CHAPTER 6

Kaitlyn didn't sleep that night.

She couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lexus's face—the terror, the betrayal, the desperate plea for someone to believe her. And then the blank expression as the compulsion took hold, driving her away into the darkness.

They'd killed an innocent person.

No. Not killed. Murdered.

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? When you voted someone out knowing they might be innocent, knowing the game would force them to execute themselves in some horrific way—that was murder. Premeditated. Calculated.

And Kaitlyn had participated.

She sat in one of the empty stores, her back against a wall, watching the entrance. Around her, the mall was silent except for the occasional creak of settling metal or the distant drip of water from a broken pipe. The darkness pressed in from all sides, broken only by the faint glow of emergency lighting that somehow still functioned after all these years.

Somewhere in this building, a mobster was awake. Planning. Hunting.

And Kaitlyn had no idea who it was.

Charlotte, her mind whispered. Melinda said it was Charlotte.

But was it? Charlotte had been so calm, so rational in her defense. She'd provided an alibi—Kasey had confirmed she was in the computer room when Melinda died. And the evidence against Lexus had been damning. The name written in blood. The shoe print. The admission of killing Sev.

Maybe Melinda really was confused. Maybe death had scrambled her memories, made her see enemies where there were none.

Or maybe Charlotte was just that good at lying.

Kaitlyn pulled out her phone, staring at the screen. The Murder Game app glowed softly, showing her role: CIVILIAN. No special powers. No abilities. Just a target waiting to be eliminated.

She thought about the roles they'd discovered so far. The doctor who could revive people—Travis, presumably, since he'd brought Melinda back. The police who could investigate identities—someone who hadn't revealed themselves yet. And the mobsters, of course. Three of them, according to the rules.

Jace had been one. Samuel another. That left one more.

Charlotte, her mind insisted. It has to be Charlotte.

But what if it wasn't? What if the real mobster was someone else entirely, someone who'd been hiding in plain sight while Charlotte drew all the suspicion?

What if it was Kasey?

The thought made Kaitlyn's stomach clench. Kasey had been her ally from the beginning, helping her investigate, working to restore the security footage. But Kasey had also provided Charlotte's alibi. And Kasey had been the one to suggest the no-vote strategy that had gotten five people killed.

No, Kaitlyn told herself firmly. Not Kasey. She's been helping.

But then again, so had Charlotte. Right up until she'd manipulated everyone into voting out Lexus.

Kaitlyn closed her eyes, pressing her palms against them until she saw stars. She was going in circles, suspecting everyone and no one. This was exactly what the mobsters wanted—paranoia, division, chaos.

She needed to think logically. Needed to—

A scream shattered the silence.

Kaitlyn was on her feet before she could think, her heart hammering against her ribs. The scream came again, high and terrified, echoing through the empty corridors.

She ran toward the sound, her footsteps pounding against cracked tile. Behind her, she could hear others emerging from their hiding spots, drawn by the same terrible noise.

The scream was coming from the second floor.

Kaitlyn took the stairs two at a time, her breath coming in ragged gasps. At the top, she nearly collided with Ricky, who was standing frozen in the middle of the corridor, his face white as paper.

"Don't," he managed to choke out. "Don't look—"

But Kaitlyn was already looking.

Travis Levitt hung from the second-floor railing, suspended upside-down by thick rope wrapped around his ankles. His arms dangled limply toward the first floor below, fingers nearly brushing the ground. His shirt had fallen down around his shoulders, exposing his torso.

And he was completely, utterly drained of blood.

His skin was the color of old parchment, stretched tight over bones that seemed too prominent, too sharp. His eyes were open, staring at nothing, the whites yellowed and sunken. His mouth hung slack, revealing teeth that looked too large in his shrunken face.

But it was the floor below that made Kaitlyn's gorge rise.

A massive pool of blood spread across the cracked tile, dark and viscous, reflecting the emergency lighting like a grotesque mirror. It had to be gallons—every drop that had been in Travis's body, drained out through cuts on his wrists and throat that gaped like obscene mouths.

