Reyna Cabana walked off the platform with her back straight and her jaw set and her broken arm sending lightning bolts of pain from elbow to shoulder with every step.
She did not cry.
She did not wobble.
She did not look back at the Stray Dog standing in the center of the arena, holding that stupid bat like a scepter while twenty thousand people lost their collective minds.
Not once.
Takamura fell into step beside her as she entered the competitor's tunnel, his massive frame blocking the worst of the camera flashes. He said nothing. Good. If he said one word about how she fought well or how it was a good effort or how she should be proud of herself, she would electrocute him through the floor and accept whatever suspension came from it.
The tunnel swallowed the crowd noise. Concrete walls, fluorescent lights, the chemical smell of the medical station ahead. Reyna's combat boots left scuffs on the polished floor with each step, and every single scuff felt like a personal insult.
