Chapter 108.
Ward Hillshire reluctantly accompanies them in the elevator, the city spread out below the glass.
He exhales through his nose, like he’s already tired of them all.
“Think of what is about to happen as endgames,” he says. “Extreme tests designed for you all individually. Predetermined by my father long ago. And ones that he always said were nonnegotiable, unfortunately.”
“More extreme than the duels?” Alek asks. “Or the lies you’ve been feeding us from the beginning?”
“Take it up with my son afterward, if you survive one more time, Ms. Andrich,” he says.
“It really has been our firm belief all along that what doesn’t kill you in these games will make all of you stronger, and help us identify the strongest possible leader among you.
Many things have changed—just in the past few minutes. But not that.”
Alek says, “More mind games.”
Ward gives her a thin look. “Everything has been a mind game. Even when it looked like something else.”
Jack says, “What about your father? Is he actually dead? Or is that another layer?”
Ward’s jaw tightens. “He’s dead.”
Tipton says, “And your boy just took your crown.”
Ward’s eyes flicker. Not denial. Humiliation.
“He did,” Ward says. “And if you survive long enough, you can ask him why.”
He shakes his head. He’s lost a duel with his own son.
“In a few minutes, I fervently hope to be done with you, once and for all,” he says.
Tipton says, “So what’s next?”
“You will essentially be asked to compete against yourself,” Ward says. “All of you will be asked to do the same.”
Ward looks at the doors. He’d rather be anywhere else.
“You’ll be alone,” he says. “Each of you. In a room made for you.”
Jack’s voice is flat. “Made how?”
Ward meets his eyes.
“By your worst fear,” he says. “And whatever you do—don’t confuse discomfort with danger. That mistake costs people everything.”