"Oh God," someone whispered behind Kaitlyn. "Oh God, oh God—"

Crystal pushed past them, took one look at the scene, and vomited against the wall. The sound of retching echoed through the corridor, mixing with the sobs and gasps of the others.

Kaitlyn forced herself to keep looking, to take in every detail. This wasn't random violence. This was deliberate. Calculated. The rope was tied with professional knots. The cuts were precise, positioned to maximize blood flow. Someone had taken their time with this.

Someone had enjoyed this.

"Good morning!" The cheerful voice cut through the horror like a knife. "During the night, Travis Levitt was executed by the mob. Travis was the doctor."

The words hit like a physical blow.

Travis was the doctor. The one who could bring people back. The one who'd revived Melinda, who'd been planning to revive someone else.

And now he was dead.

"No," Melinda said, her voice breaking. "No, that's not—he was going to bring someone else back. He told me he was working on it, he just needed more time—"

"He's gone," Charlotte said flatly. "And so is any chance of revival."

"You sound happy about that," Melinda snapped, whirling to face her.

"I'm not happy," Charlotte said. "I'm realistic. The doctor is dead. That changes our strategy."

"Our strategy?" Melinda's voice was rising, edging toward hysteria. "You mean your strategy? The one where you manipulate everyone into voting out innocent people?"

"I didn't manipulate anyone—"

"You manipulated all of us!" Melinda shouted. "You got us to vote out Lexus, and she was innocent! Just like I told you! Just like I've been telling you that you're a mobster!"

"That's enough," Charlotte said, her voice cold.

"No, it's not enough!" Melinda took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists. "You killed Travis! You killed him because he could bring people back, because he was a threat to you!"

"I was asleep," Charlotte said. "We all were. The mobsters executed him during the night phase, just like the announcement said."

"Convenient," Melinda spat. "Just like it was convenient that you had an alibi when you pushed me down the stairs."

"I didn't push you down the stairs!"

"Yes, you did!" Melinda was screaming now, tears streaming down her face. "I remember! I remember your hands on my back, I remember falling, I remember—"

"You remember wrong," Charlotte interrupted. "Death scrambled your memories. You're confused."

"I'm not confused!"

"Then you're lying," Charlotte said. "Either way, I'm done listening to your accusations."

She turned to walk away, but Melinda grabbed her arm.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," Melinda hissed. "Don't you dare—"

Charlotte yanked her arm free with surprising force, sending Melinda stumbling backward. For just a moment, Kaitlyn saw something flash across Charlotte's face—something cold and vicious and utterly inhuman.

Then it was gone, replaced by careful neutrality.

"Don't touch me," Charlotte said quietly. "I won't warn you again."

They cut Travis down an hour later.

It took four of them—Ricky, Samantha, Kasey, and Samantha—working together to untie the knots and lower the body to the ground. Kaitlyn watched from a distance, unable to bring herself to help. The sight of Travis's desiccated corpse, the way it moved like a puppet with cut strings, made her stomach churn.

When they finally got him down, they discovered something else.

Carved into his chest, shallow but deliberate, were two words:

NO REVIVAL

"Jesus Christ," Ricky whispered, turning away.

"They wanted to make sure we knew," Kasey said quietly. "That's why they killed him this way. To send a message."

"What message?" Samantha asked.

"That we're on our own," Kasey replied. "No second chances. No coming back. When you die here, you stay dead."

The words hung in the air like a curse.

Kaitlyn looked around at the faces surrounding her. Eleven people had woken up this morning. Now there were ten. And one of them was a mobster.

One of them did this, she thought, staring at Travis's mutilated body. One of them tied him up, cut him open, and watched him bleed out. And then they went to sleep like nothing happened.

The thought made her skin crawl.

"We need to figure out who did this," Samantha said, breaking the silence. "Before they kill someone else."

