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CONAN

D isappointment crashes over me like a wave when I rip the mask off.

Still not Hallie.

She’s unconscious—this one actually passed out, which, for once, works in my favor. I haul her up, her body limp and useless in my arms, and pass her off to Reggie.

“Maybe have Finn check her over. I think she just needs to come round,” I mutter.

“Fine,” he grunts, hoisting her over his shoulder like it’s just another job. Another body. Another failed face.

He glances back at me. “Any sign of your girl?”

My pulse stutters.

No matter how many lies I feed myself, the guilt is crawling up my throat like it wants to choke me.

“No.”

He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “Well, she’s won. She won’t be far away.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the trees with the last not-Hallie, headed for the elimination cabin.

It’s just me and her now.

I feel it in the marrow of my bones.

Hallie is smart. Strategic. She’s not sprinting blindly through the woods like the rest of them. No. My girl is hiding. She’s conserving her energy. Letting the fear do the work.

She’s out here. Watching. Waiting.

And I can feel her. Not in some poetic, distant way. I mean, I feel her. The static in the air. The sweat slicking my palms. The sick twist in my gut.

She's close.

I head back to where I caught the last contestant. There was something there. A flicker. The air shifted, just for a second.

Now I move quietly. Like a predator stalking its prey, only this time, I don’t want the kill. I want the impossible.

I want her to tell me it’s okay.

But I also want her to surrender. To see me. To choose me.

My steps are slow. Then I stop entirely.

And I wait.

Every breath is a stone in my chest. Every second ticks louder than the one before.

Because this is the edge of the cliff.

The place where everything ends. Or begins. I’m not sure anymore.

And I know, the moment I lay eyes on her, it’s over for me.

My rules. My games. My carefully constructed empire of retribution and justice and survival—it all crumbles at her feet.

There’s a crack. Twigs snapping at my three o’clock.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe.

Then another sound. Light footsteps, like she’s trying not to exist.

She’s not running.

She’s hunting for her moment.

I slide behind a tree, my back pressed to the bark, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to warn me.

This is it.

She’s coming down from whatever perch she’s been hiding in.

And I know—without a single doubt—that when I see her, everything I’ve fought to keep buried will come roaring back to life.

I’m not ready.

But I have no choice.

Because Hallie is about to step into my line of sight.

And once she does, nothing will ever be the same again.