That's the thought that filled my mind as someone held me in place, cutting off my every movement. Tiredness and agony shivered in my bones, and I was close to collapsing, but I had an ounce of fire left in me.

My hands were locked down, but I knocked my head forward, smashing into someone's skull. Hard.

"Fuck," a masculine voice whispered, loosening their grip, but pushing me into a wall.

I swung my arms down, going in for a side punch, but a familiar voice called my name.

"Betinia. It's me." Khan.

"Khan?" I whispered, lowering my fist.

A soft click went off, and bright light flooded the area. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, intense brown eyes stared into mine. His chest pressed against me, face inches away.

"Umm... hi?" I said, never losing his gaze.

"Hello," he said, tone soft. He looked down and saw how close he was and backpedaled. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine —" I started but was cut off by the loud voices outside the door.

"Where is that bitch?" Gmie screamed through the door. "I want her now, Demo. NOW!"

My jaw hardened. Ooo I wanted to hurt her so bad. Just give me five minutes alone with her.

"I see you have some new fans," Khan said, walking over to the door and triple locking it before turning back to me.

"Yeah, stalker fans," I said, turning away from the door. I jerked back, gasping as I looked at the room.

His room was immaculate. How did I not notice this before?

My bedroom resembled a prison cell while his looked like a five-star hotel. A giant four-poster iron bed sat in the middle of the far wall with black and white silk sheets, blending with the steel-colored walls. Adjacent to the bed was a fridge and stove.

A large television mounted the left wall, surrounded by an entertainment system filled with high-tech devices. And the whole right wall displayed three movie-size computer screens. A glass desk and comfy chair sat in front of them.

Duke skipped around in circles on the soft black carpeting before jumping on the bed, settling in.

"Duke," I said, trying to get him off.

Khan waved me off. "It's alright. My dog sleeps in bed with me at home."

"Okay. Umm... thanks for saving me," I said, watching him walk away from the door. That's when I noticed his attire. His tight white shirt and jeans were covered in thick crimson. My blood.

My eyes glanced down at myself, seeing all the thick gashes that marred my skin. All dripping down my arms and onto the carpet. The pain started to become more intense, making me shiver.

"Sorry for the mess," I said, staggering.

He caught me in his arms, holding me close. "It's okay," he said, voice calm as he led me over to a black recliner in the corner. "I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier. I heard some noises, but I wasn't sure until I looked at the cameras and saw you surrounded by them. Before I could leave, you were already running my way, so I grabbed you before you could pass by."

Quick bursts of scalding pain accelerated up my forearms and legs. I panted, fighting it. "T-thanks for that. I don't think my legs could've made it much farther."

He didn't say anything. Just helped me sit in the chair and then went to the tall dresser near the bed. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a massive briefcase-size First Aid kit.

Sitting the First Aid kit by my feet, he bent down in front of me. "It's no problem," he said at last. "I'm just surprised that she started in on you so fast. The pact just ended." Putting on some gloves, he grabbed a cloth, dabbing it at my cuts, trying to get them to stop.

His movements made prickling pins shoot up my arms like a lightning bolt. I hissed.

"It's not that shocking. You don't know how much Gmie hates me," I said before letting out another noise because he started to slather my cuts in peroxide. "And I still don't understand why. Because I won one challenge? That's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he said, leaning back. "You're a threat to her."

"A threat?"

He laughed, a nice deep sound that reminded me of a bass, and almost dropped the bottle of peroxide.

"What?" I said, confused.

He continued laughing for a second before wiping his eyes and looking at me, really looking at me. "You really don't get it."

"Get what?"

"That all of this is a competition. A game."

"I know that," I said, motioning around, hurting my arms in the process. "Trust me, I do. This game has been torturing me since I got here."

"You're still not getting it, though," he said, dropping the peroxide back in the kit and grabbing a large tube. "We all want to win. To survive. And you're one of the biggest threats here."

"Me?" I blinked at him. "Fee is a fucking giant. Gmie's good at manipulating people. Chi too. Everyone loves Sebastian—"

"And you keep figuring shit out," he interrupted. "You see the world in a different way. That's a skill too. And you're unreadable."

"Seriously? You perfected the blank face."

He chuckled. "True, but everyone can still get a sense of who I am. Not you, though. You're quiet, and then you're loud. Or you're polite and nice and then just plain savage. Look at what you said to Gmie tonight."

That was all Tini. "She deserved it."

"And the way you cut open that body in the first challenge." He eyed me. "Like you enjoyed it. Like it was almost ecstasy."

There was no judgment in his eyes. Just interest. Curiosity.

I didn't know what to say, so I went with the safe normal answer. "You're exaggerating. I was just trying to survive and get the right piece."

"Still, you looked psychotic as shit but badass," he said before giving me a warm smile. "But then, you turned back into this quiet nice girl. People don't get it, which makes you hard to read which makes you a threat."

He opened the tube in his hand. "Your cuts are deep and sewing them shut will hurt. I can glue them shut instead. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, whatever works," I said, nodding. "I also got shot with a BB Gun."

"Those are probably not too bad," he said, applying warm glue to my cut and then scrunching my skin closed. "Probably just needs a cleaning and a bandage."

The glue felt weird, and the scrunching of my skin made the cut blaze even more, but I breathed out, panting through it. "Why are you helping me if I'm such a threat? Shouldn't you have let me die?"

His beautiful brown eyes peered up at me as his hands continued to work on my cuts. "Because I'm a gentleman."

That answer made me laugh, and then we both began to laugh together. It was nice. He was... easy to be around.

After he finished closing one cut, he went to the next one on my bicep, which hurt like a bitch. Since I was in so much pain, I forgot about the gash I got in the kitchen earlier on my side, so he had to clean and close that one too. That one was the worst. I almost passed out.

Once he finished closing them all, he placed large waterproof bandages over them. "Where did the BBs hit you?" he asked, sitting back on his knees.

"On the back of my legs and arm," I said.

Getting up off the floor, he cleaned the tiny blooded spot where the BB hit my arm and put a bandage over it. "You're going to have to strip if you want me to clean the ones on your legs."

Strip? My cheeks warmed like fresh cinnamons buns coming out of the oven. "Huh?"

He laughed. "I don't think you can clean them yourself, but if you want to try I can go to the bathroom—"

I shook my head. "No. I can't really reach it — and I don't want an infection."

Wobbling to a standing position, thick strands of pain rocketed through my body, and he grabbed me before I tumbled to the floor.

"You okay?" he asked, face close to mine as he clutched me to his chest.

"Umm... yeah," I said, nodding really fast. Too fast. Stop it.

Dark amusement danced in his eyes before he let me go and turned around, waiting for me to strip.

This was embarrassing. No one besides family had ever seen me in my underwear. Not even Jonathan.

Stop it. None of this is sexual. Khan is being a nice person by offering to clean your wound. Not everyone would do that.

True.

Thankfully, I wasn't wearing granny panties, but the lacy ones Sebastian got me. Thank you, Sebastian.

Grabbing the top of my sweatpants, my hands slid them down my legs, wincing as the thick cotton material brushed against my wounds.

I coughed, signaling to him that he could turn around. Utter blankness decorated his symmetrical face and deep eyes, never showing any hint of anything. No emotion. No feeling.

"Bend over," he said, voice emotionless.

Ah what?

♟♙♟