"How?" Ailyn asked. Her voice was small, frightened. "We don't have any evidence. We don't have anything."

"We have the body," Crystal said. She'd been quiet since vomiting, standing apart from the group with her arms wrapped around herself. Now she stepped forward, her expression grim. "We can examine it. Look for clues."

"What kind of clues?" Ricky asked.

"I don't know," Crystal admitted. "But there has to be something. The mobsters aren't perfect. They make mistakes."

"Like writing 'Lexus' in blood?" Charlotte asked. "That worked out well for finding the real killer."

"That was different," Crystal said.

"How?"

"Because—" Crystal stopped, her jaw working. "Because it just was."

"Compelling argument," Charlotte said dryly.

"Shut up," Melinda snapped. "Just shut up, Charlotte. We're all sick of listening to you."

"Then don't listen," Charlotte replied. "I'm not forcing you to pay attention."

"You're forcing us to vote the way you want," Melinda said. "You manipulated everyone into eliminating Lexus—"

"I presented evidence," Charlotte interrupted. "Evidence that pointed to Lexus as the killer. If the evidence was wrong, that's not my fault."

"It is your fault!" Melinda shouted. "You're the one who—"

"Enough!" Kaitlyn's voice cut through the argument. "This isn't helping. Fighting each other is exactly what the mobsters want."

"Then what do you suggest?" Charlotte asked, turning those cold eyes on Kaitlyn. "Since you're so full of wisdom."

Kaitlyn met her gaze, refusing to look away. "I suggest we examine Travis's body like Crystal said. Look for evidence. And then we vote based on what we find, not on who shouts the loudest."

"Fine," Charlotte said. "Let's examine the body."

She walked over to where Travis lay and crouched down, studying the corpse with clinical detachment. Kaitlyn watched her, trying to read her expression, but Charlotte's face revealed nothing.

She's good, Kaitlyn thought. Too good. Like she's done this before.

"The cuts are clean," Charlotte observed. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They hit the major arteries—radial, carotid. Death would have been relatively quick, but the blood loss would have been total."

"How do you know that?" Melinda demanded.

Charlotte looked up at her. "I took anatomy in college. Pre-med."

"Convenient," Melinda said.

"It's the truth," Charlotte replied. "You can believe it or not. I don't care."

She turned back to the body, examining the rope marks on Travis's ankles. "The knots are professional. Probably military or maritime training. And the rope itself is old—probably from somewhere in the mall. A storage room, maybe."

"So we're looking for someone with military training?" Samantha asked.

"Or someone who knows how to tie knots," Charlotte said. "It's not exactly a rare skill."

"But it narrows it down," Kasey said. She'd been quiet, watching Charlotte work. Now she stepped forward, her expression thoughtful. "How many of us have that kind of training?"

"I don't," Ricky said immediately.

"Me neither," Samantha added.

"I was in the Navy," Crystal said quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. "Four years. I know how to tie knots."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"So you could have done this," Charlotte said slowly.

"I didn't," Crystal said, but her voice wavered. "I swear, I didn't—"

"But you could have," Charlotte pressed. "You have the training. The knowledge."

"So do you, apparently," Melinda interjected. "With your pre-med anatomy expertise."

"Knowing anatomy doesn't mean I know how to tie nautical knots," Charlotte said.

"But it means you know where to cut," Melinda countered. "You said it yourself—the cuts hit the major arteries. That takes knowledge."

Charlotte's expression didn't change, but Kaitlyn saw something flicker in her eyes. Calculation. Assessment.

"You're reaching," Charlotte said finally.

"Am I?" Melinda asked. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the most suspicious person here. You have the knowledge to do this. You've been manipulating the votes. And you pushed me down the stairs."

"I didn't push you down the stairs," Charlotte said, her voice hardening. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until we believe you," Melinda replied. "Which might be never."

Charlotte stood up, brushing off her hands. "I'm done with this conversation. Accuse me all you want, Melinda. It doesn't change the facts."

