Millie dropped to her knees and desperately tried to fit her hand under the fence to grab the medical kit, however, the metal pole that ran along the base prevented anything from coming in or going out.

I pulled out the last protein bar in my makeshift pocket and handed her the wrapped treat. The high-octane music continued bumping through the speakers as they showcased the arena all while Millie removed the plastic wrapper to break a piece.

"Good boy," she whispered to the large rat as she worked the morsel through the chain-linked gap. "Don't bite me, you little bandit." The rat sniffed the air around her fingertips, and like a loyal pet, took the treat between his large front teeth with no issue.

He sat back, its long, whip-like tail encircled his body as he used his front fingered paws to nibble the granola into his mouth.

In the arena, the brothers and Sonya made their way further inside and farther away from the perimeter. "Something's happening," I murmured, glancing back to see if Millie was paying attention.

She wasn't. Instead, she was too occupied with the rat. "I wonder what else he could sniff out for us."

"They're moving further away." I looked back to the screen as the host appeared again.

"And there you have it, folks," Chuck's enthusiasm was overinflated. "What a magnificent set, yes?" The audience cheered.

The plastic wrapper crinkled as Millie fit the remaining bar inside the sleeve of her jumpsuit. And just as she was about to turn, the rat quickly scurried away after getting startled by the Wolfman who galloped along the perimeter of the fence toward us.

Its vicious growl sent the rat running back to where it came.

The red from the medical pack seized the Wolfman's attention. He sniffed it with his sunken snout. When he reached for it, Millie gasped in frustration.

"What's he doing?" Millie pointed. "We need that."

The Wolfman sat back on its muscular hind legs, the knee and hip joints popped and cracked. His legs, thick with sinewy muscle and covered in coarse fur, flexed with every movement, showcasing the raw power beneath the surface. Clawed feet dug into the ground, leaving deep impressions in the dirty straw.

His sunken eyes fixed on Millie. "Little pig," he growled.

"Forget it." Millie backed away, flattening her body against the rear of our cage. "I don't need it."

"Little pig," he started again. His voice rumbled from his throat like the engine of a mac truck. "Let me in." With a strong arm, he lifted the pouch and hurled it at the fence. The contents within shattered with a sharp, splintering sound as it dropped to the floor.

"Looks like we have a show before the show, ladies and gents!" the host's voice boomed through the speakers. "Let's tune in." The area fell deathly silent, and a surge of fear raced through me at the thought of what might appear on the screen behind me. Yet, my curiosity wasn't that strong as my eyes refused to stray from the furious beast in front of me.

He pushed forward, crawling on all fours toward the barrier between us. His breaths were deep and heavy, rumbling through his bared teeth from the pit deep within his gut. "Let me in."

His meaty, clawed fingers entangled with the fence and he warped it with the weight of his body. It bowed as he attempted to rip the fence from its posts. I didn't doubt he could if he continued to try.

I haven't seen Millie so scared since entering the game. The whites in her eyes were visible as she allowed a frightening whimper to escape her lips. "He's gonna kill us!"

The prolonged distress caused the fence to curve and no longer give me the confidence that it could protect us. "Tommy?" I called out.

With his fingers still threaded through the holes, he paused and stared. The black gums surrounding his large, canine fangs were no longer visible, once again hidden beneath the unsettling skin around his mouth.

"Tommy Miller?" I stared into his dark eyes, searching for that look of recognition. His head cocked like a confused pet. "You know who you are, don't you? You're the Grimm Game's hero, remember?"

His claws scraped against the metal links as he dropped back on all fours. His eyes narrowed, revealing a distinctly human quality within him.

Millie gasped. "That's him!"

I nodded, keeping my sights on the creature before us. "Easy there." I put my hands up to show I wasn't a threat. "I don't want to hurt you. Remember who you are, Tommy?" He cocked his head again, listening, analyzing. "You won these Games already. You don't have to play anymore. You've won."

We watched one another, studying the details that marked us as human and monster. As if each of us wondered how much of the other we carried within ourselves.

"A strange interaction indeed." Chuck's voice broke through the silence and startled the beast, causing him to look toward the nearest speaker.

However, a faint melodic tune hovered in the air and as it hit my ears the Wolfman sauntered back toward the safe zone with his head dangling low. I glanced at Millie for confirmation she heard the music too, but there was no mention of it.

Strange.

I peered at the distant shadows for a glimpse of the enigmatic Piper and her ornate flute, but only saw the silhouette of straw stacks looking back.

"Looks like the Big Bad Wolf is off to search for easier pickings," Chuck chuckled, causing my stomach to twist in knots at the implication.

