SAMANTHA
I woke up gasping for air and my hand immediately flew to my throat. The skin was tender and bruised and I could still feel the phantom pressure of Molly's fingers wrapped around my neck. My eyes darted around the room and I realized I was still in the resting room. The torch had burned lower and the shadows were longer and the air was colder than before.
Someone had saved me. Someone had pulled Molly off me. Someone had kept me alive.
But who?
I tried to sit up and pain shot through my body. My ankle throbbed and my muscles screamed and my head pounded with a dull ache that would not go away. I pressed my palm against my forehead and I tried to remember what had happened. But the memories were fuzzy and fragmented and I could not piece them together.
The door creaked open and I tensed. A guard stepped inside and he looked at me with cold eyes. His voice was flat and emotionless.
"Up," he said. "The second round is about to begin. You need to be in the arena."