"What facts?" Melinda demanded.

"That you're unstable," Charlotte said coldly. "That you died and came back confused. That you're making accusations based on faulty memories and paranoia."

"I'm not paranoid!"

"Aren't you?" Charlotte looked around at the group. "She's been accusing me since the moment she woke up. No evidence. No proof. Just wild claims that I'm a mobster, that I killed her, that I'm manipulating everyone. Does that sound rational to you?"

Kaitlyn saw the doubt spreading across the faces around her. Charlotte was doing it again—planting seeds, making people question what they knew.

"She has a point," Ricky said quietly. "Melinda, you've been pretty focused on Charlotte—"

"Because she's a mobster!" Melinda shouted.

"You don't know that," Ricky said.

"Yes, I do!"

"How?" Charlotte asked. "How do you know? What evidence do you have besides your own memories, which you admit are from when you were dead?"

Melinda opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had no answer.

"That's what I thought," Charlotte said. She turned to the group. "I'm not a mobster. I'm a civilian, just like most of you. And I'm trying to survive this nightmare, just like you are. If that makes me suspicious, then fine. Suspect me. But don't vote for me based on one person's confused accusations."

"I'm not confused!" Melinda screamed.

But Kaitlyn could see it was too late. Charlotte had won. Again. The group was looking at Melinda with pity and doubt, not belief.

She's so good at this, Kaitlyn thought. Too good.

"I need to tell you something."

Kaitlyn looked up to find Crystal standing in the doorway of the empty store where she'd retreated. The other woman looked exhausted, her face pale and drawn.

"What is it?" Kaitlyn asked.

Crystal glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure they were alone. Then she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"I'm the police," she said quietly.

Kaitlyn's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"The police role," Crystal clarified. "The one that can investigate people. That's me."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need your help," Crystal said. "And because I think you're one of the few people here I can trust."

Kaitlyn studied her face, looking for signs of deception. But Crystal's expression was open, earnest.

"What do you need?" Kaitlyn asked.

Crystal pulled out her phone, showing Kaitlyn the screen. "Every night, I can ask the game about one person's identity. It tells me if they're a mobster or a civilian."

"And?"

"And I've been using it," Crystal said. "I've been investigating people, trying to figure out who the mobsters are."

"Who have you investigated?"

"Jace," Crystal said. "The night before he was voted out. The game confirmed he was a mobster."

"That's why you accused him," Kaitlyn realized. "At the vote. You knew."

Crystal nodded. "I couldn't say how I knew without revealing my role. But I knew."

"Who else?"

"Samuel," Crystal said. "The night before he confessed. Also a mobster."

"So you've confirmed two of the three mobsters," Kaitlyn said. "What about the third?"

Crystal hesitated. "That's why I'm here. I investigated Charlotte last night."

Kaitlyn's breath caught. "And?"

"She's a mobster," Crystal said. "The game confirmed it. Charlotte O'Neal is a mobster."

The words hung in the air between them.

"Melinda was right," Kaitlyn whispered.

"Melinda was right," Crystal confirmed. "Charlotte is a mobster. She pushed Melinda down the stairs. She's been manipulating the votes. And she probably killed Travis."

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"Because I'm scared," Crystal admitted. "If I reveal what I know, Charlotte will know I'm the police. And the police is a threat to the mobsters. They'll kill me."

"They'll kill you anyway," Kaitlyn pointed out. "Eventually."

"I know," Crystal said. "But I wanted to wait until I had more information. Until I could figure out who else might be working with her."

"You think there are more mobsters?"

"The rules said three," Crystal said. "Jace and Samuel are dead. Charlotte is the third. Unless—"

She stopped, her eyes widening.

"Unless what?" Kaitlyn asked.

"Unless the rules were lying," Crystal said slowly. "What if there are more than three mobsters? What if Charlotte isn't the last one?"

