Cato just laughs. “Shoot me and he goes down with me.”

Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into his skull.

“You’re not leaving me here alone,” I say. Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

He’s still smiling when he settles the second on my head, but his eyes, just inches from mine, are as unforgiving as a snake’s.

So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess . . . back in the arena . . . that was just some strategy you two worked out?

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