(**unedited** but when is it not so... it's a long-ish chapter, though, so hopefully that makes up for it if sentences don't make sense, oops. i hope you enjoy anyways. love you all xx)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EVELYN AWAKENS WITH A jolt of panic, feeling the empty space next to her in the bed. As soon as she darts upright, Max is there with a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with concern. She sighs in relief, though her nightmare haunts her still. Waking up believing she had been alone did not help the stress in her bones.

"Here," Max says, handing her an outfit. "The guards just gave us all outfits for today. Casual, from what I can see. Like we're going on a stroll through the gardens," he adds in a terrible British accent.

She can tell he's only trying to lighten the mood, so she shoves his chest playfully and slides out of bed, taking the outfit. "Maybe they'll offer us some scones and tea."

"I think that's just a stereotype."

Evelyn shrugs in reply.

She notices the three kids are already dressed, sitting on the bed they've designated as "theirs" and playing a weird hand clap game. Killian is dressed as well, staring at the window and scowling at the bars placed upon it.

Way to make your guests feel welcome,Wolf, she thinks bitterly to herself.

"There's a washroom across the hall," Max tells her, buttoning up the last couple buttons on his fresh shirt. "Just knock on the door and tell the guards."

Evelyn groans but bites her tongue, refraining from speaking her thoughts. She hates feeling like an animal, a prisoner. Almost like she's a toddler having to ask to go to the restroom. It's insufferable and belittling.

Nonetheless, she wants to take advantage of the shower, as bad as that may sounds. She has no idea when she might get another, or how filthy she'll be at the end of the day, if there's going to be a bloodbath like she expects. So she knocks on the door, grumbles that she needs the washroom, and she hears the lock click open before she's facing four guards. One grabs her forearm and drags her out, pushing her into the washroom directly in front of their room.

She takes her time in the shower, the hot water feeling too good to part with. She washes her hair twice, though she had a shower yesterday, and she tries to absorb the feel of the mint shampoo in case it's months until she has her next head wash. She can never be too sure nowadays, despite how often she tries to clean herself.

She gasps when she sees a razor, almost squeals. She never thought she would miss shaving her legs until she couldn't do it anymore. She has to run over her legs a good four times before they feel decently smooth, and she rubs her hands up and down them a while, relishing in the feeling. She'll have to make Max feel them. She used to always do that back at home because, since she rarely ever shaved, she always felt accomplished when she did. Plus, shoving her leg in his face always annoyed him and what's better than annoying your sibling?

She smiles to herself and reluctantly steps out, drying off and then wrapping the towel around her. She can't stop rubbing her legs together. She almost laughs at herself. She wrings out her hair, tousling it around to get it mostly dry, but it'll be hours until it dries fully on its own. She doesn't mind. It'll allow her to hang onto this cleanliness a little longer.

There's a fist pounding at the door. "Hurry up in there!"

"How rude," she tuts, loud enough for the guard to hear. "You have no idea about the business a lady has to go through when showering."

She hears the guard choke, whether on a laugh or his own spit she can't tell. It makes her chuckle anyways.

"J-just hurry up," he snaps after a long moment.

"Careful, or I'll be sure to be extra slow."

She hears him huff.

She doesn't take her time, though she considers it just to aggravate him. She slips the clean t-shirt over her head, the v-neckline offering airflow but the material soft and comfortable. She tugs up the jeans next, not wanting to know how they guessed her size perfectly, and then she pulls on the clean socks and her own combat boots. She'll never part with them, not with how convenient they are when hiding weapons.

She wishes she had her dagger to feel it's weight for comfort, but she'll have to steal one, probably. She doubts Wolf will give them any weapons.

She braids her wet hair over her shoulder before opening the door, the steam long since gone. The guards grumbles under his breath before snatching her out and throwing her back into the room.

"Oh, kind guard, when will we be leaving?" she asks sardonically, batting her lashes innocently. She thinks she hears Max snort behind her, but it might have been Killian.

"When I'm good and ready," he bites back. "Now shut up and behave."

