Chuck Gillian's voice crackled through the speakers with a mocking seriousness.

"And just like that, folks, we bid farewell to our dear Spencer the Fixer. So close to the finish line, yet so tragically—predictably—short."

A black-and-white still of Spencer filled the screen, his determined face frozen in the moment before his downfall, and a bold red X slashed across it. "Ah, Spencer the Fixer," the host continued, a demeaning tone in his voice, "you fought valiantly, didn't you? A hero in your own right...until the Grimm Troll made its way into your heart." The audience reacted to his comment with laughter.

The screen flashed with highlights of Spencer's final moments, each image starker than the last.

As Spencer's face flashed on the massive screen one last time, along with Tobias and Dylan's, it was crossed out in a brutal red X and Millie didn't waste a second. She climbed over the Troll's gutted corpse and the tangle of splintered trees, moving quickly toward the other trail. Her eyes darted back at me, filled with suspicion and a bit of worry, but she kept going.

I stumbled after her, trying not to register the bruises and cuts marking my arms and hands. The black splatter covering me blended into the chaos around me and I was unsure if it came from me or from the spatters surrounding us.

I glanced back one last time at Spencer, his body curled around the spear, mirroring the way his brother had been curled up in the same fetal position, as if in death they'd found the same tragic pose. There was no doubt he had fought hard. But with a quiet farewell to our fallen partner, I pushed past the foul stench of the Troll's remains and followed Millie.

The Witch was nowhere in sight, possibly deciding to turn back and away from the slaughter.

The host's voice boomed, dripping with excitement, but I shut it out. Millie moved fast, determined, her eyes locked on the path ahead. We rushed through the moss-covered trail until we reached a clearing where all the exits joined.

Millie froze. At the other side of the clearing stood Sonya, her body curved like a predator ready to strike. Even from this distance, I heard her growl.

"I guess this is it, huh?" Millie shouted across the clearing. Her voice was steady, but the fire in her eyes burned hotter than ever. "The inevitable."

Sonya's voice was a furious snarl. "I'll kill you."

Millie didn't flinch. "You can try, but you won't succeed. Not like they did with your brother."

That hit a nerve. Sonya's pace slowed, her face darkening with rage. "Unlike you, Tobie is too smart to let this game take him."

Millie shook her head. "They killed him, Sonya. The real him. Gunshot to the head. We saw it."

Sonya's steps came to a halt a few feet away. Doubt flickered in her eyes, but fury still simmered beneath. "You lying bitch. You think that'll stop me from tearing you apart?"

"Bring it!" Millie's voice cracked through the clearing, sharp and unexpected. "Arcanum shot your brother in cold blood just as he was about to shut this whole thing down. They left him slouched in a chair in the control room for us to find."

Sonya's face twisted with rage, her pale skin flushing red, chest heaving with each angry breath.

Millie didn't back down. "You want a fight?" Her eyes locked onto Sonya. "We can finish this once and for all. Right here, right now."

"No!" I shouted, the weight of the moment hitting me.

Millie's hand shot up, silencing me without a glance. "I got this, sis." She spat a wad of saliva to the ground. "Let's give them the show they want. Bare hands."

Sonya didn't hesitate. She hurled her knife to the ground and, before I could even move, charged at Millie. The distance between them vanished in a second.

Before I could blink, Sonya's fists slammed into Millie's gut, each strike landing harder than the last.

Millie retaliated, her fists snapping out with a surprising fury, jabs and hooks I never knew she had in her. One blow cracked against Sonya's jaw, enough to stun her for a heartbeat.

But it wasn't enough. Sonya, fueled by something darker than rage, kept coming. Her fists were relentless, forcing Millie back as her breath came out in ragged bursts. Millie staggered from a vicious hit to the ribs, clutching her side, gasping for air. But Sonya didn't slow, instead her teeth gnashed at Millie as she raised her fist for the next strike.

That wild flicker in Sonya's eyes told me she wasn't going to stop. Not until Millie was just another body. Another casualty for the Games.

And then it happened. A sharp ringing in my ear, a moment of pure rage surged through every vein in my body. I couldn't hold it back. Before I realized it, I threw myself between them, my muscles moving on instinct. Anger swallowed me whole, my body tense, fists clenched.

The screen loomed in the distance, flashing images of the host with his smug grin. His voice blended into the chaos, the cheers, the taunts, the relentless noise from the speakers. But none of it mattered anymore. All I could see was Sonya. Everything else faded into static, white noise that I barely registered.

My vision tunneled, narrowing in on Sonya as I stepped toward her, my blood boiling. The air buzzed with tension, and before I knew it, my fists tightened at my sides.

Before Sonya could strike again, I threw myself between them. My heart pounded in my ribcage, pulsed in my ears, and throbbed in my palms as I squeezed my fists tighter. Millie collapsed behind me, clutching her side, but I couldn't check on her. There was no time.

