She jumped 10

Hector didn’t speak for a long time. The fire crackled between us, low and steady.

His cloak was still damp from the rain and I could see the way his jaw clenched like he was holding something inside. Something heavy and old.

“I was ten,” he said suddenly.

I looked up but his eyes weren’t on me, still locked on the flames, like he was staring into something far away.

“My mother had been quiet for days. Barely ate or looked at anyone. My father told the servants she was preparing for the season. That her silence was sacred.” His voice grew hollow. “But I knew better, I saw her cry when she thought no one was watching.”

I reached out, resting my hand over his. He didn’t move.

“She let me braid her hair that night,” Hector continued, voice softer now. “Said it was a mother’s gift to her son. I thought it was strange, but I didn’t question it. I wanted her to smile.”

He swallowed and his next words hit like stones.

“When she turned around, I saw the mark, right between her collarbones. It looked like moonlight pressed into her skin. At first I just thought it was pretty.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“The next morning, she was gone. They found her body at the cliffs.” He finally looked at me then. “The same mark you bear now, Lyss.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, where the sigils still faintly glowed beneath my skin. My voice came out small. “You think I’ll end up like her?”

“I think the Games do something to us,” Hector said. “To our blood and to our minds. They try to break us before we understand what we are.”

I looked down at our joined hands. “Why me?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “Because I saw you before. Before all of this.”

My breath caught.

“In my dreams, for years.” Hector gave a tight nod. “You stood in the ruins of a temple with fire all around you and I was always trying to reach you, but never made it in time.”

“I had dreams too.” My throat ached. “Of you. I thought they were just nightmares.”

“They weren’t.” His voice dropped. “The Oracle brought us together for a reason. I don’t think the Games were random. I think she wanted this.”

I stared at him. “You think we’re part of a prophecy?”

He hesitated. “I think we’re the only ones strong enough to destroy it.”

A knock pounded on the door.

“Lyssira Fowler,” a guard called. “You’re summoned to the Trial Hall. The next round begins at dusk.”

Hector stood first. His face shut down again. Cold. Controlled.

“What is it this time?” I asked.

He looked over his shoulder, and his voice was pure steel.

“The Obedience Ceremony.”

* * *

The Trial Hall was colder than usual. The she-wolves were arranged in a circle, some in silks, others in armor. I stood in the center, chin high and with heart pounding.

“The rules are simple,” said the High Matron, her voice echoing. “Each contender will give their chosen she-wolf a command. If she obeys, their bond strengthens. If she disobeys, her score drops. Resistance will be noted.”

I saw Hector standing across the room, dressed in black, eyes unreadable. I knew that look, he was wearing the mask again.

I clenched my fists when the first few commands were harmless.

“Kneel.”

“Say my name.”

“Offer your hand.”

Some girls hesitated. Some didn’t. Then Hector stepped forward.

“Lyssira,” his voice cut through the silence. “Come here.”

Every eye turned to me. I stepped forward, but then stopped. My heart thundered, instincts screamed to go, but I couldn’t. Not now.

Not when everyone was watching.

I shook my head. “No.”

Gasps erupted around the room. The Matrons whispered. One councilman stood, mouth open in shock.

Hector’s face didn’t move, but his voice rose. “You disobey me?”

“Yes,” I said, loud and clear. “I don’t take orders like a dog.”

Someone laughed while another murmured, “She’ll be cut.”

Hector stormed forward now, eyes blazing. “You dare humiliate me in front of the court?”

I backed away, playing the part. “You don’t own me.”

His hand slammed into the table beside me, hard enough to shake the silver plate atop it.

“I should have known. You’re just like the rest—unworthy.”

I flinched. It sounded real. Too real. But when I looked up, I saw it.

His jaw was clenched too tight. His fingers trembled. His eyes, even as they blazed with rage, were full of something else.

Fear.

Because if he didn’t act angry, if he didn’t lash out, the council would question us both.