24
I awaken, finding myself alone in my own bed. Lincoln’s left a small note on the nightstand beside me. ‘Off to rumple the couch before your mom wakes up. See you at breakfast. L.’ With a sad smile, I slip the note into the top drawer of my little table. It came from Lincoln; I can’t bring myself to throw it away.
My bedroom door swings open. Mom steps inside, my fighting suit gripped in her hand. The worry lines around her eyes have deepened overnight. She pauses. “You’re up.”
I hoist myself to a seated position and set my feet on the chilly floor. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
“It’s 5 AM. Time to get ready for the Arena.”
I rub my neck and stretch. “Thanks, Mom.” Nervous energy twists down my spine. My hands tremble slightly.
Come on, Myla. This should be a match li
