Book 16: To the Victor Goes Nothing

Lexa

Meg groans as I wrap a length of leather torn from my dress around her mangled upper arm. Chessie kneels nearby, tearing into her dress, dried blood crinkling off her knuckles in crimson flakes. She hands me another length of leather, but her eyes tell me the truth of the matter. Meg’s in bad shape.

She closes her eyes, leaning her head against the grimy wall of the room we were thrown into several hours ago, but we’re together, at least.

“She needs to eat something,” Chessie whispers over the soft hum of the battle taking place above our heads. Another Culling. Sixteen so far, not including ours. The rounds take mere minutes to complete. Only five or six hours have passed, I’d guess, since our round ended.

No one has come to see us, to feed us or give us water. No medical supplies have been offered. We’ve been alone, trying to stop Meg from bleeding out.

I shake my head at Chessie with a sigh. “There’s nothing we can do as it stan