Sonya's gaze snapped to me, and I knew the same fury that coursed through my veins had also consumed her. She swung at me with no hesitation, and I met her blow for blow, fists flew faster and harder than I anticipated. My mind blurred, suddenly replaced by an intense need to fight. Each punch I threw sent a shockwave through my arm, and I didn't even flinch at the pain. I wanted to hurt her.

No, I needed to.

Sonya didn't speak, didn't taunt, just snarled as we clashed, our bodies a mess of fists, kicks and fury. The more we fought, the more it felt like my mind was slipping further into a void. Her fists struck my jaw, my nose, my side, but I didn't care. I couldn't care. My muscles burned, but that anger pushed me forward.

I threw a wild punch that connected with Sonya's cheek, snapping her head to the side. She reeled back for only a second before charging at me like an animal, slamming me into the ground. Pain shot through my back, but I somehow managed to get back on my feet.

Every punch felt less like my own, every strike came from an emotion I couldn't rein in. Sonya, too, seemed locked in a spiral of anger, each hit landing with a ferocity that could only come from someone lost to their rage.

It wasn't just a fight anymore. It was something darker, something primal that neither of us could control.

I roared, swiping through the air with another strike, unaware of the black ooze smeared on my knuckles, or where it originated. I didn't care. I lunged at Sonya again, the world narrowing to her alone, to the fight that was pulling me deeper into something I could no longer stop.

And she came at me with equal ferocity. There was no end in sight. Only violence.

Millie's strained voice finally cut through the static fog in my brain, and I finally registered her pleas. "Use your knife, Kam. The knife!"

I reached for the blade attached to my cuff, but before I could even grip it, the world flipped. Suddenly I was on my back on the ground staring at the rafters above and the dozens of fixed lights that glared down at us, reminding me this was all part of the twisted set we were trapped in.

Then the fabric of my jumpsuit strained as I was yanked up and hurled like a rag doll. Again, my body slammed into the ground, skidding far past where Millie had fallen.

My head spun as I tried to pull myself together, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue. But through my confusion, I spotted Sonya stomping toward me, fists clenched and eyes wild with fury. She was coming for me, until Millie's voice cut through the chaos like a machete.

"Look at you," Millie spat, her voice strained but unyielding. "First, you let them kill your brother, and now you've become their monster. You proud of yourself?"

Sonya's face contorted, her rage flickering for a moment into something darker, deeper. Then, without warning, she pounced like a wildcat, straddling Millie and pinning her to the ground on her back. Millie struggled beneath her, but Sonya's grip was overpowering, fueled by blind fury.

I tried to shout, to call out, to draw Sonya's wrath back toward me. But all that escaped my throat was an enraged, guttural grunt. My hands clawed at the ground, trying to push myself up, but it felt like I was trapped inside my own body. My muscles strained against an invisible force that burned through me like wildfire.

I was still just the puppet, yet the master of my anger still held the strings.

Millie's face twisted in pain, but her voice stayed steady. "If only you could see yourself, Sonya. Tobias would've never let this happen. He fought for your family, for all of us. But you let them kill him. And now you're just another one of their monsters."

Sonya froze, her eyes peered through the curtain of loose black strands. Her fist trembled in the air, ready to strike but not yet falling. For a moment, her fury faded, and something deeper cut through the rage. She flinched, her lips parting like she wanted to respond, but couldn't.

"He was stronger than this," Millie went on, each word strategic like a well-placed punch. "Baby Abigail would've looked up to him. Not the thing you've become."

The mention of her niece did something to Sonya. Her whole body sagged as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. "Abigail..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

I pushed myself off the ground, still fighting the weight of whatever darkness was inside me, but it was like trying to pull myself out of a pit. Sonya stayed still, her shoulders hunched, broken in ways that had nothing to do with the fight.

But emerging from the shadows behind her, the Witch crept forward—silent, careful, her razor-sharp fingernails curved like claws. Her hollow eyes locked on Sonya, her lips twisted in a sick grin. She was like a shadow herself, creeping through the chaos, her long fingernails twitching with anticipation.

My mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. I wanted to call out Millie's name to warn her, but I couldn't force the words through. My throat clenched, my body weak and heavy as bricks.

But even as the increasing stench of moldy dough wafted through the air, Sonya didn't flinch. She just stayed there, staring at Millie.

Finally, words escaped her lips in a barely audible whisper that doubled as a silent prayer, "For Abigail."

The Witch struck in an instant. Her long, sharp fingernails pierced through the back of Sonya's neck with a wet, sickening sound. The nails emerged through the front of her throat. Dark blood gushed out in waves. Sonya's body jerked, her eyes widening in shock, then darkening as the life drained out of her.

She didn't resist. She let the Witch take her while the irises of her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

The Witch grinned with vengeance, her nails twisting further into Sonya's throat, relishing in the kill. Then the Witch yanked her claws free, leaving Sonya's lifeless body to collapsed over Millie like a discarded doll.