“That’s not true,” he tells me. “I nearly killed you, Grace. I nearly killed you. And for what? To stop Hudson coming back?” He glances over at my mate and deliberately raises his voice when he adds in an abysmal British accent, “I still think he’s a bit of a wanker,” to which Hudson flips him off without even bothering to look up from the book he borrowed from Remy.

“But he shouldn’t have died for it. And you definitely shouldn’t have nearly died because of it. I was so blinded by fear and rage and hate that I nearly destroyed one of the best people I’ve ever met.” He clears his throat, swallows. “Which makes me no better than the brother I was trying to avenge. Damien was a monster; I just didn’t want to see it. And I nearly killed an innocent girl because of it. I deserve every day I have to spend in here and then some.”

“Why? Because you need to suffer?” He looks away, and I squeeze his hand. “No. You’ve suffered enough, Flint. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t—” He breaks off, then starts again. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I forgave you. I know I yelled at you about it when we were in New York, but I forgave you a long time ago. And I think if you want to beat this prison, then you have to do what you just did. You have to acknowledge your actions and why you did them. But you also have to forgive yourself. If you do that, this shithole can’t torture you anymore.”

Flint doesn’t say anything, but he is listening. I can tell. And for the first time in almost a week, he manages to smile at me. It’s not his usual charming grin, but it’s a smile, and I’ll take it.

I don’t know what to say to Calder, who is hugging her knees to her chest and rocking, but I know she was listening to what I was saying to Flint, too. And as the knowledge sinks in that she made it through—that they all did—I can see her finally start to really breathe.

“You should paint your nails again, for the Pit,” I suggest, holding her gaze. I know if Calder is grooming, she’s going to be okay. And so I wait. And wait.

It seems to take her forever, but eventually she nods and reaches under her bed for a bottle of blue nail polish with glitter, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Calder is going to be okay. They all are. We made it through the gauntlet, a little worse for wear maybe, but we made it.

Eventually, we all head to our beds to grab a little rest. Even Hudson, though he first spends what I sincerely hope is his last hour in a shower trying to scrub my imaginary blood from his skin. But we all try to sleep at least a little. Because we know what’s up next…

I can’t stop the pounding of my heart a few hours later when we start moving again—though at a much more sedate pace than the Chamber roulette. It only lasts about fifteen seconds, and then every light in the room turns bright purple.

“What’s going on?” Hudson asks, eyeing the purple lights with amused trepidation.

Remy grins as he slides open the door in the floor that our food normally comes through. “Hold on to your money and your magic, boys and girls, because we have finally made it. Welcome to the Pit.”

130

Fortune Favors

the Trolled

My stomach is in knots as we make our way down the steps. I’ve grown used to the Hex—I hate it, but I’ve grown used to it. Yet I can’t even imagine what the Pit must be like. I know we have to go, know we have to face whatever’s down here, but there’s a part of me that wants to stay right here.

I glance at my group and realize, not for the first time, how small I am compared to them.

Flint and Hudson don’t seem to have any such reservations about heading down, judging by the way they’re crowding around the opening trying to get a look at whatever the Pit has to offer.

Calder starts to head down, but Remy stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “If there’s anything you want from here, you need to get it now,” he tells her.

The look that flashes across her face is scarier than any I’ve ever seen from her, and for a second, I think she’s going to shrug him off. But then she goes back to her bed and opens the drawer underneath it. I’m not sure what she grabs, but it must be small, because she hides it somewhere on her person.

“Remember,” Remy says. “We’ve got twelve hours to get the hell out of this prison. If we don’t escape by then, we’ve got to head back to our cell and start the whole process all over again. Only this time, we’ll have to do the full nine spins of the Chamber.” He looks between us. “None of us wants that. But if it’s coming up on twelve hours and we’re not out… You need to make sure you’re back here, even though it sucks. Any cell that’s late coming back from the Pit draws the Chamber for a month straight. Obviously nobody’s ever late. Let’s not be the first.”

“We’re going to find a way out,” Hudson says, and I wish I felt as confident. Maybe Hudson beat it today and he won’t have to go back in, but I don’t trust anything about this place—I’m not going to take that assumption or any other for granted.

“I really hope you’re right,” Remy replies. And then he gestures for us to precede him down the stairs, and my stomach sinks.

I really don’t want to be one of the first down. What if someone from the Hex is waiting for us? Or worse, someone who lives in the Pit? I shudder and am about to suggest I go down last, but then I glance at Calder fluffing her hair, Flint rubbing his hands together, and the smile in Hudson’s eyes to see me finally leave this cell, and I realize I can’t show anyone how scared I really am. I might be the weakest link in our group, but there’s no reason I have to show it.

I walk up to the hole and watch Calder go down first, and then I follow her while the guys pull up the rear. But the second I make it to the bottom, I realize that something is very, very wrong.

Because the place I’m staring at is nothing like I was expecting the Pit to be. In fact, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Whether that’s good or bad, I don’t know yet.

All around us, other people are descending from their cells, hitting the ground running…and heading for the maze of merchants and stalls that line the long road we’ve descended upon. Hundreds of people running for dozens of little booths, where they can buy clothes, food, beer, and any number of other things, if the bright, colorful signs above the shops are any indication of the wares inside.

It’s the last thing I ever expected to be here, but now I know why Remy was so adamant about us making money every time we went into the Hex these last several days. There’s no way to survive down here without it.

I might not know much about this place, but I’m definitely smart enough to know that much. And if we want help, we’re going to have to pay for it.

“This is the Pit?” Hudson asks. He looks as astonished as I feel.

“I thought it was going to be…” Flint trails off, and I get it. He’s trying to find the least offensive way to say it. I know, because I’ve been doing the same thing for the last five minutes.

“A share-the-adventure version of your own private hellscape?” Remy asks.

Flint shrugs. “Maybe something like that.”

“Why would anyone try to get to the Pit, then? The whole point is to make people want to atone for what they’ve done. If you risk the Chamber—and especially if you get it—this is your reward.” Calder holds her hands out and spins around like one of those old-time game-show girls showing off the merchandise.

“Where do we go first?” I ask as we start weaving our way through the throngs of prisoners. Everyone from our level is here tonight, which means all the familiar faces from the Hex.

A coven of witches passes, giving me what I’m sure is the literal evil eye for the first time in my life, but I ignore them. Which is easy to do when Hudson places a hand on my back in obvious support.

“I’ve got a couple of packages to pick up,” Remy says. “Then I say we find the blacksmith.”

“Always with the packages,” I tease.

Calder does her patented hair fluff and head toss. “How do you think he got to be the richest guy in prison? I mean, if it was just based on good looks, I’d be loaded.”

“You absolutely would be,” Remy agrees with a grin, even as Flint rolls his eyes.

“If you’re the richest guy in prison,” I muse aloud, “why did we need more money to get out?”

“Cher, if I had enough money to get out, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?” He raises one brow at me as he steps to the left to avoid a huge metal trash bin on the side of the road. “And now we need to get six people out. Like I said, it’s going to take even more money and a whole lot of luck.”