Countdown
3 seconds left to live.Once the countdown starts, it cannot be stopped.2 pawns thrown into a brutal underground reality game. Kira Jordan survived her family’s murder and months on plague-devastated city streets with hard-won savvy and a low-level psi ability. She figures she can handle anything. Until she wakes up in a barren room, chained next to the notorious Rogan Ellis.1 reason Kira will never, ever trust Rogan. Even though both their lives depend on it. Their every move is controlled and televised for a vicious exclusive audience. And as Kira's psi skill unexpectedly grows and Rogan’s secrets prove evermore deadly, Kira’s only chance of survival is to risk trusting him as much as her instincts.Even if that means running head-on into the one trap she can’t escape.GAME 0VER
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3 seconds left to live.
Once the countdown starts, it cannot be stopped.
2 pawns thrown into a brutal underground reality game.
Kira Jordan survived her family’s murder and months on plague-devastated city streets with hard-won savvy and a low-level psi ability. She figures she can handle anything. Until she wakes up in a barren room, chained next to the notorious Rogan Ellis.
1 reason Kira will never, ever trust Rogan. Even though both their lives depend on it.
Their every move is controlled and televised for a vicious exclusive audience. And as Kira’s psi skill unexpectedly grows and Rogan’s secrets prove ever more deadly, Kira’s only chance of survival is to risk trusting him as much as her instincts. Even if that means running head-on into the one trap she can’t escape.
GAME 0VER
The lights began to flash and an alarm sounded, so loud that I instinctively clamped my hands over my ears.
“What’s happening?” I yelled.
Rogan’s gaze darted around the room.
And then I heard something else. A metallic, computer-generated voice that seemed to come from every direction.
“Sixty...” it announced. “Fifty-nine...fifty-eight...fifty-seven...”
Rogan began struggling hard against his chain. “Kira, throw me that key. Right now! Do it!”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“It’s the countdown!”
Okay, I’d figured out that much all by myself. If I hadn’t been scared out of my mind, I’d have taken the time to roll my eyes at him.
“Which means what?”
He craned his neck to look wildly around the empty room as the lights continued to flash, plunging us into darkness and light like a strobe light in a dance club. “We’ve wasted too much time.”
“Fifty-two...fifty-one...fifty...”
“What happens when it gets to zero?”
He stared across the room at me, his gaze panicked. “When it gets to zero, we die. Do you understand? If you don’t throw me that key, in less than fifty seconds we’re both going to die!”
Contents
LEVEL ONE
Chapter 1
IT’S CALLED NYCTOPHOBIA. I looked it up once. It’s the official term for an abnormal and persistent fear of the dark. I’ve had it ever since my parents and sister were murdered during an in-home burglary while I hid under my bed.
In the dark I couldn’t see anything; all I could hear was the screaming.
And then the silence.
So, yeah. I’ve been scared like hell of the dark ever since. Go figure.
Unfortunately, that’s where I found myself when I opened my eyes. Frankly, I didn’t remember closing them. I’d been in the mall, I remembered that much. I’d just lifted a new pair of shoes—my old pair was worn out since all I do is walk everywhere in the city, day in and day out. This pair was nice. Red. With strong laces that, if necessary, could double as a weapon.
The streets were tough sometimes. Especially at night. Especially in the dark.
Like right now.
But this wasn’t the street, I knew that much. I was inside.
Somewhere.
Choking panic began to flood my body. I knew freaking out wouldn’t help, but sometimes you can’t stop yourself—or reason with yourself—when you’re in the process of freaking out.
I felt a pinch at my right wrist and reached over with my other hand, trying to feel my way through the inky blackness. It was a metal cuff. Attached to a chain. Attached to the smooth, cold metal wall behind me.
What the hell is going on?
Had I been caught shoplifting? Was this prison? I wracked my brain to try to remember being arrested, but came up blank. No, I’d grabbed the shoes, shoved them under my coat, and left the store to go into the half-abandoned mall where I’d put them on and thrown my old ones in a garbage can. And then...then what happened?
I remembered wanting to grab some food. I’d had two bucks to my name, so I’d figured I could buy a small order of French fries at one of the few restaurants that were still open. That would last me a day before my stomach would start complaining again.
Had I even made it to the food court?
I couldn’t have. I was still hungry. Starving. My body felt as if it was eating itself, but that was a bit of an exaggeration, I guess. Yesterday I’d had an entire meal. Ordered off the menu even, and then tried to skip out before the bill came. The owner of the diner had caught me, reprimanded me, and I’d figured that that was it—he’d call the cops.
Instead, he’d taken pity on me and made me wash dishes. It was a humbling experience, but I’d had a lot of those since my family died.
In the end, I appreciated his kindness. Washing dishes was a whole lot better than getting arrested.
Okay, breathe, Kira, I told myself. And I did. I took a deep breath in through my nose and let it out through my mouth. My heart thudded hard in my ears.
Why couldn’t I remember what had happened after I’d taken the shoes? Damn it. And where was I?
