Chapter 38 Ana #2
Shame washed over her. This man had read her confession.
He knew that she had led her own brother to his death.
That Danny hadn’t died because Karl started the fire—that he had died because of her stupid, arrogant belief that she knew best. Hunt knew what she was, and maybe he was right about her.
Maybe she deserved every bad thing that had happened here.
Hunt’s eyes were on her—he was watching her closely.
She wanted to turn away from him, not give him the satisfaction of seeing her doubt, but she didn’t move.
The time for hiding was over. She had faced her worst fear and confessed to Alex, to someone she loved, and he had forgiven her.
She needed nothing from this man. She straightened, standing taller.
Alex.
Her hand tightened around the weight. She needed to distract Hunt one last time. This time she would do what had to be done. Alex was going to live. She would make sure of it.
She took a few steps towards the chessboard. The smell of smoke was more noticeable here.
“Okay, so you found out what we did. You know that we all messed up in some way a year ago. Why not just release what you found to the police or the press?”
“Oh, I wanted to. I would have liked nothing more than to send all your dirty secrets to the press. But no one would have believed me—my proof was illegally sourced; I didn’t have a neat little paper trail that would stand up in court.
I was just the killer’s grieving dad, making up a bunch of lies because I couldn’t accept the truth about Karl. ”
“So, you came up with the Balloon Game. You handpicked the guilty and brought us here to force us to confess.”
“I had to. I had to create irrefutable evidence, and this was the perfect way to do it.” Hunt gestured towards the wall of screens.
“I have recorded confessions from each of you, acknowledging your role in what happened. Confessing to the bullying, drug dealing, and cowardice that led to the fire. Admitting that it was your own negligence and Jax Patel’s selfishness that resulted in two unnecessary deaths—deaths that weren’t caused by the fire, but by stupidity and avarice.
When I release these recordings, spoken in your own words, no one can deny the truth of what really happened one year ago.
My son did not kill anyone, and once I have the final confession, the big one, I will have absolute proof that my son did not kill himself. ”
“Ellis…”
“Indeed. Ellis Locke. The grand finale. I might never have found out what his secret was if I hadn’t seen his lawyer visiting him at the hospital on the day of the fire.
Why would an innocent teenage boy need a lawyer?
And why so soon? What was the hurry? That’s when I knew Ellis Locke had something to hide—something big.
I left Ellis a special message in the anniversary card. A warning, you might say.”
“The twenty-dollar bill? That was for Ellis? I…I don’t understand…”
“No, you wouldn’t. But what matters is that Ellis will.”
He looked around, his eyes locking onto Ana’s, his expression dark.
Ana moved the weight behind her, wondering if he sensed what she had been thinking of doing, scrabbling to say something to distract him.
“So…you win. You get your confessions. Why kill us? You have what you need. Why did we have to die too? We’re just kids…”
“My son was a kid! You’re not innocent because you’re young. I had to make the stakes high, or you would have never confessed,” Hunt snapped. Instinctively, Ana backed away. His movements were becoming more erratic. She would have to act soon.
“What about the adults? What about the police who accused Karl, or the press who pushed the story that Karl was a monster? What about the custodian who locked the wrong exit doors and got off with just a reprimand? What about the school? The fire safety system completely failed and no one was held accountable. They claimed it was a faulty electrical panel—a freak equipment failure, and no one was prosecuted. No one. Why aren’t you punishing them? Why us?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Ana. They’re next. That’s the sequel.” He grinned and bent down, his hand reaching under the chessboard. This was her chance.
Ana jumped forward, the weight raised in the air.
No thinking. Do it. For Alex. For Raya.
Before she even got half the distance, before she could bring the weight down on him, Hunt stepped back, something dark and shiny in his hand. He was pointing a gun at her.
Ana dropped the weight heavily on the ground.
It landed with a dull thwack. She froze, unsure what to do.