The thought made Kaitlyn's blood run cold. "But the game said—"

"The game says a lot of things," Crystal interrupted. "Doesn't mean they're all true."

Kaitlyn thought about it. About the way the game had twisted the rules, had forced people to execute themselves, had lied about Sev's death. Could it be lying about the number of mobsters too?

"We need to tell the others," Kaitlyn said. "About Charlotte. About what you know."

"They won't believe me," Crystal said. "Charlotte will just deny it, and everyone will think I'm lying to save myself."

"Then we make them believe," Kaitlyn said. "We present the evidence—"

"What evidence?" Crystal asked. "My word against hers? That's not evidence. That's just another accusation."

"The dry erase board," Kaitlyn said suddenly. "The one in the office. It had Charlotte's name on it."

"Charlotte wrote that herself," Crystal said. "To make herself look innocent."

"But you wrote the other names," Kaitlyn said. "Didn't you? Jace and Samuel. You were tracking the mobsters."

Crystal nodded slowly. "I was trying to keep a record. But I didn't write Charlotte's name. She did that herself, then erased it."

"So we tell them that," Kaitlyn said. "We tell them you're the police, that you've been investigating, that you confirmed Charlotte is a mobster."

"And then Charlotte kills me," Crystal said flatly. "The moment I reveal my role, I become a target."

"You're already a target," Kaitlyn said. "We all are. But if we don't stop Charlotte now, she'll pick us off one by one until she wins."

Crystal was quiet for a long moment, her expression conflicted. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. We tell them. But we do it at the vote. In front of everyone. That way Charlotte can't kill me before I reveal what I know."

"Agreed," Kaitlyn said.

They shook hands, sealing the pact.

Kaitlyn just hoped they'd live long enough to see it through.

The hours until midnight crawled by with agonizing slowness.

Kaitlyn spent most of them in the computer room with Kasey, ostensibly working on the security footage but really just trying to stay awake and alert. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat. Every sound made her jump.

"You okay?" Kasey asked at one point.

"No," Kaitlyn said honestly. "I'm terrified."

"Me too," Kasey admitted. She was staring at one of the monitors, watching the empty corridors of the mall. "I keep thinking about Travis. About what they did to him."

"Don't," Kaitlyn said. "Don't think about it."

"How can I not?" Kasey asked. "He was the doctor. He could bring people back. And they killed him anyway. They drained every drop of blood from his body and left him hanging like—like—"

Her voice broke.

Kaitlyn reached over and squeezed her hand. "We're going to stop them. Crystal and I have a plan."

Kasey looked at her. "What kind of plan?"

Kaitlyn hesitated. She trusted Kasey. But Crystal had said to keep it quiet until the vote.

"You'll see," Kaitlyn said. "At midnight. Just... trust me."

Kasey studied her face for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Okay. I trust you."

The words should have been comforting. But instead, they made Kaitlyn's stomach twist with anxiety.

What if I'm wrong? she thought. What if Crystal is lying? What if this is all a trap?

But no. Crystal had been genuinely frightened when she'd revealed her role. And her information about Jace and Samuel had been accurate.

Charlotte was a mobster. Kaitlyn was sure of it.

Almost sure.

At eleven-thirty, the group began gathering in the foyer.

Kaitlyn watched them arrive one by one, studying their faces, trying to read their expressions. Ricky looked exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. Samantha was pale and shaking, jumping at every sound. Samantha seemed calm, but Kaitlyn could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands kept clenching and unclenching.

Ailyn arrived last, looking small and frightened. She'd been quiet since Travis's death, barely speaking to anyone.

Charlotte stood near the center of the group, her expression neutral. She met Kaitlyn's eyes and smiled slightly, as if they were sharing a private joke.

Kaitlyn looked away.

"We need to vote," Samantha said, breaking the silence. "We need to figure out who killed Travis."

"We know who killed Travis," Melinda said immediately. "Charlotte did it."

"I didn't," Charlotte said calmly. "But I'm getting used to your accusations, Melinda. Feel free to continue."

