Chapter 33 #2
“We’re handling it,” one of them said smoothly, already turning away. “Just sit tight, okay?”
I grabbed his sleeve. “Handling what?”
He smiled the way people smile at scared kids. “We’ve got people on it.”
On what. No one would say the word Max back to me.
Jeremy’s hand closed around my arm again, gentler this time but no less firm. “Come on, Mackenzie. I’m taking you in.”
“In where?”
“Someplace safe,” he said.
I stared at him.
Nowhere was safe.
Jeremy put me on the back of his bike instead. It was the same model he used to brag about back when we were kids, only darker now, sleeker, more government issue than reckless.
“Helmet,” he said, holding it out.
“I don’t need—”
“I know you’re a fucking bad bitch and all, but sis, humor me.”
I snatched it from him and shoved it on, fingers clumsy.
I swung my bandaged leg over the bike, the wrap on my leg now pulling tight enough to make my eyes water.
The engine roared to life beneath us. The first jolt sent a dull ache pulsing through my leg.
The woods, the cabins, the screaming in my head started to peel away behind us in a blur of dark and cold air as we hit the road.
I pressed my forehead against his back, eyes open, watching the road rush by under the edge of the visor. Every bump in the asphalt jarred my ribs and sent a slow, mean throb through my bandaged leg, but it felt distant, as if it were happening to someone else.
Over the wind, I shouted, “You didn’t answer me. Is he alive?”
Jeremy didn’t look back. “Hold on.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
The way he said it made my stomach drop.
Streetlights flicked past. A gas station. A closed diner. Normal life lined up along the road like a movie set someone had forgotten to shut down. No one was screaming. No one was bleeding. No one was playing a game with people’s lives.
It didn’t feel real.
I replayed every word Jeremy had said.
He’s in the game. He went all the way in. There are things I can’t tell you.
Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?
Everyone I’d talked to since I stumbled out of the trees had said the same kind of nothing, just dressed in different uniforms.
We’re handling it.
We’re taking care of it.
You need to focus on yourself right now.
No one had said: Max is here. Max is gone. Max is dead. Max is alive.
It felt less like they didn’t know and more like they were all reading lines from the same shitty script.
By the time we rolled through the gates of the field office, my legs had gone numb. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Gray walls. Security glass. The kind of place that was supposed to make you feel safe.
It just made me feel trapped.
Jeremy killed the engine and swung off the bike. He offered me a hand; I ignored it and climbed off on my own, knees wobbling.
“They’re waiting,” he said.
My heart stuttered. “You mean, Tony?”
He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Inside, the air smelled like coffee and toner and something metallic underneath. Agents moved through the corridors in dark jackets, glancing at me, then away, like they’d been told not to stare.
I caught snippets as we passed:
“—she’s the one from the cabin—”
“—they said he stayed—”
“—don’t mention the—”
Voices dropped when I looked at them. Smiles flickered on, bright and fake.
Jeremy led me into an interview room. There was no mirror, just a table, two chairs, and a box of tissues. I could hear the click of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.
I was being recorded.
Agent West came in stoically. Same suit as always, tie a little looser, hair grayer at the temples. His face carried that practiced mix of concern and authority I remembered too well.
“Mackenzie,” he said. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
I didn’t wait.
“Where’s Max?” I asked. No hello, no pleasantries. “Don’t tell me you’re glad I’m safe until you tell me where he is.”
A quick glance passed between him and Jeremy. It was over in a flash. If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it.
West gestured to the chair. “Sit down. You’ve been through—”
“Don’t.” I stayed standing. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a victim on a pamphlet. Tell me where he is.”
He exhaled through his nose, slowly. “We’re doing everything we can to locate him.”
My jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you right now.”
“Funny,” I said. “Jeremy said almost the exact same thing.”
West’s eyes flicked to his son again. “He did?”
Jeremy’s expression didn’t change. “I told her he’s in the game,” he said quietly.
My head snapped toward him. “You told him you told me?”
West’s mouth tightened. I thought he might actually deny it.
“Given what you experienced,” West said carefully, turning back to me, “it made more sense to be honest about certain aspects of the situation.”
“Certain aspects,” I repeated. “Not all of them, apparently.”
He didn’t argue.
“Okay,” I said, my voice starting to shake for a whole new reason. “Then tell me the rest. How long have you known about this? How long have you been watching us?”
“I understand you’re upset,” West said.
I laughed, loud and sharp. “You have no idea.”
“We’ve been investigating the group behind this game for some time.” His words were smooth, practiced. “When we received information that you and Max might be targeted, we—”
“Might be?” I cut in. “You had cameras in the woods. You had Jeremy ‘watching’ us. That doesn’t sound like might.”
He paused. “We had reason to believe there was a high probability of an incident,” he corrected.
“That’s what you call it?” I asked. “An incident?”
His gaze stayed steady. “Mackenzie, I need you to understand that there are operational details I simply can’t share with you.”
“There it is,” I said softly. “The line.”
West frowned. “What line?”
“The one you all keep reading from. We can’t say more. We’re doing everything we can. You’re safe now.” My hands balled into fists at my sides. “None of you will tell me where he is.”
“Because,” West said, the faintest edge creeping into his tone, “we don’t know his exact location.”
I stared at him. “Do you know if he’s alive?”
Silence.
It lasted a second too long.
“We have no confirmation of his death,” West said finally.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s the most accurate answer I can give you,” he said.
Accurate. Not honest. Noted.
“You’re lying to me,” I said.
“I’m not,” he replied calmly.
“Then Jeremy is,” I shot back. “Because he told me if I go after Max, I don’t come out. That sounds like more than ‘no confirmation of death.’ That sounds like you know exactly what the game does to people. To him. To me.”
West’s eyes cooled. “My son may have spoken out of turn.”
“But not incorrectly,” I pressed.
He didn’t answer. Another one of those tiny, calculated silences he did so well.
Everything in me went icy.
They weren’t just withholding. They were coordinating.
“Max is in the game,” I said slowly. “You know what that means. You know where that puts him. You know what it would do to me if I tried to follow.”
“Mackenzie,” West said, leaning forward slightly, voice softening into what I recognized as his interview mode, “our priority right now is your safety. You’ve been through significant trauma. Your perception of events may be—”
“Don’t you dare.” My voice came out like broken glass. “Don’t you dare tell me I didn’t see what I saw just because it’s not convenient for your report.”
He sat back, studying me.
“I’m not your suspect,” I said. “It’s me. Mackenzie. I’ve grown up with you.”
Behind me, Jeremy shifted his weight. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck.
“We are not giving up on Max,” West said at last.
“That’s another line,” I said.
“It’s the truth.”
My laugh came out thin and ugly. “You keep saying that word like it means something here.”
He folded his hands on the table, perfectly composed. “Whether you believe us or not, we’re working to dismantle the organization behind this and to recover everyone we can.”
“Everyone,” I echoed. “Not him.”
“Everyone,” he repeated.
But when he said it, his eyes slid just slightly away from mine.
Everyone was lying. Or if they weren’t, they were lying by omission, which felt worse.
Either way, they were never going to tell me what I needed to know.
Which meant, like always, I’d have to figure out on my own.