"Did Wolf give any of you an etiquette class? Your manners could use some work."

The guard slams the door in her face.

"Bravo," Killian remarks from where he still sits on the bed.

"Nice to know you can still piss the hell out of someone," Max adds in, grinning. "I'm glad I'm not the recipient, for once."

"Speaking of," Evelyn mutters, bending down to roll up her pant leg. She walks over to where Max sits and props her foot on his knee. "Feel the soft heavenliness."

Max groans and pushes her leg away. "Can't we leave that habit behind?"

"Are you kidding? I haven't shaved in months! What's that saying? Right. My legs are as soft as a baby's butt!"

"Feeling baby butts is very much frowned upon," Max says.

"Come on," she says. "Don't you want to feel the soft heavenliness?"

Killian sits forward on the bed and she holds her leg up. His eyes widen. "That is soft heavenliness."

Evelyn wiggles her eyebrows at Max. "See?"

"You're such an idiot, Evie."

It isn't long before Maxie, Robbie, and Caroline rush forward and feel her leg. She laughs because it tickles, but also because of how weird this is. How immature. She can't remember the last time she acted this carefree, despite how dire their current situation is. It's nice to not think about it, though, if only for a few moments.

She tugs her pant leg back down and stands straight just as the bedroom door open again. "Let's go," the same grouchy guard huffs.

Robbie whispers to Caroline, though everyone can hear, "I think feeling Eve's soft leg would do his mood some good."

Evelyn can't help but to bust out laughing, so does Max and Killian while Caroline and Maxie giggle. The guard's face flushes and Robbie seems confused on why everyone had been laughing. He was being honest.

The four guards walk quickly down the hall. One holds Evelyn, one holds Killian, one holds Max, and one even holds Maxie since she's older. Robbie and Caroline follow with no other choice, huddling close together. Evelyn sees them holding hands and her heart swells. She won't let anything happen to them. She won't.

She purses her lips during the escort, her nerves finally getting the better of her and erasing any traces of playfulness she had earlier. She doesn't want to know what the three experiments endured in just a night. She's positive Wolf wouldn't have let them sleep. She doesn't want to know what sort of torture was inflicted upon them. She doesn't want to watch any of them die.

Stop it, she snaps to herself. None of them will die.

First, she's going to have to save these three and then she'll find Sasha, Erik, and Locke. Sasha is her main priority, though she does miss seeing the other two, but Sasha is a child. Erik and Locke are adults. She knows well enough Sasha can very much handle herself, but she would never forgive herself if she allowed Sasha to stay here a moment longer than necessary. Especially not to fight in some pointless, pitiful war.

When the group ducks outside, Evelyn squints against the sunlight and her heart thunders louder with anticipation. She can hear a crowd cheering in the distance. She tries to look around for the source, but it's only the tall building Wolf and his comrades reside in. Then, though, they dip around the corner and behind the building, and it's like Evelyn is transported to another world entirely.

There's huts and cabins and thrown-together houses scattered everyone, along with a couple brick buildings that seem to be dormitories. She gapes at the miniature society, her nose instantly aching with the pungent smell. She can't determine if it's the stench of blood or corpses, but it's undoubtedly both. The area is completely void of people, but she guesses they've all gathered to watch their leader's play.

That's when the dome comes into view, a massive space that appears to have once been a stadium. Evelyn swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. Wolf is not messing around. When he said he was going to give her a show, he damn well meant it.

She hadn't realized she'd stopped walking until the guard yanks her forward to keep moving.

She sees people still filing into the stadium on one side, but the guards lead them to the opposite side in through a back door. She counts four flights of steps that they ascend before reaching a large wooden door with steel handles. They're ushered inside, only to find Wolf sitting in a grand chair that must be acting as a throne. Evelyn would roll her eyes if she weren't so confused.

She notices they're on a balcony; the best view in the place.

"Glad you all could make it," Wolf says without turning around. "Have a seat anywhere you'd like."

"Does that mean I can go back outside, then?"

