Chapter 11 – Chrissy #2
Down the table a bit, one of the women, Number Twelve, if the pendant around her neck was anything to go by, was watching us like a hawk. She had glossy dark brown hair and a smile that looked sharp if you caught it from the wrong angle.
She speared a bite of salad, then turned her attention to me fully.
“So,” she said, bright and faux-pleasant. “How does one get blessed with a staff member who could potentially pass along inside knowledge as a partner? Asking for a friend.”
Number ten snorted into her wine.
Heat prickled at the back of my neck.
“I didn’t ‘get blessed’ with anything,” I said. “My original partner broke a rule. Henry eliminated him. Jacob volunteered so that I wouldn’t be automatically kicked out before we even started. End of story.”
“You say ‘Jacob’ like that’s not a violation,” Twelve said, turning the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Isn’t he supposed to be ‘Number Seven’ now?”
I bit back my first response.
“He was introduced to me as Jacob,” I said evenly. “He helped me when my tire blew on the access road. I was late. He fixed it. He didn’t have to. It’s hard to boil all that kindness down into a designation like number seven.”
“He’s staff,” she said. “That’s kind of his job.”
The words dropped sourly between us.
Her partner, Number One, judging by his lapel pin — leaned forward, his mask catching the candlelight.
“If I may play devil’s advocate for a moment, it does look a little… convenient,” he said. “The groundskeeper rescues the damsel in distress, becomes her partner, and now he gets to feed her inside info for the remaining ten days of the game.”
Jacob’s shoulders stiffened and he went very still beside me.
Henry didn’t say anything yet. He was watching us. I could feel his gaze boring into me.
“I don’t have any inside info,” I said. “And if you think Number Seven is going to risk his job and whatever punishment Mr. Stonewood has lined up for him, just to help me cheat, maybe you should’ve read your own contract a little closer.”
Twelve’s smile sharpened.
“Just admit that you have an unfair advantage over the rest of us.”
“I admit I had a flat tire and bad luck,” I shot back. “And that I’m grateful someone came to my aid and actually treated me like a human being when we both could have just let it slide.”
Her gaze flicked to Jacob, then back to me.
“He’s still on the payroll of the man we’re all here to impress,” she said. “Are we really pretending that doesn’t matter? The rest of us got matched randomly. You walk in already paired with someone who works for him.”
“That pairing is going to cost me,” Jacob said. “I stand to lose everything, including my job, if Eighteen doesn’t win, or at least stay honestly in the game until someone else has won.”
It was the first time he’d spoken loud enough for anyone else to hear him. Heads turned, all drawn to the sound. His voice was the same as it had been when he was helping me out on the road: low, rough, somehow steady and frayed at the same time.
“Mr. Stonewood will decide my… punishment… for inserting myself into the game after dinner,” he said mildly. “Volunteering to keep Eighteen in the game wasn’t free.”
Twelve’s brows shot up, arching over the top of her mask.
“And that’s supposed to make us feel better?”
“It’s supposed to make you understand it wasn’t done lightly,” he said. “She didn’t ask for it. I did it to stop her from being unfairly eliminated before the Game began.”
“So noble,” she murmured. “How romantic.”
The sarcasm in her voice made my teeth grind.
Number One set his fork down with a little clatter.
“Look, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” he said, facing Henry. “You expect us to sit here and pretend this isn’t all rigged in Eighteen’s favor? She gets staff-boy as a partner, he gets a front-row seat to all the challenges, and you want us to believe he won’t nudge things in her favor?”
A crackle moved through the room, nervous and hungry.
Someone muttered, “He’s got a point.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. They were going to get me eliminated and Jacob fired if they didn’t shut the fuck up.
Henry stood. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.
“That’s quite enough,” he said, his voice crisp and cold.
The room went still.
“Number One,” he continued, eyes fixed on the man across from me. “Do you recall the sabotage clause in your contract? Hell, man, I just went over it mere moments ago.”
One’s mouth worked.
“I’m not sabotaging anyone. I’m pointing out a conflict of interest that is detrimental to my partner, and to every woman here besides Eighteen.”
“You’re accusing another guest,” Henry said, “and a member of staff, of colluding to defraud the Game. You’re implying cheating on the first night, before a single challenge has been announced. You’re attempting to seed distrust in a way designed to unsettle and disadvantage your fellow player.”
His icy gaze slid to Twelve.
She lifted her chin, not backing down one bit.
“We’re asking for fairness.”
“No,” Henry said, and the softness in his voice dropped away completely. “You’re asking me to eliminate Eighteen based on nothing more than your suspicions, suspicions likely driven by what you would do if you were in Eighteen’s shoes. There’s a difference.”
He looked down the table, making deliberate eye contact with each face he passed before moving on to the next.
“You all signed the same document,” he said. “It clearly states: any intentional attempt to sabotage, disqualify, or otherwise interfere with another guest’s ability to participate in the Game will result in an immediate elimination for you and for your partner.”
