I shift nervously in my seat, wishing on some level I could be having this meeting alone with Archard, instead of getting unnerved by Enzo’s constant gaze. But on the other hand, I welcome the heat pouring off Enzo. It both calms and excites me.
“The first term is that only one person from the new generation can compete. The oldest direct heir gets the right to decide if they compete or if someone else from the same generation is better suited for the task and job at hand. Now is the only time to swap out for someone different. If there is a different sibling, cousin, etc. from this generation you would rather have compete from your family for the name of Black and all that comes with it, let it be known now,” Archard says.
“I don’t have any siblings or cousins. It’s just me,” I say.
Archard turns to Enzo, although I would guess he already knows his answer. This is just a formality.
Does Enzo have any siblings or cousins he fought first to earn this right?
“I will be the one competing,” Enzo says bla
nkly.
“Good, now let’s discuss how a winner will be determined,” Archard says.
I stare down at the next page where Archard begins reading.
“There will be five rounds to determine who can claim the name Black. The first person to win three rounds will become the winner.”
Five rounds. That doesn’t seem so bad.
“The first and third round rules were determined by Miss Miller’s father.”
I raise my eyebrows. Dad? He determined two of the games?
My heart aches. Why didn’t you tell me about this Dad? You could have prepared me to fight. To win. Instead, you left me in the dark. Did you even choose a game I could win or did you expect me to lose as quickly as possible?
“The second and fourth games were determined by Mr. Rinaldi’s father.”
I gulp as I look across to the darkest man I know. If his father won the games before, then I expect him to be even crueler than the man in front of me. Which means whatever games he chose, I’m fucked.
“And the final game, if needed, was determined by both fathers.”
They had to agree? What game would they agree to? I doubt our families would agree on anything if they’ve been doing battle for generations—where the winner gets to live like a king, and the loser barely survives in a trailer park. No wonder we struggled so much.
What else did you hide from me dear old Dad?
I need to find my father. He has some serious explaining to do.
“The winner of each round should be easy to determine. There is no subjection to the games. There is a clear winner or loser as determined by the rules of each game. But if a winner needs to be decided, or a rule determined to be won or broken, I’m the one to make such decision.”
“You? Wouldn’t that give Enzo an unfair advantage since you work for him?” I ask.
“No, Miss Miller, my loyalty lies with the Surrender organization and the man or woman who claims the title of Black. As Mr. Rinaldi no longer holds that title, I have no loyalty to him,” Archard says.
I frown. I don’t like this one bit. It feels rigged.
Enzo smirks as my reaction. “Don’t worry, Miss Miller.”
I hate when he calls me by my last name.
“You’ll soon learn this game is the epitome of fair,” Enzo continues.
I snark. He means these games will be anything but fair. But that’s the point. Surrender isn’t run fairly. This life, this world isn’t. I of all people understand that.
Archard ignores our exchange. “The games begin upon the demise of the previous Mr. Black. As he died three years ago, that means the games should start immediately.”
I suspected Enzo’s father was dead, but this confirms it.