My real heart—the one in my chest—thudded as I watched Eddie. I needed him to stay in the competition. I needed us both to. So far, there didn’t seem to be any cause to worry. He was clearly faster and stronger than most people out there, plus he had the seasoning and experience to make use of his gifts. Others, though strong, had no real skills and simply relied on brute force—which proved effective in some cases. I saw one guy slam a wooden plank into another’s knee, causing the victim to crumple in pain and scream as he fell. His attacker snatched away the victory heart, ignoring his opponent’s pleas for help in getting to Bart and first aid. Eddie happened to be passing by at the time and paused to help the fallen guy get to the bench.

Another guy—the one who’d let out the earlier primal scream—was also making pretty short work of his competition. His muscles bulged grotesquely, making me wonder if he took steroids or simply lived in a gym. He apparently had some fans in the audience, because they shouted his name each time he captured a heart. “Caleb! Caleb! Go, Caleb!”

Caleb flashed a malicious grin at his fans as he stormed through the arena, looking for new prey. Although his own strength was powerful unaided, he still sometimes utilized a cinder block as an asset. I wasn’t alone in gasping when he slammed it into some guy’s head, instantly knocking the guy to the ground. Caleb swept up the three hearts his victim wore and went on his way. Bart himself came out to drag the fallen back to the safety of the stands, and I didn’t really start breathing again until I saw the poor guy limply move an arm.

Two other guys had arrived together, like Eddie and me, and were teaming up to take out foes and split the hearts between them. It was a smart strategy, and I wished Eddie and I could’ve utilized it. The Warriors had some outdated hang-ups about men and women, and although there were female competitors, Sabrina had explained that girls in the Warriors were often kept out of the line of danger and relegated to milder roles. I wasn’t sure if I should applaud the Warriors for showing some sign of consideration or be offended that they didn’t think women could keep up with men in bloodthirsty brutality.

As the hour wound down, about half of the competitors were gone from the fray, off getting whatever medical attention Bart could administer. A few guys were clearly dominant: notably Eddie, Caleb, and the twosome. Those remaining were trying to pick off each other or go after one of the leaders. Chris shouted a five-minute warning, and one guy, desperately realizing he was nearly out of the running, made a frantic charge at Caleb in the hopes of securing a massive stash of hearts. Caleb knocked him away like he was a fly, then kicked him when he was down on the ground, despite the guy’s pleas to stop. “Just take them! Just take them!” The guy on the ground frantically tried to pull the hearts off his head and hand them over while Caleb just kept kicking. The nausea in my stomach reared up again until Caleb finally left the guy in peace. He stalked off, his gaze falling on Eddie, but thankfully, Chris called time just then. Everyone leaned forward, eager to find out the results.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb and Eddie had the most, followed by three other guys I hadn’t paid much attention to. The two who’d worked together were tied for the sixth-place spot. I wondered if the Warriors would accept seven victors, but after deliberating with the masters, Chris selected only one as the winner. He congratulated the other, encouraging him to try again next year. I hadn’t noticed the guy who’d won—Wayne—doing anything particularly different from his friend in fighting. Wayne was, however, much bigger and better built. Something told me the Warriors put a lot of emphasis on physical appearances, probably assuming that he who looked the strongest would be the strongest.

That didn’t bode well for me, because when the girls were called up—thirteen of us—it was clear I was the smallest and least buff-looking of them all. Things worsened when Chris announced that only two girls would advance and that they would be determined based on whoever had the most hearts at the end of the hour. Eddie and I exchanged brief glances across the arena at that. Two girls? That wasn’t much of a safety net, especially when it was imperative that I, more than Eddie, stick around to search out information about Jill’s whereabouts. He gave me a tight smile and nodded encouragingly, seeming to say, “Well, then, just make sure you’ve got the most hearts.”

Right. No problem.

Seeing the guys compete first had given us some sense of what the best strategy might be. We positioned ourselves in the arena, a number of the girls immediately moving toward potential weapons. I saw a few of them eye me, as the smallest, and I readied myself for defense. In some ways, I welcomed it, as that was what I’d focused on the most with Wolfe. But defense wouldn’t win me any hearts. I wasn’t violent by nature. Offense was second nature to Eddie, and he’d had an easier time slipping into that role.

Chris started the match, and chaos once again ensued. Two girls immediately headed for me. Blood pounded in my ears, and a cool sense of purpose slowly slid into place as I drew on all of Wolfe’s lessons. I stayed out of their reach, ducking their brutish and often clumsy advances. It seemed to frustrate them when I didn’t prove to be an easy victim, and eventually they got in each other’s way. With a snarl, they turned on each other, both falling into the dirt in a tangle of hitting and hair pulling. One emerged victorious, carrying the other’s heart, and charged toward me. Finally, I allowed myself to give in to the fight and astonished her with a punch that sent her stumbling backward as my magic-infused strength coursed through me. I had that same strange sense as before that the strength was both part of me and yet not part of me, but soon I fell into its rhythm. After a few more failed attacks, the girl yielded and gave me her hearts.

I looked around, uncertain of my next move. I knew I needed to just go up and attack someone, but it was still a weird and unfamiliar sensation. You’re playing a role, Sydney, I told myself. Get into it. Don’t feel bad—remember what these people are. What they might have done to Jill.

I was spared from choosing my next victim when another girl decided my earlier victory was a lucky break. A similar process followed, with me engaging in a long game of self-defense. The best fight is the one you avoid, Wolfe had always said. I led my foe on a merry chase, and when she finally grew impatient and lunged for me, I was able to trip her up and effectively pin her to the ground. Her ankle twisted as she went down, and I was able to take her heart with little resistance. It was also clear she was out of commission, and although I felt a little guilty about that, I was relieved to be responsible for an injury that would only require a little recuperation. Based on the screams of those around me, others wouldn’t be so lucky.