LOGINGARRETT'S POV"Turn it off."Nobody moved to turn it off.The screen on the wall of the holding room had been running continuously since the second day. Game footage, hall footage, and corridor footage. Claudia's people had set it up and left it running, whether as entertainment or torture, neither Tom nor Alvin had decided. I had decided it was torture. I watched it anyway.Tom was on the floor with his back against the bed, his bandaged leg stretched out, reading something he had found in the drawer when we arrived. Alvin was on the far bed facing the ceiling. He had been facing the ceiling for most of the morning.The screen showed the glass bridge game from two days ago. Sarah and Michael, crossing panel by panel. Their timing and the way they moved around each other without collision.I watched it and said nothing."You have been sitting in that chair for four hours," Tom said without looking up from what he was reading."I know.""You have not eaten.""I’m not hungry."Tom looke
SARAH'S POV"I want to propose something."We were back in the room after the day's official game, both of us tired in a way that had become familiar, a tiredness that settled into the shoulders rather than the legs. Michael was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall and I was on mine with my knees pulled up and the notebook closed beside me."What?" I questioned."A game," he said. "Our own, inside the official games."I looked at him. "Go on.""One question each. Every day, after the official game is done." He said it plainly, no preamble, no architecture around it. "The question has to be honest. The answer has to be honest. If either person refuses to answer, they forfeit something.""Forfeit what?""We decide that before each round."I looked at him for a long moment.I recognized it immediately. The structure of it, alongside the controlled intimacy of a format that produced real information under the cover of a game so that neither person had to fully own what they w
SARAH'S POV"I went back in for your parents."I was sitting on the edge of the bed in our shared room, and those words were still in the air around me like smoke that had not finished settling. Michael had whispered them in my ears forty minutes ago in the corridor, and then we had walked back to the room in silence, and he had sat on his bed and picked up a water bottle and drunk from it like he had not just handed me something that dismantled twenty years of a story I had been living inside.He was still sitting there now, across the room. Not watching me or performing anything. Just present.I stood up."I need an hour," I said.He looked up."Alone," I said. "I just need an hour."He nodded once. No questions, no negotiation. He stood, picked up his jacket, and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut quietly behind him.I sat back down.The file I had been keeping on Michael Van Leer in my head since the recovered memories in Patricia's lab had one entry that never moved, n
MICHAEL'S POV"Left exit, move."I muttered and moved toward the right exit simultaneously, and Sarah did not question it because we had learned in eight games that my reads on rooms came fast and were usually right. She ran left, while I ran right.The room was a square box with two doors on opposite walls and a heat source in the ceiling that had been running since we entered, a slow build that had become a serious problem in the last four minutes. The air had weight to it now. Hot and dry and pressing against exposed skin with the malice of something that did not need to hurry.My door had a panel beside it. Sequence required. I worked on it fast.The panel rejected the sequence.I tried the second combination. Rejected.The air was getting worse. I could feel it in my throat now, each breath carrying less than it should. I looked across the room at Sarah's door. She was working her panel, and it was taking too long, and the temperature was reading on my skin like a warning.I loo
SARAH'S POV"You are thinking too loud."Michael expressed it without looking up from the wall he was studying. We were between games, standing in a corridor outside the main hall, and I had been standing six feet away from him for four minutes doing exactly what he said."I think quietly," I said."Not today." He turned. "What is it?"I looked at him. This was the moment, let him see something real for now, not too much though, but just enough to crack the surface."What was your house like?” I asked. "When you were a child before all of this."He was quiet for a moment. "Cold," he said finally. "Physically cold. My father believed comfort made weak men. The heating in the east wing, where our rooms never ran above fifteen degrees from October to March." He paused. "I used to sleep in my clothes."I had not expected that. I had expected deflection or a polished non-answer or the particular brand of controlled honesty Michael used when he wanted to appear open without actually being
MICHAEL'S POV"No speaking, no sounds. Just hand signals only."The guard read the rule from the card and stepped back while the door to the game floor opened. Sarah and I walked in together.The floor was a grid—twenty rooms connected by corridors, each room with a locked door requiring a sequence to open. The sequences were visible on panels beside each door but required two people to activate simultaneously from different positions. Impossible alone, but designed entirely for pairs.The guard's voice came through the speaker above us: "Two hours…find the exit."Then silence.Sarah looked at me, and I looked at her.I moved toward the first door, she followed, and the game began.I had known who Sarah Henderson really was three years before the wedding.I thought about that while my hands worked the first panel sequence. I had commissioned Lucien's full dossier from a contact buried deep inside Interpol, a man who owed me a debt he had been servicing for eleven years in small, carefu
FRIEDA’S POV“We’re approaching the coordinates now."Commander Hayes's voice passed through the helicopter headset. I pressed my face against the window, watching the landscape change from gray ocean to green countryside.My hands shook as I gripped Patricia's files. I'd been reading them for the e
FRIEDA’S POV I wiped my face roughly with my sleeve. No more crying, no more being the victim.I'd spent so long being controlled, being told what to do, being moved around like a chess piece. I'd forgotten what it felt like to make a real choice.But I have one now.I could cooperate with the auth
ALVIN’S POV"Get up. We need to move now."Serena’s voice thundered through the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes to black, choking smoke rolling everywhere.My body ached. Burns on my arms, cuts on my face, blood in my mouth, but I was alive.I pushed myself up from the rubble, concrete and twi
CLAUDIA’S POV"Cheers to perfection."I raised my champagne glass toward the woman slumped across me, drugged and restrained in the plush leather seat. Frieda Enriques. My masterpiece, my greatest work of art.The private jet hummed smoothly at 30,000 feet, cruising over the Atlantic. First class al







