She has no name. She has her knives. Her training. Her halo. The first and second give her the ability to defeat the opponents she is pitted against each month. The third frees her from pain and fear. From any kind of emotion at all. Everything is as it should be. Everything is as it should be, until... Fear... Pain... Anger... Happiness... Desire... Guilt... Love. When a newly named Kit escapes the Sanctuary after killing her best friend, the last thing she needs is another knife in her hand. Or Ryka, the damaged, beautiful blond boy, whom she refuses to let save her. The sights and sounds of Freetown are new, yet one thing is familiar: the matches. The only difference? Where the blood in the Sanctuary landed only on the Colosseum floor, Kit will quickly learn that a river of red runs through Freetown's very streets. Without her halo, the inhabitants of Kit's new home consider her saved, but is that really the case? The reality of her old life is paralyzing. Would she be better off free of the guilt associated with all the blood on her hands, or is the love of one boy worth living through all the pain? The rumbling chant for fresh blood, the demand for sacrifice, echoes in Kit's ears. The Colosseum is behind her. The fighting pits await.