My heart swelled and sank for Jade. I needed to get out of this cage to be there for her. The sooner the challenge was over, the quicker I could return to Jade's side.

"This is an example of why you must stay vigilant in the Grimm Games, because anything can happen at any time, folks." Chuck did his infamous chuckle and the audience followed suit, laughing on cue as if an applause sign lit up in the studio. "Now in Burning Bridges, our three contestants will have fifteen minutes to make it across the pit using the unsecured planks to their benefit. But there's two problems they must overcome, there's only two planks.

"There will also be various obstacles thrown on their path for good measure. Everyone who makes it safely to the other side of the pit will succeed in the challenge and get one step closer to the twenty-million-dollar jackpot.

"You absolutely can win alone, however, if your competitor happens to get caught by the traps or takes a tumble into the play den of the Troll, you may have a difficult time getting to your destination alone. It's not impossible, but with only twenty minutes on the clock, it may prove a bit difficult.

"Players, Dylan the Sick, Spencer the Fixer, and Sonya the Babysitter, are you ready?" He didn't even wait for a response. "Let's get twenty minutes on the clock."

The automated voice chimed in, "Twenty minutes." The timer also appeared in the corner of the massive screen.

Chuck lifted the microphone to his lips and stared directly into the camera. "And...let's begin!"

My eyes were glued to the screen as I watched Dylan be the first to step onto the first plank, testing its durability with one cautious foot. Even from this distance, I could see the top part of them with the naked eye. They all were nervous and distrustful of the planks and their ability to support them.

The first plank stretched out six feet to a beam that crisscrossed the center of the pit, acting as a support. They would have to balance across the two-foot-wide wood to get to the next plank, pick up the last one, and place it properly over the beams ahead to continue toward the other side.

Dylan took a deep breath, his face a mask of concentration as he put his full weight on the plank. It held. He gestured to Spencer to follow, slowly inching his way forward. Each step was measured, deliberate. Sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening under the harsh lights of the arena. Spencer and Sonya watched him intently, their own fears mirrored in his careful movements.

He reached the beam and steadied himself, waiting for the others to join him. One by one, they crossed, each testing their balance and nerves against the narrow plank. Every now and then the cameras would focus on the stomping Troll in the pit below which seemed to stretch into an abyss, its depths promising a deadly fall for anyone who slipped.

As Sonya made her way to the beam, they easily strategized to move forward. This time, Sonya took charge shimmying to the head of the line. She picked up the next plank and positioned it, her hands shaking slightly. It took a few tries, but eventually, it was secured over the next set of beams.

But just as I let my guard down and believed they had it figured out, a noise echoed through the arena—a sharp, metallic clang followed by a low hum. The screen's perspective shifted, revealing the giant Troll with an object in his hand. It was difficult to make out some of the details, but the glint of metal was unmistakable.

A pitchfork.

Before anyone could react, the Troll hurled the pitchfork with terrifying accuracy. It sliced through the air, aimed directly at the group. "Play," the Troll growled. Dylan looked up to view the screen, but it was too late. The pitchfork struck him in the thigh to pierce the flesh and dislodge only to fall back into the pit.

The force of the impact sent him staggering back, but Spencer reached out to grab his arm and prevent his fall. Sonya was at the edge of the other board, and refused to leave her position.

A delayed gasp from the tense crowd echoed through the speakers. Even though Dylan hadn't fallen, his feet slipped on both sides of the plank. He crashed to his ass, causing the lumber to strike between his legs. He teetered on the wood, desperately fighting to keep his balance. The pain was evident in his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and held on, his fingers digging into the rough wood.

Spencer rushed to help, but his movements were hindered by his own precarious position. The planks creaked under the sudden shift in weight, and for a moment, it seemed like both might go tumbling into the pit below.

"Hang on, Dylan!" Spencer shouted, placing his arms out at his sides for balance.

Dylan's facial expression was a mix of agony and determination. He gripped the plank with one hand, using every ounce of strength and stability to pull himself back up. Blood flowed from the wound, staining the wood beneath him.

On screen, the crowd was on the edge of their seats, the silence in the arena deafening. Finally, Chuck spoke, "Is this it? Are we witnessing the end of the Jeffrey brothers duo?"

The urge to do anything other than watch overtook me, but being trapped in this human sized cage was fruitless.

"Come on, Dylan," I shouted. "Get up."

Sonya was already looking ahead, calculating her next move, and everything about her warned to not take your sights from her, especially as her eyes were staring off into the distance where what looked like a thick blanket of fog was rolling in.