Countdown. Michelle Rowen

got a wife. And a kid.”

      “Yeah, you’re right. And we can’t let him leave our sight.”

      “There are ten minutes remaining in this level of Countdown.”

      I turned to meet Rogan’s gaze.

      “You know what we’re supposed to do,” he said, his jaw tensing. “And we have ten minutes to do it.”

      To successfully complete level three you are required to assassinate him, Jonathan’s instructions echoed in my mind.

      I shook my head. “No. It’s not going to happen.”

      “Do you want us to die?”

      I blinked at him as a sick churning steadily grew in my gut. “I don’t want us to die. But I also don’t want to kill a man I’ve never met before. Somebody who doesn’t deserve it or even see it coming. There’s no way.”

      “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him. “We can’t let him get away.”

      “You can’t kill him.”

      “It’s him or us.”

      “I don’t care.”

      “We’ll see if you’re still thinking that way in a few minutes.”

      “I’m not capable of murder. I’m not like you.”

      Rogan let go of my hand but kept walking. He didn’t look at me. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know me.”

      “I don’t want to know a sick bastard like you.” I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything more. That had sounded crueler than I’d wanted it to.

      That earned me a sharp look. “We’re running out of choices. Get that through your pretty head. There are no choices. We do what they tell us to or we die.”

      “Maybe I don’t care. My family was murdered. I’d never do that to another person’s family. I’d rather die first.”

      “I’m not in the mood to argue with you, Kira. We don’t have the time.”

      I watched as Bernard Jones exited the mall through the swinging doors.

      “So you’re going to follow him and then what?”

      “And then I’m going to kill him.” He raised an eyebrow. “But then again, I am a sick murdering bastard, right?”

      “So it’s that simple for you?”

      His fists clenched at his sides. “You’re acting as if I have a choice.”

      “There’s always a choice.”

      “Not for me,” he said grimly. “Not anymore.”

      And with that he stalked out of the entrance to follow his prey. I raced to keep up with him.

      Kill or be killed.

      There had to be another way. And I needed to figure it out. Fast.

      Chapter 6

      BERNARD JONES WALKED down the sidewalk outside of the mall completely oblivious to the fact that he was being stalked.

      “Where’d the camera go?” I looked around the area, gray and bland, and noticed that we were alone again.

      “It’s around, I’m sure.”

      “You seem to know a lot about how this game works.”

      He raised a dark eyebrow. “Do I?”

      I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah. You do. Who are you, Rogan? Who are you really?”

      “I’m nobody.” He flinched and looked away from me, but not before I saw a hint of pain slide through his gaze. “You’re imagining things.”

      Was that a moment of vulnerability? It was enough to unbalance me again. “I—I’m not imagining anything. I swear I’m going to figure out what your real story is.”

      “Sure. Good luck with that.” His gaze returned to mine, but this time it was more guarded. “You think you can figure out what makes me tick other than the countdown in my head?”

      “Don’t make fun of me.”

      “But you make it so easy.” He gave me a sideways glance, a bit of humor returning to his eyes. “Do you give all the guys in your life such a hard time?”

      “There are no guys in my life.”

      “What about your boyfriend, Oliver?”

      I made a face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

      “And what the announcer said about you using your body to get whatever you want?” His gaze slid down the length of me.

      I ignored the sudden heat in my cheeks. “It’s not true. And even if it was, it wouldn’t get me what I want right now.”

      “Which is?”

      “To get out of this game.”

      “So, that’s all you want? To get out of this game?”

      “Yes.”

      “And then what?”

      Bernard slipped behind a corner of a crumbling building ahead.

      “Then I want to figure out how to get into the Colony,” I said.

      He smiled thinly. “Everybody wants to get into the Colony. What’s so great about that place, anyway?”

      “It’s not here. It’s a place where somebody can make a fresh start and have a chance at a better life.” I crossed my arms as I trudged along. I didn’t want to reveal too much of myself to Rogan, considering how little I knew about him. It made me uncomfortable. “What about you? If you don’t want to go to the Colony, what do you want?”

      “Revenge.” He said it so quickly that it surprised me.

      “Against who?”

      He smiled cruelly, showing his perfect white teeth. “Against everyone who’s screwed me over. Trust me, it’s a long list.”

      His cold words chilled me. “I’ll try my best to stay off it.”

      “Good idea.”

      “There are seven minutes left in this level of Countdown,” the disembodied voice announced.

      Rogan’s shoulders tensed, and he picked up his pace.

      “Wait.” Panic welled in my chest. “There has to be another way.”

      He met my gaze, and I could see his was strained. “I have a theory. This guy...this Bernard Jones...he’s a plant, a paid actor. Something. Maybe he’s not as innocent as you think. Maybe he knows what’s going on, and this is just another test.”

      “Why would you think that?”

      He shook his head. “I’m not positive. But, the game...they don’t bring in outsiders. They don’t target civilians who have nothing to do with Countdown in the first place, it’s just not their style.”

      “You keep talking about the game like you know all about it. How?”

      “You’re going to have to take my word for it, Kira. Just listen to me. If they start bringing in unassuming civilians, then they run the risk of being exposed. The last thing the Subscribers want is to have their friends and family learn their dirty little secret—that they pay money to see torture and murder on live TV.”

      It made sense. Even though the cops might not care what happened to criminals, they’d definitely care what happened to the regular civilian. The city might be a mess, but it wasn’t total chaos.

      “So,