"You're a mobster," Melinda said. "You killed Travis, you killed Sam, you pushed me down the stairs—"

"I did none of those things," Charlotte interrupted. "And you have no proof that I did."

"I have proof," Crystal said quietly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Crystal took a deep breath, then stepped forward. "I'm the police. The role that can investigate people. And I've been using my power every night to identify the mobsters."

The silence that followed was absolute.

"You're the police?" Ricky asked.

Crystal nodded. "I investigated Jace before he was voted out. The game confirmed he was a mobster. I investigated Samuel before he confessed. Also a mobster. And last night, I investigated Charlotte."

She turned to face Charlotte, her expression hard.

"Charlotte O'Neal is a mobster," Crystal said. "The game confirmed it. She's the third mobster. The last one."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Charlotte's expression didn't change. "That's a serious accusation."

"It's the truth," Crystal said.

"Is it?" Charlotte asked. "Or are you lying to save yourself?"

"Why would I lie?" Crystal demanded.

"Because you're the real mobster," Charlotte said. "And you're trying to deflect suspicion onto me."

"That's not—"

"Think about it," Charlotte said, addressing the group. "Crystal claims to be the police. But she's only revealing this now, after Travis is dead, when we're desperate for answers. Convenient timing, don't you think?"

"I'm telling the truth!" Crystal shouted.

"So you say," Charlotte replied. "But we only have your word for it. You could be lying. You could be the mobster, trying to eliminate me because I'm getting too close to the truth."

"What truth?" Crystal asked.

"That you killed Travis," Charlotte said. "You have military training. You know how to tie knots. You have the skills to do exactly what was done to him."

"I didn't kill Travis!"

"Then prove it," Charlotte said. "Show us evidence that you're the police. Show us something that confirms your role."

Crystal opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had no evidence. Just her word.

And Charlotte knew it.

"I thought so," Charlotte said. She turned to the group. "Crystal is lying. She's the mobster, and she's trying to manipulate us into voting for me. Don't fall for it."

"She's not lying," Kaitlyn said, stepping forward. "I believe her."

"Of course you do," Charlotte said. "You've been suspicious of me from the beginning. This is exactly what you want to hear."

"It's the truth," Kaitlyn insisted.

"It's a lie," Charlotte countered. "And if you vote for me based on this lie, you'll be making the same mistake you made with Lexus."

The doubt was spreading. Kaitlyn could see it on their faces. Charlotte was doing it again—twisting the truth, planting seeds of suspicion.

"I can prove it," Crystal said suddenly.

Everyone looked at her.

"The dry erase board," Crystal said. "In the office. I wrote the names of the confirmed mobsters on it. Jace and Samuel. I was tracking them."

"Anyone could have written those names," Charlotte said.

"But I wrote them," Crystal insisted. "And I can prove it. My handwriting matches."

"That proves nothing," Charlotte said. "You could have written them after the fact, to support your story."

"I wrote them before," Crystal said. "Before Jace was voted out. Before Samuel confessed. I was tracking the mobsters."

"So you say," Charlotte replied.

"It's the truth!"

"Then why didn't you reveal this earlier?" Charlotte asked. "Why wait until now?"

"Because I was scared!" Crystal shouted. "Because I knew if I revealed my role, the mobsters would kill me!"

"Or because you're lying," Charlotte said. "And you're only revealing this now because you're desperate."

"I'm not lying!"

"Prove it," Charlotte said. "Show us your phone. Show us the police role."

Crystal pulled out her phone, her hands shaking. She opened the Murder Game app and turned the screen toward the group.

ROLE: POLICE

POWER: Once per night, you may ask the game about any player's identity. The game will tell you if they are a mobster or a civilian.

The words glowed on the screen, undeniable.

"There," Crystal said. "There's your proof."

Charlotte stared at the screen for a long moment. Then she smiled.

"Well," she said quietly. "I suppose the game is up."

