Page 58 of Wicked Games

My attacker spun me around, and I came face to face with Rhys.

“Look,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to give you a chance, because I know exactly how you feel right now. Everyone is gunning for me too thanks to that little theory you and your friends put forward yesterday. So I’m going to let you hide now, and I’m going to try and hide too. But if I don’t hear that buzzer before the last five minutes of the game, I’ll find you and pull your string just so I know at least one person is red. Got it?”

I nodded silently, heart pounding. Rhys stared at me for a second longer. Then he turned on his heel and ran off in the opposite direction. I spun back around and kept heading down my original path.

I spent the next several minutes slipping down new paths, peeking around corners, and skidding to rapid stops so I could turn tail when I heard someone coming. There were a lot ofshadowy nooks and cracks built into the painted walls, which allowed me to save myself from multiple close calls.

“I saw her come this way!” Jasmine called out to Kiara as they dashed past the hidden nook that I’d wedged myself into mere seconds ago. “Shit, where did she go?”

“That way!” Kiara said. “I can hear something over there!”

Their footsteps faded into the distance. I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the path again. So far, I’d had seven near-misses, and the timer on the ceiling was down to six minutes. If I kept making my way through the maze and hiding in the nooks, I could save myself for the rest of the game. Rhys had promised to tag me if no one else was tagged, but that plan hinged entirely on his ability to find me. If I was careful, that wouldn’t happen, and I would survive against all odds.

Someonehad to die, though. That grim reality kept gnawing at me, whipping up a strange combination of fear and guilt deep inside. Obviously, I didn’t want to be caught and tagged, but if I wasn’t, someone else would be tagged by the end of the game to avoid the outcome of everyone dying. I knew that wasn’t my fault, but still… I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for whoever ended up losing their life today.

I spied a large black crack on the wall ahead, and I hurried over to it, assuming it was another nook to hide in. Unfortunately, it was just a huge streak of black paint.

“Shit,” I muttered, whirling around to assess my options. I could go back the way I came, or I could choose between the left or right.

I picked the left again. That direction had saved my life many times, so I figured it made sense.

I sprinted several yards, only to find myself at a dead end. I whirled back around and skidded to a heart-rending stop as I spotted Tate striding toward me.

“Gotcha,” he said, thin lips stretched into a smirk. “You can’t hide forever.”

Panic flooded me. “Please,” I said, lifting my palms. “Don’t do this.”

He advanced, one slow step at a time. “There's only three minutes left, and I’m not dying in this fucking place,” he snarled, eyes narrowed on the green light dangling over my chest. “It has to be you.”

“Wait!” I lifted a trembling hand. “Just wait! Please!”

He glanced at the timer on the ceiling. “I’m a generous guy, so I’ll give you a minute or two for your last words. But then I’m yanking that string, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Just listen to me,” I said, voice cracking with fear. “It doesn’t make sense for you to tag me.”

Tate’s brows lifted, and he folded his arms. “Oh, yeah? Why?”

“You’ve been trying to convince everyone that I’m the Game Master since yesterday morning, so you obviously really believe it’s me. Right?”

“So what?”

I cleared my throat and raised my chin. “If Iamthe Game Master, and you pull this string, my light won’t turn red, because obviously I’ll have some sort of failsafe built in to protect me. Then every player’s light will still be green at the end of the game, and that means everyone dies. Except me, obviously. Do you really want to risk that happening?”

Tate smirked. “Nice try, but I’ve been thinking about this shit for the last fifteen minutes, and here’s what I’ve realized,” he said, slowly rubbing his chin. “If you’renotthe Game Master, you’ll die after I tag you. If youare,you’ll want to keep hiding your identity while so many of us are still alive, because you can’t fight off ten people at once. So you would never admit that your collar malfunctioned because you’re the Game Master. Instead, I think some sort of automated announcement would play, tellingus there was a technical issue and therefore the game is forfeited as it couldn’t be completed, despite you clearly losing by getting taggedon camerawhile the footage is supposedly being live streamed to the Game Master.” He paused and pointed to one of the many surveillance cameras overhead. “None of us would die then. We’d be allowed to move on to the next game, and everyone would see it as a lucky escape. But you know what, Carey?”

“What?”

He took another step closer. “If that actually happens, I’ll know you really are the Game Master, and I’ll tell everyone else. Then it’s ten against one. I really like those odds.”

“Tate, please…”

“Think about it.” A malicious grin spread over his face. “If you’re not the Game Master, you’ll die. But if you are, your identity will be revealed, and we can take you down. Win-win, the way I see it.”

“Don’t do this to me.Please,” I said, eyes stinging with tears.

“If it’s not you, it has to be someone else. You’re the best option we have.” He glanced upward. “Time’s up.”

“Please!” I screamed. “No!”

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