Arena 3. Morgan Rice
ubtitle>Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising twelve books; of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); of the epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS, comprising six books; and of the new epic fantasy series OF CROWNS AND GLORY. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
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“Shades of THE HUNGER GAMES permeate a story centered around two courageous teens determined to buck all odds in an effort to regain their loved ones. But the true strength in any story lies not so much in its setting and events as in how the characters come across, come alive, and handle their lives-and it's here that ARENA ONE begins to diverge from the predictable and enters the more compelling realms of believability and strength…ARENA ONE builds a believable, involving world and is recommended…for those who enjoy dystopian novels, powerful female characters, and stories of uncommon courage.”
"I will admit, before ARENA ONE, I had never read anything post-apocalyptic before. I never thought it would be something I would enjoy…Well, I was very pleasantly surprised at how addicting this book was. ARENA ONE was one of those books that you read late into the night until your eyes start to cross because you don't want to put it down…It is no secret that I love strong heroines in the books I read…Brooke was tough, strong, un-relentless, and while there is romance in the book, Brooke wasn't ruled by that…I would highly recommend ARENA ONE.”
Copyright © 2016 by Morgan Rice
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Jacket image Copyright Olivv., used under license from Shutterstock.com.
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
I thrash against the struggling current, lungs bursting, desperate for air. I try to propel myself to the surface, kicking furiously, treading for sunlight. I don’t know where I am or how I got here – but I know I can’t breathe, and I can’t last much longer.
With one last kick I finally manage to break the surface. I gasp, gulping the air, never having felt so dead – and so alive.
As I bob in a fast-moving river, I catch a glimpse of someone standing on the bank, looking down at me. Before a wave crashes over my head, I realize: my dad. He’s alive.
And he’s watching me.
His face is hard, though, too hard. No warmth is there – not that he was ever warm to begin with.
I push up to the surface again, fighting the power of the current.
“Dad!” I shout, fighting against the raging current. “Dad, help me!”
I’m overwhelmed with joy to see him, but there’s no emotion on his face at all. Finally, he locks his jaw.
“You can do better than that, soldier,” he barks. “I want to see you fight!”
My heart constricts. I look around me, disoriented, and it’s then that I see them: rows of spectators behind him. Biovictims with melted, tumorous faces. They are braying for blood.
I recoil in horror as the crowd begins to chant.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
I suddenly realize: I’m in another arena, its floor made up of water. It’s as if I’m in a giant fish bowl, with all the spectators high up on bleachers, all chanting for my death.
My fighting instinct kicks in and I tread with all I have, trying to stay above the surface. I scream soundlessly, no noise coming from my mouth at all.
I suddenly feel an icy hand on my ankle beneath the surface, trying to drag me down.
I look down and am stunned to see, beneath the clear waters, a face I’d never thought I’d see again.
Logan.
He’s alive. How can it be?
He holds onto my ankle with a viselike grip. His eyes are locked onto mine, boring into me as he pulls me deeper into the water, down into the depths.
“Fight!” my dad screams.
The crowd joins in, and as I am dragged down, I can hear their chants beneath the water, like a tribal drum pounding in my skull.
Panicking, I kick and writhe, trying to get away from the nightmare that is unfolding before my eyes. The water makes everything seem to move in slow motion, and I look down at Logan, his hand latched