CHAPTER 1
The not-so-distant future…
Lucha! Lucha! Lucha!Fight! Fight! Fight!
The roar of the crowd thundered through me. Thousands surrounded us, cheering and jumping to their feet in an undulating wave of anticipation. With its jagged walls and crumbling tunnels, the dilapidated coliseum shook from the weight of the mob’s hunger. The masses had traveled for days to witness the bloody competition. To witness my destruction. I could feel their greed, their need for distraction from the tedium and cruelty of life.
People are the worst.
I took my time and checked out more than a hundred racers, the finest in New Angeles. I’d spent the last year fighting my way to The Trials, to stand right here atop this crowded stage. Clunky, old-school cameras lined the arena, whining and whirling as they zeroed in on various contestants. They recorded our every move as we interacted with one another. The twenty-four-hour hum had become one of the few constants of my life. Someone was always watching.
Where is she?
I tapped the fleshy part of my palm to access my vid-phone. A grainy hologram floated over my palm, displaying a smiling image of my sister, but it never transitioned to the real-life version.
Ay mierda.She wasn’t picking up. Conscious of the all-seeing cameras, I scanned the stands from the side of my eye.Valentina was gone. Right before the most important race of our lives.Typical.My coital-ready sister got distracted far too easily by a pretty face. I liked a random hook-up as much as the next girl, butnot now. I tapped my palm and ended the call.
The two-minute warning blared through the colosseum.
I hyper-focused on the race, resisting the urge to flex my shoulder. The damn thing ached constantly, but I couldn’t let them see me sweat.Icontrolled the narrative. The better part of my life revolved around crafting a very public and verywickedpersona. Being “nice” was not in the job description. I didn’t love all the hate that came my way, but it kept the masses entertained and my sister and I alive, so I leaned into mybichotaenergy whenever it was time to race. By the time I made it to the front of the stage, most of the other racers were smart enough to jump out of the way.
Only a few were too cocky, or stupid, to move.
I glanced at my competition and stifled a groan. My worst nightmare appeared. Two of them, actually. Racers who’d battled as long as I had: Nieve and Querida. They paced along the front of the platform.
Is it too much to ask that they be run over by a bus?
“S-sorry.” One of the overeager newbies startled when she bumped into me.
I cocked my head to the side and took her measure, mildly surprised when she met my eye. Not many of us topped six feet. By the look of her scar-free skin, she was brand spanking new with lots of potential.
Time to make a new friend.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to move.” I gestured toward the front of the platform—the best place to launch from and the closest point to the first obstacle.
“I don’t?” Her eyes bugged out of her head. “Why not?”
“Because it’s obviously your first race. We all have to look out for each other, right?” A pang of regret lanced through me. The twitchy fighter looked as innocent as my sister. But nice girls finished… dead. It was a lesson every racer would have to learn.
Time to teach my first class.
“You may want to reconsider trusting ‘Hera the Horrible.’ She’s a pathological liar.” Nieve, my nemesis, and a totalperfectprincess, at least in her own mind, delivered every line with a smile. “Right, Querida?”
Querida smirked and nodded while she played with her constant companions, two lightweight throwing knives. The only time she parted with the deadly blades was during a race.
“Trust us.” Nieve petted the Newbie’s hand, feigning concern. The seasoned fighter’s snow-white tattoos were a striking contrast against the jewel-tones of her brown skin. The glittering sleeves covered her hands and most of her forearms. “If lying were a job, she’d be worth billions.”
They aren’t lying.But I shrugged their comments off with a grin. As myabuelataught me at a young age,Smile. It confuses people.I leaned toward the newbie and whispered loud enough so everyone could hear, “Ignore her. She’s old and cranky. Word on the street is she never swallows.”
“Neverswallows? What does that even mean?” the fresh-faced girl asked.
“It means she chokes. Every…single…time,” I whispered conspiratorially, making sure the cameras caught each word.
“You—” Nieve’s furious face froze when a pack of cameras zoomed in. Her tight features relaxed into a carefree mask. “Just remember, Newbie. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I don’t know if I should.” The blondie shuffled back.
Good girl.“You sure?”
