My legs weakened beneath me, and just as I was about to fall, I felt a warm touch steadying me from behind.
"You alright? This isn't a safe place for girls."
I turned to see a tall, blonde boy catching me before I could hit the ground. He gently helped me back into the bathroom queue, his arm steadying me as we walked.
"Were you heading to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.
I nodded, feeling dizzy.
"I'll walk you. You don't look so good—you're pale."
"My head's spinning," I managed to whisper.
"I can see that. I'll grab you some water—I know the staff here. Let's get you to sit down first."
He seemed nice. Too nice, actually. Nicer than my own brother had been all night. The thought stung more than I expected.
He guided me to a seat just outside the bathroom, his hand firm but gentle on my back as the line snaked forward without us.
"Wait here. I'll be right back," he said.
I nodded, grateful for the chance to sit. The moment I sank into the chair, I felt a little better, though my head was still foggy. I let my eyes drift over the crowd, searching for Riven. A wave of frustration rose in me when I didn't spot him. Typical.
My gaze must've given me away because the blonde boy caught my expression as he returned, holding a glass of water and a small packet of sugar.
"I'm adding some sugar. It'll help you feel better. That okay?"
I nodded again.
"Thanks."
I sipped the water slowly, the coldness clearing my head just enough. When I'd finished, I placed the empty cup on the chair beside me.
"So," he said, settling into the seat next to me, "why are you here?"
"My brother's an attendee. He needed a plus-one to get in."
I wanted to ask him the same thing. If he was so nice, what was he doing in a place like this? But I bit my tongue, studying him instead. His easy smile, the way he spoke—it didn't match this brutal environment.
Was he one of those guys who egged people like Riven on, pushing them to fight? Or was he like my brother, sitting quietly in the crowd, pretending to be detached from the violence while still being complicit?
"It's my first time here," he offered, as if reading my thoughts. "My friend dragged me along. I'm a fighter, and he said the prize money here is insane. I see why now. They're brutal. Some barely make it out of the ring alive."
I frowned, my stomach churning.
"I've only been here four times," I muttered, "and each time is worse than the last. The blood, the violence—it disgusts me."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"You should stay out here for the third match," he said after a moment. "It's the final one."
"So?" I frowned, not understanding what made the final match any different. The first two were bad enough.
"The crowd gets riled up. They want a kill by the end. They'll chant for it. My friend warned me."
I shook my head, my pulse quickening.
"I can't. My brother will freak out if I don't show up for the final match."
"Just tell me where your seat is. I'll let him know you're taking a break."
"I'll just stay here for a bit. Thanks for helping, though."
Before he could say anything else, the announcer's voice echoed through the hall, calling the end of the break. The line surged forward, people eager to reclaim their seats.
"I've gotta go," he said, standing. "Take care, alright? By the way, I'm Simon."
I took his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip. "Belle."
He gave me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd. In a matter of minutes, I was alone. The noise from the arena faded just enough to give me a strange sense of peace. I let my hand rest on the cold floor behind me and closed my eyes, savoring the rare moment of quiet before the chaos began again.