Free Countdown by Michelle Rowen Page B

doesn’t necessarily mean that you did what they said.” He looked away.
“Just tell me. It’s simple, really. You either did it or you
didn’t.”
He shook his head. “Nothing’s simple. Nothing in my life
has ever been simple.”
“Did you kill those girls?”
“No, I didn’t.” He met my gaze again—his tortured.
Haunted. He’d been through hell even before entering this
game. For someone who was still a teenager, his eyes held a
lifetime of pain and misery.
Rogan wasn’t lying to me. He was innocent of those horrible crimes. I’d bet my life on it. In fact, I think I already had. “You believe me,” he said very softly.
I nodded, my throat tight. “I believe you. But why would
they say that if it isn’t true? Why would you let them?” His brows drew tightly together. “It’s complicated.” My gaze softened, and I touched his face, tracing my index
finger gently along his scar. “So, you were locked up for something you didn’t even do?”
He swallowed hard and entwined his fingers with mine. “I
told you already. I’m a very bad person. If you knew the truth
about me, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that. You’d hate
me. And you’d sure as hell not want to be this close to me.” “You killed your roommate, but it was in self-defense. I
can’t hold that against you. You had no choice.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not talking about that. It’s
something else. Something worse.”
My stomach twisted. “Tell me. Rogan. I promise I won’t
hate you.”
Our eyes locked, and I was certain he was going to answer me. But then the door on my right opened and Jonathan walked in. Two men dressed all in white accompanied
him, but they stayed by the door while he approached my bed. “You’re awake,” Jonathan said, adjusting his wire-frame
glasses.
I glared at him. “You’re observant.”
His smile held no warmth. “I’ve been instructed to tell you
that your next level will lead to a contestant reward. Should
you complete it successfully, you’ll receive something very
special.”
We both gave him a blank look.
He cleared his throat. “Rogan, would you mind giving
Kira and me a few moments alone?”
Rogan’s expression tensed. “I’d rather stay here.” Jonathan’s smile grew. “To protect her from me?” “Maybe.”
“Trust me, that won’t be necessary.” He paused. “I really
would prefer you leave of your own free will, Rogan. If not,
then there are other methods I can use to remove you from
the room.”
The silent, white-clad men stood at the doorway with their
arms crossed.
“It’s okay.” I touched his arm to find that it was tensely
corded muscle.
He met my gaze and nodded once. With a last look at Jonathan, one edged in violence, he finally let go of my hand
and left the room.
The two men also left, closing the door behind them, leaving Jonathan and me alone.
“Who are you?” I asked after a heavy, silent moment had
gone by.
“We already met earlier. Jonathan, remember?” I rolled my eyes. “I remember everything that’s happened
to me. Vividly. Consider it burned into my brain forever. But
that doesn’t explain anything.”
The smile continued to play on his lips, which I found annoying. To say the least.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“You are, Kira.”
“Is that so?” I straightened up in the bed, my fists curled
tightly at my sides.
“I mean it as a compliment.” The smile faded around the
edges, and I noticed that it had never reached his eyes. They
were dead serious. “Most normal girls would not have lasted
as long as you have in this game. When you were chosen to
play, I had my doubts, but they’ve dissipated with each passing level.”
“What do you mean by normal girls?”
He spread his hands. “We’ve had only males play, until now.
Men and boys who were accustomed to a life of struggle and
violence, whom no one would miss should they be…unsuccessful. Some rise to the challenge and others crumple under
the pressure to