She’d had her chance and blown it. He had her, he was too far away—if she ran at him, he would have all the time he needed to simply pull the trigger and the next hour would start.
Her body would be left down here, unfound. The bunker would become her tomb.
“Nice try.” Hunt was laughing at her. Laughing. “Much as I have enjoyed our little chat, I must get going. I really don’t want to miss the finale. Now turn around and get down on your knees.”
The gun went up.
She considered refusing, but there would be nothing to stop him from shooting her right there and then.
He clearly had no problem with killing teenagers.
Reluctantly she turned around and dropped to the floor.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she listened for sound, aware that at any second, if he wanted to, he could pull the trigger and be done with her.
There was a rustle of movement. She felt her hands roughly pulled behind her and crudely zip-tied together. Then her ankles. The ties cut into her skin, but she didn’t care. Hunt half-dragged her back against the wall.
The gun’s cold, steely eye was directed at her face now. His finger rested on the trigger.
“Can I ask you something, Ana? After all of this…the motel, the Balloon Game…do you feel better?” Hunt’s expression was oddly soft. He must enjoy this part—the power he had over her.
She would not give him the satisfaction.
“Better?” she spat the word. “How can you say that? How? You have tortured us and killed us. You executed Raya, my best friend. You killed Benny and Caden and Jax. Now you’re trying to kill Alex. How dare you? How dare you?” She was shaking with fear or anger, she didn’t know or care which.
“That’s not answering the question. I’ve watched you for months, Ana.
I’ve tracked everything you’ve done. I’ve seen you barely existing in a cloud of guilt and grief, struggling to even get out of bed and make it through each day.
You destroyed your relationships, your grades, you threw away any future you might have had.
All because you were broken, living under the shadow of guilt.
All because in your heart, you believed that you killed your brother. ”
Ana recoiled from him. She couldn’t do this. Not anymore.
“Go to hell!” It wasn’t sophisticated or clever. But she was spent. Every last ounce of her was done. Hunt wanted one last victory. He wanted more than death, he wanted to see her destroyed. She wasn’t playing anymore.
“One last time, Ana. Now that you’ve confessed your guilt, now that you’ve faced death once more, and actively chosen that you want to go on—do you feel better?”
The simple answer was yes. Yes, she had been pushed to the edge and chosen to fight.
Yes, she had found Alex and Raya again. Yes, she was feeling more like herself than she had in a year, and yes—she had faced the consuming guilt that had been eating away at her every day.
But for what? Only to have everything viciously ripped away again, to watch the only people in the world she loved suffer and die in this godforsaken hole.
“That’s what I thought.” Ana could sense his smugness; he was proud of what he’d done here. He was enjoying his cruel game. Anger coursed through her, pushing away the fatigue. She was done playing.
“Go on, then. What are you waiting for?” Ana raised her chin defiantly and stared down the gun barrel. “Just do it.”
“As you wish, Ana Reyes. As you wish…”
She closed her eyes, grateful for the darkness. A numb sensation settled over her. Not fear. Just dullness, as though her senses were shutting down. The end of the road.
The roar was back, louder than ever. Crushing her.
There were faint sounds, movements, but they were quickly lost in the all-consuming noise in her head.
This time, she would let the roar take her, like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and pulling her back with it, away from life, into the sea.
Into nothing. This last time, she would go willingly.
She thought of Danny. Is this what it felt like? Had he known that his time was up—that he was going to die? Did he hear the roar? Would she see him again?
Rustling, a creak, the strong smell of smoke. Fragments cutting through the noise. Why was she still alive? What was Hunt waiting for? Every nerve was on edge, waiting for the end. Would it hurt? Where would it hit her? Why was it taking so long? Just do it. Just fucking do it. Get it over with.
She almost turned. Almost opened her eyes to see. Almost.
A deafening crack reverberated off the walls. The sharp sound echoed around the bunker, fading away until there was nothing left.