The Alpha King's Breeder
We’re starving, thirsty, and covered in stinking dried blood.
Our escape will come, but not now, not when Meg is on the verge of passing out.
“Listen,” Chessie says, looking up at the ceiling. The room rumbles, vibrating violently. “The platforms are lowering again. This round is over.”
Seventeen rounds. Seventeen victors.
Twenty, counting us.
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