Chapter 48 Carter
Carter
A gun. He had a gun. It couldn’t be real. Because what would Fitzy, her Fitzy, be doing with a gun?
But the moment passed and her denial dissolved into a chill down her spine.
Fitzy had killed Alicia.
He wasn’t going to . . .
He couldn’t actually . . .
Cold sweat beaded on the back of her neck as Fitzy strolled toward them.
At least he didn’t look maniacal. Actually, he looked mildly irritated.
“Goddamn it,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Carter didn’t realize she was retreating until her back collided with the wall, nearly knocking one of the skeletons off its hook. The clack of the bones drew Fitzy’s attention to her, and she shivered.
He narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.
” He turned his gun to Vera. “Clever influencer wannabe. I thought it was Louis, but you loved taunting me with how wrong that was, didn’t you?
I had to bug Ranielle’s office to figure out what the hell was going on.
Wasn’t until I heard the two of you discussing the puzzles for the finale that it clicked.
The Real Game Master. Shit, Vee, have you been behind this show the whole time? ”
For a bizarre moment, Carter was put off by the fact that Fitzy, family-friendly game show host, was swearing.
“You bastard,” Vera snarled under her breath. “You’ve made my life a living hell.”
“Hey, at least I have some respect for you now. Isn’t that worth something?” Fitzy jerked his gun toward the back corner. “All of you, stand there.”
The others shuffled, silent, panicked, between the wooden door and a skeleton, but Carter couldn’t move. Her entire body was numb.
Fitzy’s attention landed on her again. His expression turned sardonic. “Sorry, love, I’m not in the mood for another make-out session right now. So move.”
His tone was cruel enough to make Carter jump.
She edged nearer to the door, clutching the wooden stake.
Next to her, Adi was holding the map and the three vials of holy water—maybe they could throw a vial at Fitzy’s head.
The thought was so ridiculous that Carter almost started to giggle and had to clamp a shaking hand over her mouth.
Fitzy rubbed his jaw. “Think, Fitzy. Think, think, think. Fuck.” He swung the gun at them again, and they flinched. “What are you even doing here? You were eliminated!”
Carter could hear the others’ breaths around her. Could feel each subtle shift and shudder.
“I need to know why,” Sierra said. Voice steady. Cold.
Fitzy shook his hands in the action of strangling air, the gun waving with the movement.
“She was going to take my job! I’ve been here from the start, since we were a tiny production on YouTube.
She couldn’t just swoop in and take it from me.
I would’ve been deported! Back to my dad and my stepmom, who hated me so much because of a few inconvenient bruises on their precious little baby—”
A horrified breath whooshed from Carter’s lungs. She couldn’t be hearing this.
“And Louis?” Adi said.
“I thought he was the one leaving the clues. So when he bragged about his new conquest”—he scowled at Carter—“I thought I’d meet him at the hotel first, for a friendly chat.”
“In a blond wig?” Adi said.
“I couldn’t be recognized by the hotel staff, obviously.”
Obviously.
Carter’s brain moved through sludge. This Fitzy was not the host who had made her laugh with his silly antics and terrible puns. Surely not the boy who had looked at her like she was smart and special and beautiful. Surely not the boy who had kissed her like . . . like he wanted her.
“I asked him to stop leaving the clues,” Fitzy continued. “He told me it wasn’t him, but I thought he was lying. Lying to me! After years of tolerating his arrogance, his smug looks. God, that pissed me off.”
Adi groaned softly. “The note! The s. That’s what it was!”
Carter shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from the gun. “It was the gs that were—”
“No, the s. In ‘apologise.’ Please apologise to my fans. It’s been nagging at me all this time.”
Carter frowned.
“It’s the British spelling. The Australian spelling.”
“Dammit,” Fitzy said. “I always forget that one.”
“How about,” Beck said, “you let us go and we promise not to tell a single person?”
“Yeah, right. Uh-uh.” He swung the gun toward Vera, who had been trying to subtly slip her phone out of her pocket. “Away.”
Vera scowled and left her phone where it was.
“You’ve been trying to sabotage us,” Adi said. “All those threats . . .”
“I figured the easiest way to keep my job safe for another year was to make sure you didn’t make it to the finale. Ranielle only likes winners, and there was no way she’d hire Jarius or one of his cronies. The fans hate them.”
“The cow’s heart?” said Beck. “Locking us in the freezer?”
“Spiking Carter’s drink,” Sierra added with a growl. “And defiling my painting.”
“Nailed it,” said Fitzy. “Though the freezer was pure serendipity. I saw you sneak into the kitchens and used the circumstances to my advantage.”
Beck’s voice shook. “What were you doing in the complex in the middle of the night in a balaclava?”
Fitzy pressed the barrel of the gun to his lips in a shushing motion, looking almost boyish. “Meeting with Team Dread. We may have been conspiring to take you down. Nothing personal.”
Carter gaped. “You’re the reason they’ve been targeting our team with all the snags!”
“It wasn’t hard. Jarius is easy to manipulate, and he liked the idea of being the one to take down the great Kick It Carter.”
Carter’s insides churned. The way he said it, with such outright disgust.
The reality of the situation crystallized. Any lingering denial disappeared.
Fitzy had never meant a single word he’d said. All the smiles, the little flirtations . . . He’d been using her.
“I’m beginning to see why Ranielle wanted to replace you,” Adi said.
“Shut your hole,” said Fitzy, aiming the gun at Adi’s head. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
Carter didn’t know what possessed her. One moment she was cowering against the wall. The next, she was shoving her way in front of Adi, staring down the barrel of the gun.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why did you pretend . . . Why me?”
Fitzy rocked back on his heels and, to Carter’s surprise, seemed to actually be considering the question. He slowly lifted the gun, pointing it at the ceiling instead.
Carter drew an unsteady breath. Behind her, Adi pressed a hand to her arm, like he meant to shove her away, but she held her ground.
“I mean, I did always think that cartoon of yours was pretty hot,” Fitzy said at last, “even if the real you leaves something to be desired.”
Humiliation burned across her cheeks.
“Or maybe it’s because I knew you were Louis’s type, and it’s fun to play. I was surprised when he told me about your hotel date. Didn’t expect that from you, Carter.” He clicked his tongue. “Too bad I had to kill him before things got interesting.”
“You asshole,” Adi growled. “You sick, disgusting—”
Before he could finish, Sierra let out a growl and snatched the stake from Carter. “You killed my sister!”
She crouched like she was preparing to lunge at him—until Fitzy calmly replied, “I never said that.”
It stopped her in her tracks. Sierra’s face twisted, livid but confused. “You . . . But you just—”
“I wanted to keep my job. But transporting Alicia to the studio, hiding her in the coffin—that was me cleaning up someone else’s mess.”
“What?” Sierra whispered, at the same time Vera snapped, “Bull!”
“Honestly, James,” purred a distantly familiar voice. “I thought we were here to find some silly clue. I didn’t realize we’d have so much company.”
Heels clacked on the stone floor. A figure appeared, haloed by the corridor lights. There was a bang as the door closed behind her, locking them inside. Carter stepped back, pressing against Adi’s chest.
“What the hell?” he whispered.
It took Carter a long moment to realize who she was looking at, and when she did, her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach.
Symphony Parvesh. Adi’s mother.