Chapter 11: Dominance

I walked into the breakfast hall at seven with the card in my fist.

Twenty-two women sat at long tables under chandeliers, and three cameras crouched along the walls.

Imogen sat at the head table in a pink silk robe, buttering a croissant.

I slapped the card down beside her plate.

"Zero," I said, loud enough for every lens. "Somebody fixed my number overnight."

The room hushed.

Imogen glanced at the card, then at me, and sipped her tea.

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

"You were seen in my hall at four a.m."

"By whom? The cameras?" She smiled. "Check the footage."

She knew the footage was already gone.

I looked around the room.

Women were staring at their plates.

Nobody was going to say it for me.

"Page six of the contestant rules," I said.

I had read all eighty pages of them during the last two nights.

"Any contestant may challenge a higher rank to a dominance duel. The winner takes the number."

A murmur ran through the hall.

Imogen set down her teacup very carefully.

"You can't be serious."

"You're rank one. You're the favorite. I want it."

"You want to fight me," she said. "In front of the viewers."

"Unless you'd rather give me my number back."

Her smile went tight.

Delphine appeared in the doorway with a tablet and a cold look.

"Is there a problem?"

"Number Nineteen has invoked the dominance rule," someone whispered.

Delphine's eyes met mine.

I stared right back.

If she refused, she was admitting the rule meant nothing.

If she agreed, she risked her favorite.

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