Page 96 of Wicked Games

Nostrils flaring, he did as she said and pulled the trigger. Once again, nothing happened.

It was my turn next, followed by Zach and Brooke. We all made the bottle land on Hudson, and he survived each round.

“My turn,” he muttered, glaring daggers at me as he snatched up the bottle.

When it landed on me again, I took a deep breath, picked up the revolver, and pressed it against my right temple. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.

“Thank god,” Jasmine murmured when nothing happened.

We went around the circle once more, targeting Hudson every single time. When it finally came to Brooke’s second turn, she glared at him and spun the bottle to land on him yet again. “Your odds are getting worse, asshole,” she hissed across the circle.

He rolled his eyes. “If I survive this, it’ll be Maverick next. And who knows? Maybe that’s where the bullet is.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She fixed him with a steely gaze. “Why don’t you pull the trigger and find out?”

He lifted the revolver and pressed the barrel to his temple. When he pulled the trigger, a deafening crack echoed through the room.

The once sinister smirk on Hudson’s face twisted into a split-second of shock before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless and still. The metallic scent of his blood hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder.

“Well, I guess we all saw that one coming,” Jasmine said. “Can’t say I’ll lose any sleep over it.”

“Me neither,” Zach muttered through gritted teeth.

Brooke stared at Hudson’s crumpled body. “This place has turned us all into heartless monsters,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t even care. It’s the weirdest feeling.”

“You aren’t a monster,” I said stiffly. “We’re just doing whatever it takes to survive.”

“Game over,” the Game Master finally announced. “Congratulations to the survivors. The remainder of the day will be free for you while I prepare for tomorrow’s games. Lunch and dinner will be served at the usual times. Thanks for playing!”

I stood and looked down at Hudson’s lifeless body, face impassive. Like the others, I couldn’t even muster up a sliver of guilt or regret over his death. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, jabbing a thumb toward the door.

As we left the room and trudged down the hall, Zach looked at each of us in turn, eyes misty. “Do you guys still think Carey might be alive somewhere?”

Brooke sighed. “I really hope so,” she said. She turned to me. “Maverick? What do you think?”

“I really hope so too,” I said gruffly. “I promised I’d get her out of here.”

We settled into a grim silence as we headed upstairs. I returned to my room and slumped on my bed, mind reeling with unanswered questions about Carey’s disappearance.

What was she doing out of her room after the curfew? Where was she going? I knew she wasn’t coming to see me, because the surveillance video showed her heading to the very end of the hall. Only April and Courteney’s rooms were down there, and they were both dead, so she wasn’t going to see them either.

What else was down that end of the hall that could’ve tempted her out of her room in the middle of the night? Was she going to climb out of the window again, like we all did on our first day here?

No.That didn’t make any sense. There was simply no point in doing it, which meant she was either headed for April’s room or Courteney’s room. But that brought me back to the previous point—both of those girls were dead. So why go to their bedrooms?

I ruminated on it for the next couple of hours, and my mind kept coming back to one thing: Carey must’ve realized something about either April or Courteney. But what was it? What could either of the dead girls possibly have hidden that would be important enough to make Carey venture out alone in the night?

My thoughts eventually drifted back to something Carey said yesterday.‘Does anyone else think there was something weird about that last game? I just keep getting this weird feeling about it. Like… something wasn’t right.’

I was getting closer now. I could feel it building inside me; the same realization that must’ve struck Carey last night. Something so shocking that she couldn’t wait until the morning to share it. Something that could possibly be hidden in one of the end rooms. But whatever it was, it continued to evade me.

As I mulled it over, it slowly occurred to me that I could just be completely delusional. This train of thought could be my heartbroken brain providing a distraction during one of my darkest moments; a coping mechanism to help me process the fact that Carey really died last night. I didn’t know exactlyhowit happened, so instead of being able to deal with that, I had to turn towhy.

“No,” I muttered to myself, curling my hands at my sides until my nails dug into my palms. I had to believe there was a chance Carey was alive. Had to believe the Game Master was just messing with us, like Brooke suggested earlier.

My mind drifted back to that exact conversation, replaying her words. I found comfort in them, knowing she held the same hope that I did.

‘All we saw was her face with a bit of blood on it. It doesn’t mean she’s dead,’she’d insisted.

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