He was tall, the man I fought. He was three times my age and at least four times my weight, and each of his massive upper arms was thicker than my waist. But he was slow and stupid. I was fast and smart. The only time I even came close to losing is when I glanced over at Cato, who stood back where the lighting was bad and didn't say a word.
"Really, Davik?" I quip at him when it's over, snatching the towel from his hand as he laughs.
"Dry off for a minute. I'm going to collect our prize," he laughs, ruffling my hair before dodging around me and taking off around the ring toward Tag's little table.
I wonder why he even bothers with the money and sit down in a huff to wipe the sweat off my face and arms, surprised at how tired I am. At the Training Centre, only a few people have more impressive stature than Cato, and Davik is easily my biggest opponent to date. I see why Cato picked him. Now I have some respect here. No one is looking at me like an easy target anymore, especially when Cato returns to my side and drops down beside me. It makes my blood boil a little bit to think that they still keep an eye on him more than me, but at least they're beginning to fear me.
"Got it," Cato says, handing me a coin purse and leaning over so I can hear him better over the crowd that's gone crazy about the next fight. "Let's get going. There's somewhere else I want to take you before we head back."
He grabs my wrist to keep me tightly behind him as he weaves his way toward one of the back exits, slipping out unnoticed before releasing me and breaking into a run. I shake my head, irritated with him for his energy, but keep my mouth shut as I jog behind.
I start to understand the need for our pace as he winds through back roads, skirting around the Training Centre and up into the foothills. When we finally stop, it's at a massive old house so far off the beaten road that I'm ready to kill him.
His easy manner quickly disarms me though as he heads around the side and opens up a basement hatch to reveal a ladder dropping into darkness. He flashes a smile at me before hanging himself over the edge and letting go.
If he thinks I'm going down there he's crazy. "What are you doing?" I hiss down at him, worried that someone in the house above will hear. A minute later a pale light fills the opening and I know he's not coming out until I relent. "Fine," I whisper, more to myself than him, climbing over the edge and down the ladder.
What I find inside is less interesting than I was anticipating. Other than a single hanging bulb, there's nothing in the space except musty air and Cato is nowhere to be seen. Begrudgingly, I head for the door on the far wall and nearly crash into him on his way back for me.
"What the hell are we doing here?"
"Oh relax, Clove" he says in exasperation. "Nobody lives here."
I still whisper for some reason. "How on earth do you know this place?"
Seeing hesitation written all over my face, he takes my wrist again and leads me further into the dark hallway. "Gretta used to make house calls here. They guy was crazy rich and sometimes she'd bring me along to play with his son as a distraction. He died a few years back. House's been empty since."
My skin crawls in the darkness despite Cato's hand on my wrist as he leads me all the way to the last room at the end of the hall. Once we're inside the door he curtly releases me, causing me to inch closer to him for protection as he fumbles with something. I quickly step back when he lights a match and puts it to the wick of the lone candle on the bookshelf in front of us before blowing the match out. If he notices my proximity, he doesn't mention it, distracted as he drops into a squat and digs out an old lockbox from one of the lower shelves.
"Still have that purse?" He asks, looking back at me.
I don't like how dependent on him I feel right now. I don't like this place at all. "How badly to you want it?" I ask, smiling more confidently than I feel, looking for any distraction. Even if he's relaxed here, I'm not.
"Clove, haven't you had enough trouble for one night?" he leers, one side of his mouth quirking up in amusement.
"If I had, whose fault would that be?"
"I did you a favor back there," he retorts, standing up and drifting towards me. "But I'll tell you what; if you give me that purse, I'll let you have this back." Slowly, he draws my silver knife from his pocket, and I realize he never returned it after my match. A stupid smile spreads across his face as he waits to see how I'll respond, tapping it against the palm of his hand smugly. For some reason my heart kicks up.
I'm suddenly reminded of the first time he tried to take it from me, and the vicious fight that followed. Here he is again, toying with me just because he can, and I'm tempted to jump on him for principle's sake alone, but as tired as I am from the fight and the run I know I'm not in any state to challenge him so I stare at him defiantly instead, refusing to look away first.
"You really want to start that again, Cato?" I threaten. "Remember what happened last time? Or do you need me to refresh your memory?"
His lips twitch up at the corners, drawing my attention briefly before he decides to move closer, taunting me. "Last time I checked, I was the one with the knife, Nightlock. Make the trade…" he insists, reveling in his advantage. His blue eyes know I'm bluffing, which irritates me on some level.
I know if I take the bait and lunge at the knife he'll never let me have it. He's waiting for it. Any other night I might have tried, but for now I decide to concede, pulling the small coin purse from my pocket and offering it to him with a narrow glare.
He laughs in response, flipping the blade over like a hinge to offer me the handle. I take it from him, tossing the purse as I slip the knife into its place on my belt and watch him cross back over to the lockbox.
"Why do you keep that here anyway?" I ask, wondering why he bothers collecting it at all. The Centre gives us everything we need and after the Games we'll either be rich or dead. It'll never matter.
"Never know when it'll come in handy," he shrugs.
With a click, the lid shuts and Cato slides the key back under the candle before blowing it out and plunging us into darkness. Instantly my skin prickles and every muscle in my body tenses.
"Cato…"
His hand closes around my bicep. "Hey, don't you trust me?" He mutters lightly in my ear, his hot breath spilling onto my neck. His chest brushes against my shoulder and I realize he's closed the space between us. In an effort to control my fear, I shrink back against him.
"Yes, now get me the hell out of here!"
"Relax, Clove" he insists with a laugh.
His big hands take hold of my shoulders and push me in the direction of the hall. As soon as I see the light, I take off running and leave him far behind.