Nico doesn’t brace his fall at all as he lands facedown. What the hell? My feet are welded to the canvas, and I don’t move to help him right away. Not until I hear Christiana cry out, because it scrapes my heart like sandpaper. Snapping out of my stupor, I run and drop to my knees next to Nico, ignoring how the crowd is rattling the cage and heckling us. “Nico!” I roll him onto his back, and all I see are the whites of his eyes. I shake his shoulders but he remains limp and unresponsive, his mouth hanging open. I lower my ear to his lips, but there’s no warmth from his breath on my cheek. When I place my hands on his chest I feel the fading wave of a heartbeat. Shit. I start chest compressions. “Hey! He needs help!” I shout but the crowd’s displeasure drowns out my pleas. I’m still pressing down as hard as I can when one of the armed masked men steps into the cage and pushes me aside. I expect him to continue rendering aid but he doesn’t.
