed to leave. Tonight. I’d have to steal the submarine. I’d have to make Vincent do as I said—kill him and force the others to help me if I had to. Worst of all, I couldn’t even kill the girl in front of me to buy time. Not unless I wanted my kids to suffer. Slowly. She was the general’s daughter, after all.

But she was in the way.

So I punched her in the face.

Everything slowed. I watched it happen, crystal clear. Her eyes widened in surprise as my dice landed, her reaction sluggish. I could see every microexpression—her pupils dilating, nostrils flaring, jaw tensing as she tried to move—but she wasn’t fast enough. My fist connected hard.

Her head snapped back, blood gushing from her nose. She blinked, dazed, hands rising slowly to her face. I caught her wrist mid-motion, twisted her around, and locked my arm under her throat. I walked her backward, dragging her the same way I'd dragged the guards at the gate.

She didn’t go down easy. Instead of clawing at my arm, she planted both feet beneath her. I saw it coming, clear as day—the moment she shifted her weight, the way her muscles tensed. She hooked her leg behind mine, grabbed my foot, and yanked.

Even with my dice, I wasn’t strong enough to stop her. We fell.

She landed on top of me. I was already moving, shoving her off, rolling to my feet as she pushed herself up. Too slow. She was on her hands and knees. She wasn’t even looking at me yet.

I grabbed her by the hair, hauled her up, and drove my fist into her face. She crumpled to her knees, so I kicked her, hard, in the chest. She flew backward, crashing into a steel table. Food spilled everywhere.

I didn’t stop to watch. I lunged for the pillowcases, grabbed them, and ran.

As I reached the pantry doors, I glanced back—just in time to see her press the device to her mouth.

"Colonel Walker! Help me! A traitor is trying to escape!"

I sprinted, faster than ever. Past the dormitories, my boots slamming against the dirt. Through the doors, blowing them open so hard they crashed against the walls like a gunshot.

I ran straight for the fence, the floodlights above casting long, jagged shadows. Jumping, I tucked my knees to my chest, barely clearing the barbed wire.

I hit the ground hard, my legs absorbing the impact as dust kicked up around me. Heart pounding, I glanced back at the fence and muttered, “Thank God.”

Then I turned toward the road—and froze.

Twelve finks stood there, staring at me wide eyed.

The guard I’d snuck past a few times was with them, seemingly out on patrol.

Where the fuck were all these finks last time I snuck out?

I almost felt bad.

Almost.

They were in the way.

I surged forward, fists tightening around the pillowcase straps, ready to teach them what happens when you stand between me and my kids.

Just like the first day I’d gotten blessed, I ran straight at them, remembering how I’d knocked them over.

Their shields snapped open without a sound, glowing as they activated. They slammed them together, the seams fusing like one solid wall of lead and energy.

And when I hit them, I bounced off.

The men grunted as their boots dug into the ground, absorbing the impact. It didn't matter. I grabbed the top of a shield, using it as leverage to vault over them.

As I cleared the shields, a net whipped through the air, unfolding like a metal-webbed claw.

A fink’s tattoo glowed, the pulsing lines sending a ripple through the net’s cords as it snapped shut around me mid-air, cinching tight in an instant. Like they’d seen countless things try to jump their line and knew exactly what to do.

I crashed to the ground, the impact rattling my bones. The pillowcase of cutlery skidded beside me as the net’s fibers contracted, yanking me backward with brutal force.

The fink with the glowing tattoo reeled me in like a hooked animal. Around him, the other finks started screaming, "Surrender! Stop struggling!"

I waited. Biding my time.

As he dragged me past one fink, I shot up onto my feet, muscles straining against the net, and grabbed her, spinning her around and dragging her backward—just as a dart buried itself into my leg.

"Fuck this," I growled, throwing the girl at the fink with the glowing tattoo. The second she hit him, the net vanished.

I grabbed the pillowcase and hurled it at another fink, hitting him so hard he flew backward with a grunt.

Another tackled me as I was hit with another dart.

I felt it sink into my stomach, but I still managed to sprawl onto the fink’s head, shoving his face into the dirt.

There was shouting, orders barked out, but my dice made them loud and slow. I ignored them, grabbing the man beneath me, hoisting him up, and hurling him at the fink with the tranquilizer gun before bolting for the road.

A line of finks with shields moved to cut me off.

I hit them first.

They weren’t ready. Their shields weren’t fully locked. They crumpled, hitting the ground hard.

I had one pillowcase of food.

It had to be enough.

I tore down the road, sprinting with everything I had—and then another dart slammed into the back of my shoulder.

I ran for another ten seconds, my eyelids growing monstrously heavy. My body screamed for rest.

Sleep was death.

I smacked myself, forcing my legs to keep moving, trying to outrun the tranquilizer.

Then my clothes grew heavy.

Too heavy.

I tripped, tumbling head over heels, sliding on my face as the weight piled onto me.

Far heavier than anything the colonel had thrown at me before.

I landed flat, facing the city, the pillowcase just out of reach.

I fought. I clawed at the ground, trying to push myself up, but every movement only made it worse.

The weight pressed down. My clothes squeezed like a vice, crushing my ribs.

The old wound those bastard lieutenants had given me roared back to life.

Then—a boot slammed onto my back, the colonel's voice echoing into the night.

"And where the fuck do you think you’re going?"