Chapter 8: Choose Your Death

The clearing fell silent except for the sound of distant wind and the soft crunch of snow under boots. The cold air bit at Ezra’s skin, and his breath steamed in the chill like smoke. In front of him, Vera stood at ease, her long black hair swaying lightly in the breeze. Behind her, a small squad of armed teens waited, tense but obedient.

"How dare you speak to Lady Vera like that?" A girl stepped out from Vera’s right; her bow already drawn tight. Her black-and-blue hair glimmered slightly under the pale moonlight, and her icy blue eyes locked on Ezra with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "Do you even understand the situation you’re in?"

"Nina."

The name came softly from Vera, her tone calm yet oddly... playful. She raised one slender hand like she was about to scold a child. "Calm down. It’s fine. Honestly, I like his confidence."

Her eyes turned back to Ezra, narrowing ever so slightly as her lips curved into an almost amused smile. "You know," she added casually, "not everyone can take down four ambushers and then block an entire volley of arrows from my people. That’s not average. That’s... impressive."

Nina’s jaw tightened. "Those guys are failures," she muttered, still aiming. "If they were even remotely competent, he’d be lying dead on the ground."

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic." A boy with dark gray hair and black eyes adjusted his glasses from Vera’s left side. "They did injure him, and he couldn’t kill them. That counts for something. We can at least give them some credit."

Vera tilted her head at him. "No, Zack. He didn’t kill them... intentionally." She folded her arms, tapping a finger on her sleeve as she studied Ezra. Her expression grew more curious, more invasive. "Instead, he knocked them out. And, oh, this is adorable—he even shielded that little trembling girl behind him from the arrows. What a hero. Am I supposed to swoon? Because I think I just did."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but her eyes gleamed with something else. Interest. Maybe excitement.

Ezra blinked, momentarily thrown off. He’d expected her to be a silent, cold beauty type—someone who carried herself like royalty. But this girl? She was different. Sharp-tongued, unpredictable, and clearly enjoying every second.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Vera asked suddenly, pointing at him with a lazy flick of her finger.

Ezra stiffened. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

"Silent treatment?" She arched her brow. "Or is it my body? Are you wondering how a girl my age can have such a great figure?" Her voice turned soft but cutting, her words landing like needles. "Sure, I don’t have massive breasts. I’m just a modest C-cup for now... though maybe a D in a year or two."

Ezra froze, blinking like his brain had just short-circuited.

"And my hips? Perfect curve. My ass? Exceptional. My thighs..." she lifted her skirt slightly to reveal just a bit of her pale leg, "...absolutely worth the trouble."

"Lady Vera, please stop!" Nina’s cheeks flamed red, her nose practically bleeding. She rushed forward, grabbing Vera’s wrist in panic.

Vera pouted like a disappointed actress denied her moment on stage. "Ehhh, you’re no fun, Nina."

"Lady Vera," Zack interrupted as he pushed his glasses up again, "shouldn’t we focus on the actual reason we’re here? If we stall any longer, he might actually run."

"But he hasn’t." Vera smirked, her eyes flicking back to Ezra. "In fact, I’m disappointed. You haven’t even tried to run yet. That was your best chance, you know?"

"I was just resting," Ezra said dryly, brushing snow from his sleeve.

A hush swept through the group. Even Vera tilted her head in surprise before bursting into laughter. It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and deliberate, like every laugh was designed to make you uncomfortable.

When she stopped, her eyes locked onto him again, sharper now. "You know, I actually want you to escape. It would be more... fun. Even though you’re injured, even though you can’t hide from me, I still want you to run." She smiled sweetly, tilting her head. "Because I’m a nice person. Aren’t you happy? I’m giving you a choice. I’m basically your big sister now. Call me that. Go on. Say it. ’Big sister Vera.’"

"Lady Vera," Zack said calmly.

"Yes, Zack?"

"He’s already escaping."

Vera blinked, turning her head. Sure enough, Ezra’s back was already vanishing to the right, his legs carrying him fast through the snow.

"Ohhh," she said softly, placing a hand over her chest like she was touched. "He took my advice."

Her hand flicked outward. Instantly, her people moved. Boots stomped against snow as spears and arrows flew, slicing the air toward Ezra. He darted left and right, zig-zagging to throw off their aim. His breath came out in sharp bursts, the cold tearing at his lungs, but he didn’t stop. The forest edge was close. If he could just reach it...

Then something slammed into him from the left.

Marcus.

Ezra crashed to the ground, rolling across ice and dead leaves. Marcus pinned him, face twisted in fury, a broken stake gripped in his good hand. "Hahaha! Got you now!" Marcus spat, eyes burning. "Did you really think you could escape me?!" The stake pressed downward toward Ezra’s face.

Ezra caught his wrist just in time, muscles straining. Pain flared through his injured side, but he forced his strength out, fighting against Marcus’s downward push.

Marcus grinned wider, insane. "I’m going to kill you, Ezra! Right here!"

But his injured arm couldn’t hold the pressure for long. Ezra twisted his hips, shifting his weight, and suddenly the stake was turning—slowly—toward Marcus’s own neck.

For a split second, Ezra hesitated, staring into Marcus’s eyes. Then he looked away.

"...Tsk." He shoved hard.

The stake plunged into Marcus’s neck. Blood sprayed, hot and thick against the frozen ground. Marcus’s final scream echoed in the trees before dying into silence. His body slumped and fell lifeless beside Ezra.

"He killed him..." Nina whispered, lowering her bow slightly. Behind her, the rest of Vera’s group stood frozen. Some were pale, shaken by the reality of death. Others looked grim, faces hardening like they were slowly adjusting to the brutal reality of these trials.

Awoooh!

A wolf’s howl cut through the silence. The hairs on Ezra’s neck stood. Vera, however, stepped forward, her face lit with a chilling smile.

"Do you hear that, Ezra?" she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. She tilted her head slightly to the right, her black hair sliding off her shoulder. "That means the wolves smell blood. And unfortunately for you..." she spread her arms like she was announcing something grand, "you’re out of the safe zone. This place you’ve been hiding in? Yeah, it’s designed to keep them out. But you stepped past the line." Her smile widened; eyes half-lidded. "Too bad."

Ezra stared at her, confusion mixing with realization.

The safe zone?

He thought about the cave. The stream. The oddly convenient setup. It hit him all at once: this wasn’t just some random lucky hideout—it had been

designed

.

"So that’s how you found me..." he said, half-laughing despite his exhaustion. "I kept asking myself, how did you even know where to look? Guess I understand now."

Vera blinked, then grinned like she’d just heard a funny joke. "You didn’t know? Those dots on the map, they’re safe zones. Twenty-five of them. All marked clear as day." She placed a finger to her cheek in mock disappointment. "You didn’t even look at your map, did you?"

Ezra looked away, embarrassed. "I... used it to start a fire."

Silence. Then laughter. Even some of the tense followers snickered.

Vera clapped once. "You are

ridiculous

," she said, laughing again. "I kind of like that. You found a safe point without a map. Pure survival skills." She sighed dramatically, putting her hands on her hips. "Shame I have to kill you."

Her hand went up.

Arrows aimed at Ezra again, strings creaking.

"Ezra," she said sweetly, almost like a teacher addressing a child, "you have two choices." She spread her arms. "Die by this lovely barrage of arrows... or die being torn apart by wolves." Her lips curved into a serene smile. "Choose your death."

Ezra stared back, sweat sliding down his cheek. His injury throbbed, and his breath came hard and uneven. He was exhausted, his mind screaming at him to run again, but his body already felt like lead.

Still, he clenched his teeth.

I’m not dying here. Not yet.