My fork hovered halfway to my mouth.
Oh God.
“For clarity,” Henry added, “Jacob’s status is as follows: he is permitted to act as Eighteen’s partner for the duration of the Game.
He is staff, and as such, knows exactly what Mr. Stonewood would do to him for trying to manipulate the game in any way.
Allow me to assure you that Number 7 would never dare to do so.
Any advantage you perceive is… imagined. ”
He turned back to One and Twelve.
“You two, however, have just put your own places at risk,” he said.
Twelve let out a brittle laugh.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am never anything else,” Henry said.
He nodded once toward the far end of the table. Two staff members stepped forward from the shadows, silent and efficient.
“Number Twelve,” Henry said. “Number One. You’re out.”
Chairs scraped.
Twelve pushed to her feet, eyes flashing.
“On what grounds? For asking a fucking question?”
“For attempting to weaponize innuendo against a fellow guest,” he replied. “See section seven, paragraph three of your contracts. I’d quote it, but I suspect you didn’t read that far.”
One stood too, color high under his mask.
“This is bullshit,” he snapped. “You can’t toss us just because we noticed your little pet project.”
The words slammed into me like a slap. Pet project. Jacob’s hand tightened imperceptibly around his knife, like maybe he was considering stabbing someone.
Henry’s jaw ticked once.
“I assure you,” he said, “I can. You are welcome to have your attorneys review the paperwork once you’re home.
For now, you’ll gather your things and be escorted from the property.
For the rest of you, understand this: I can remove any of you at my discretion.
If you don’t play by Mr. Stonewood’s rules, you’re out. Simple as that.”
The staff members at Twelve and One’s shoulders didn’t touch them. They didn’t have to.
The authority in Henry’s voice did all the pushing.
Twelve looked down the table, her dark brown eyes lingering on me.
“If you think this doesn’t put an even bigger target on your back,” she said, “you’re even dumber than you look.”
My spine snapped straight.
“If you’d spent half as much time reading what you signed as you did staring at my partner,” I said, “you might still be in the Game.”
Her lips curled into a snarl that made her perfect face downright terrifying. Then, she turned and stalked out, heels hammering against the floor, staff flanking her like shadowy parentheses. Number One followed, muttering curses I couldn’t make out.
The doors shut behind them with a soft, heavy thud. Silence rolled through the dining room like fog rolling in off Mobile Bay.
Henry lifted his glass again, utterly unbothered.
“As I said,” he murmured, “be very careful. The Game rewards resilience, not spite.” He set the glass down with a quiet click. “Please. Eat. Enjoy your evening. You’ll need your strength for the challenges to come.”
Conversations limped back to life in fits and starts. No one looked directly at me now. They looked near me. Around me. Over my shoulder. Glances skated off Jacob like he was radioactive.
I stared down at my plate.
“Hey,” Jacob murmured. For a moment, he moved as if to reach out and touch me, but he thought better of it and grabbed his water glass instead. His knee bumped mine under the table, just once. “You did nothing wrong.”
“He just kicked two people out for jumping to conclusions I might have been inclined to draw myself, if our roles were reversed,” I whispered. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“Henry doesn’t like people fucking with the plan,” he said. “That’s all that was.”
“The plan,” I echoed.
“To give everyone a fair shot,” he said, after the slightest hesitation. “To see what you all do under pressure.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but right now, I couldn’t think about anything except the way my hands were still shaking and the pounding behind my eyes.
I forced myself to eat another few bites. To answer a couple of polite, surface-level questions from the woman on my left. To nod when someone made a bland comment about the lodge being beautiful.
It was beautiful, in that gothic, predatory way old things sometimes were.
By the time dessert appeared — a piece of something chocolate and delicate and utterly unnecessary — I couldn’t stomach another bite.
Henry rose again, glass in hand.
“Thank you for your attention this evening,” he said. “You’re welcome to linger here for coffee and conversation, or retire to your rooms. You’ll each find a small gift from Mr. Stonewood and further instructions waiting for you.”
My pulse tripped over itself.
Gifts? Instructions?
I couldn’t sit still a second longer.
“I need to—” I started.
Jacob pushed his chair back at the same time I did.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t quite an order, either. It was somewhere between the two.
“I’ve already gotten you in enough trouble for one day,” I whispered.
His eyes met mine through the mask.
“Trust me, Miss Jones,” he said. “You haven’t even scratched the surface. Trouble and I are old friends, at this point.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, either.
But my chair was already pushed back, my napkin already on the table. My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me away from the candles and the eyes and the man at the head of the table who’d just casually removed two people from the Game like he was deleting spam emails.
I didn’t look at anyone as I left the dining room. I refused to look over at the man in the ill-fitting tux whose gaze I could feel like a palm tracing my cheek and the column of my throat.
I just walked up the stairs, down the corridor, toward Room Eighteen and whatever waited for me on the other side of that door.