Wolf glances over her shoulder at her and smirks. "Why don't you sit next to me, Miss Eve?"

Assuming that's not a question, she begrudgingly does so if only so he won't make things harder on Harry. He grins in satisfaction, like he can read her mind. Max sits next to her, then Killian, and the three kids sit on the floor in front of them, scared to be any farther away. Evelyn absentmindedly runs her hand through Robbie's tangled hair that's still wet from his own shower, and he grabs her hand to hold it in his.

"I think you'll be quite pleased, honestly," Wolf tells her. "I've got a surprise for the end as well."

"Full of surprises, aren't you?" she mutters.

He winks at her. "Surprises are my specialty."

Evelyn notices Maxie breathing heavy. She leans forward and asks softly, "Maxie, are you okay?"

Maxie struggles to nod, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles are white.

Evelyn passes it off as her not wanting to be here. She doesn't blame her.

"Time to start," Wolf says, standing tall as he straightens the tie to his suit. His wardrobe is definitely full of them, then.

He steps up to the edge, and it would be so easy to push him over if her guard didn't have a hand on her shoulder, like he knew her thoughts. So she sits on her hands, a much easier way to stifle the urge to start a fight. She's unarmed, anyways, or else she'd entertain the idea more seriously.

Wolf is given a microphone, and the crowd roars when they see him. Evelyn is surprised he doesn't have a large crown on to push the image of his power. She's thankful he doesn't--she might have thrown up otherwise.

"Thank you, thank you," Wolf says, bowing his head respectfully. He's an incredible actor. "It's my honor to hold this event for all of you."

Event. As if it's a school drama play rather than a cold-blooded slaughter.

"We're going to bring out the traitors in a few minutes, but I decided to make things a little more interesting. Instead of a quick execution, it's been agreed that these three deserve much worse than that."

The crowd cheered on cue.

"I have asked my best soldiers to fight them individually, to the death. If they are somehow able to beat my most incredible fighters, well, do not fret. I have a plan for that also.

"So, without further ado, bring forth the first traitor!"

Just as Wolf wants, the crowd boos as Micah is tossed into the middle of the concrete floor. Evelyn can just barely make out his features from the balcony, his eye purple and bruised, multiple cuts along his face. His shirt is off, bearing all of his scars to the audience, both from the past and from last night with Wolf's psychopathic assistants. Though each of his new marks are healing, since he has been starved and dehydrated, his abilities are weak. One nice cut on him could bleed him dry.

Killian inhales sharply at the sight, leaning forward to clench the railing of the balcony. His eyes waver, but they do not water. Micah doesn't cower or spin in a confused circle. He glares right up at the balcony, right up at Wolf, with a clenched jaw and a stiff posture. He won't make this any more entertaining for him.

Evelyn feels her own heart pick up pace. There had been a time where she didn't think she would ever see Harry again, and she considered the idea of spending the rest of her life in this world with Micah. She would be kept at his camp, in that fancy bedroom with enough silk nightgowns to last her weeks without washing. Despite not seeing Harry again, it didn't seem so bad to be stuck with Micah. Not when his tough front was just that--a front--and he had good intentions. She probably would've started to like him as more than an ally.

So no, she does not want to see her friend die. Especially not like this.

There's a door under the balcony that Evelyn hears slide open creakily, like it's never been opened before, however, she can't see it. Micah's eyes narrow in on whoever emerges from the doorway, his hands balling into fists and his shoulders visibly rolling back. He seems to recognize the person, and he's not pleased at seeing their face.

The experiment is tall and bulky, like he injects steroids on the daily but Evelyn knows an experiment has no need for body-building drugs. There's an arrogant smirk on his face, his dark red eyes glinting when the sun reflects off them. He raises his arms proudly, the crowd obeying his command with a thunderous roar. Evelyn swallows a sudden lump in her throat. This guy is very popular among the people, which means he has a reputation.

Probably a bloody one.

"Ladies and gentleman, your favorite fighter, Knox!" Wolf says into the microphone, the audience still clapping and hollering like crazy.