The admission hung in the air like a bomb.

"You're confessing?" Samantha asked.

"I'm acknowledging reality," Charlotte said. "Crystal is the police. She investigated me. She knows I'm a mobster." She looked around at the group, her expression calm. "So yes. I'm a mobster. I've been a mobster from the beginning."

The silence was deafening.

"You killed Travis," Melinda said, her voice shaking.

"I did," Charlotte confirmed.

"And Sam?"

"Yes."

"And you pushed me down the stairs?"

Charlotte smiled. "Yes, Melinda. I pushed you down the stairs. You were getting too close to the truth. You had to go."

Melinda lunged at her, but Ricky and Samantha grabbed her, holding her back.

"Let me go!" Melinda screamed. "Let me kill her!"

"You can't," Charlotte said. "The game won't let you. Only the game can execute players."

"Then we'll vote you out," Kaitlyn said. "We'll vote you out and watch you die."

"Will you?" Charlotte asked. She looked around at the group, her smile widening. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"What are you talking about?" Samantha demanded.

"I'm talking about the other mobster," Charlotte said.

The words hit like a physical blow.

"What other mobster?" Crystal asked.

"Did you really think I was working alone?" Charlotte asked. "Did you really think there were only three of us?"

"The rules said three mobsters," Kaitlyn said.

"The rules lied," Charlotte replied. "There are four mobsters. Jace, Samuel, me... and one more."

"Who?" Ricky demanded.

Charlotte opened her mouth to answer—

And then she started choking.

Her hands flew to her throat, her eyes bulging. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, blood began to drip from her mouth, dark and thick.

"What's happening?" Samantha asked.

"The game," Kasey said, her voice horrified. "It's stopping her from revealing the other mobster's identity."

Charlotte fell to her knees, still choking, still bleeding. Her face was turning purple, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Stop it!" Melinda shouted. "Let her talk!"

But the game didn't stop. Charlotte's body convulsed, her back arching, her fingers clawing at her throat. More blood poured from her mouth, splattering across the floor in thick droplets.

And then, with a final, wet gurgle, she collapsed.

Charlotte O'Neal lay on the floor of the foyer, her eyes staring at nothing, blood pooling beneath her head.

Dead.

"Good evening," the game's voice said, cheerful as ever. "Charlotte O'Neal has been eliminated. Charlotte was a mobster."

The announcement should have been a victory. They'd eliminated a mobster. They'd won.

But all Kaitlyn could think about were Charlotte's final words.

There are four mobsters.

One more.

And that mobster was still out there.

Still hunting.

Still killing.

The group dispersed to find places to sleep, exhausted and paranoid. Kaitlyn found herself in one of the empty stores, trying to process everything. Charlotte's words echoed in her mind. Four mobsters. But they'd only identified three: Jace, Samuel, and Charlotte herself.

Who was the fourth?

The mobster wasn't just playing the game anymore.

The mobster was controlling it.

Kaitlyn's hands trembled as she realized the horrifying truth. Someone among them had the power to manipulate the game itself. Someone had decided that Crystal was too much of a threat and had eliminated her on their own schedule, breaking the very rules that governed this nightmare.

The fourth mobster wasn't just a killer.

The fourth mobster was the architect.

They moved Charlotte's body to the freezer with the others.

No one spoke as they carried her through the mall, her blood leaving a trail of dark droplets on the cracked tile. No one looked at each other. No one wanted to acknowledge what they were all thinking.

One of them was a mobster.

One of the nine people left alive was the killer.

And they had no idea who it was.

"We should split up," Samantha said when they returned to the foyer. "Sleep in different locations. That way the mobster can't kill all of us at once."

"Or we should stay together," Ricky countered. "Safety in numbers."

"There's no safety," Melinda said quietly. "Not anymore. The mobster is one of us. They're always with us."

"Then what do we do?" Ailyn asked. Her voice was small, frightened.