Knox winks at Micah, which only makes Micah further narrow his eyes until it appears like he's squinting. Knox is tossed a sword, and he swiftly catches it with one hand by the hilt, twirling it like he's merely handling a large pencil. It spins tauntingly, the sunlight glaring off the blade.

Micah is tossed a sword as well, but he lets it land at his feet, pursing his lips in distaste. He said before he's never been one for weapons, that if you can't take someone down by your hands, you shouldn't be fighting them. Evelyn mentally screams at him to pick the damn sword up, though. He doesn't need to get as cocky as this Knox guy. Pride never wins.

Thankfully, Micah ducks down and grips the hilt, weighing the weapon in his hand. He frowns at it like he's disappointed.

The crowd falls deadly silent when Knox signals them to do so. He speaks loud enough for the entire stadium to hear clearly, though it almost sounds like he whispers the words, "I've waited for this day a long time, 752."

"You should've called me sooner if you were so eager to die," Micah replies calmly, seeming indifferent to Knox's menacing stare. "I would've gladly obliged."

Knox doesn't bother responding with words, instead he instantly lunges forward, bringing the sword down in the air so quickly it's practically a blue. Micah side steps and uses the hilt of his own sword to smack into the back of Knox's head. Knox stumbles, but swings around just as Micah goes to strike. Their swords clash, their back and arm muscles contracting, straining with the effort. Evelyn can see the tense muscles in both of their bare backs, twitching.

Micah plants his feet firmly against the concrete and pushes, shoving Knox backwards. He manages to get a swipe across Knox's torso, but only hard enough to draw blood rather than hurt him. Knox laughs darkly, popping his neck. He starts swinging his sword faster now, deadlier and full of rage. Micah jumps back until he's against the wall of the stadium opposite the balcony. Knox strikes the sword sideways, aiming for Micah's neck, but Micah ducks just in time and the sword scrapes against the cement of the wall. The people in the stands directly above it gasp, leaning backwards as if the sword could've possibly hit them.

Micah charges into Knox's knees, taking them both to the ground. He punches the inside of Knox's wrist, the one clutching the sword, and by reflex Knox lets it go. As it clatters to the ground, Micah picks it up and slings it across the stadium, then grabs his own. He presses the tip of the blade against the base of Knox's throat, hesitating.

That moment of hesitation gives Knox all the leverage he needs.

Knox knees Micah between the legs, then throws his elbow into Micah's cheek and flips the over. The two fight for the weapon, but Micah's grip holds firm. He kicks Knox in the stomach again and again, trying to knock the larger man off of him. He uses his free hand to dig his sharp nails in the side of Knox's neck, drawing dark blood. Knox grits his teeth, but shows no other sign of pain or weakness.

With his fingers still in Knox's neck, Micah throws Knox to the side, his head thumping hard on the concrete. Micah is quick to his knees, slamming Knox's head down again, then one more time for good measure. Knox blinks like he's seeing stars in his vision, fumbling to get his hands flat to push himself up.

Micah doesn't pause this time.

He drives the sword through Knoc's ribcage, right where Knox's heart is now slowly dying. If Evelyn didn't know Micah, she might not have seen the dread in his eyes or the sagging of his shoulders or the trembling of his body. She might not have noticed how much he hates this, or how he knows he'll have nightmares about it.

Micah leaves the sword buried in Knox's body, and uses it to help himself to his feet. He lifts his chin, blood that isn't his own marking his bare torso and his cheek. The crowd is silent, uncertainty rippling through them like a tidal wave.

No one speaks. No one dares utter the quietest of sounds.

Beside her, Wolf is trembling with rage in his pretend throne, his knuckles white as they grip the arms of the chair. Despite the scene that she just witnessed, Evelyn blatantly smirks. She looks over at Killian, who's grinning from ear to ear. The two meet each other's stare, and it's almost like a telepathic connection.

Simultaneously, both get to their feet and cheer, the two of their voices echoing throughout the enormous stadium.

However, Evelyn knows well enough that the show isn't over yet.