"We survive," Kaitlyn said. "We make it to morning. And then we figure out who the mobster is and we vote them out."

"And if we're wrong?" Samantha asked. "If we vote out another innocent person?"

"Then we die," Kaitlyn said simply. "All of us. Because the mobster will pick us off one by one until there's no one left."

The words hung in the air, heavy with truth.

"I'm sleeping in the computer room," Kasey said. "Anyone who wants to join me is welcome."

"I'll take the convenience store," Ricky said.

"I'll stay here," Samantha said. "In the foyer."

One by one, they dispersed, heading off to their chosen hiding spots. Kaitlyn watched them go, trying to memorize their faces, their expressions.

One of them was a mobster.

One of them had killed Travis, had drained every drop of blood from his body and left him hanging like a grotesque decoration.

One of them was going to kill again tonight.

Kaitlyn just hoped it wouldn't be her.

She found herself back in the empty store where she'd spent the previous night, her back against the wall, watching the entrance.

The mall was silent except for the usual creaks and groans of settling metal. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped from a broken pipe, a steady rhythm that should have been soothing but instead set her teeth on edge.

Kaitlyn pulled out her phone, staring at the screen.

ROLE: CIVILIAN

No special powers. No abilities. Just a target.

She thought about the people who were left. Kasey, who'd been her ally from the beginning. Crystal, who'd revealed herself as the police. Melinda, who'd been killed and revived and was now consumed with rage. Samantha, calm and logical. Ricky, exhausted and frightened. Samantha, shaking and pale. Ailyn, quiet and withdrawn.

One of them was a mobster.

But which one?

Kaitlyn closed her eyes, trying to think logically. Charlotte had said there were four mobsters. Jace, Samuel, Charlotte, and one more. But who?

Not Crystal. She was the police. She'd proven it.

Not Melinda. She'd been killed by Charlotte. The mobsters wouldn't kill one of their own.

That left Kasey, Samantha, Ricky, Samantha, and Ailyn.

Kaitlyn's mind kept circling back to Kasey. Kasey, who'd been so helpful. Kasey, who'd provided Charlotte's alibi. Kasey, who'd suggested the no-vote strategy that had gotten five people killed.

But Kasey was her friend. Kasey had been helping her investigate.

Or had she?

Kaitlyn thought about it. Really thought about it. What had Kasey actually done? She'd restored some security footage—footage that showed a mysterious figure but revealed nothing useful. She'd worked in the computer room—the same room where Charlotte had supposedly been when Melinda died.

What if Kasey had been lying about Charlotte's alibi? What if she'd been protecting Charlotte because they were working together?

What if Kasey was the fourth mobster?

The thought made Kaitlyn's blood run cold.

But it made sense. It made terrible, horrible sense.

Kaitlyn stood up, her heart pounding. She needed to tell someone. Needed to warn them.

But who could she trust?

Crystal. Crystal was the police. Crystal had proven her role.

Kaitlyn left the store, moving quietly through the darkened corridors. She needed to find Crystal. Needed to tell her about her suspicions.

She was halfway to the foyer when she heard the scream.

It was cut off almost immediately, ending in a wet gurgle that made Kaitlyn's stomach turn.

She ran toward the sound, her footsteps echoing through the empty mall. The scream had come from the direction of the convenience store.

Where Ricky had said he was sleeping.

Kaitlyn burst through the door of the convenience store and immediately wished she hadn't.

Ricky lay on the floor near the freezer, his throat cut from ear to ear. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and spreading. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, his mouth frozen in a silent scream.

And standing over him, holding a bloody knife, was—

Kaitlyn's breath caught.

The figure turned, and Kaitlyn saw their face.

Saw the smile.

Saw the truth.

And then the world went black as something hit her from behind, and she fell into darkness.

Eliminated:

Travis Levitt (Doctor) (Executed by mobsters; drained of blood via rope)

Charlotte O'Neal (Mobster) (Voted out; choked/silenced by game voice)

Melinda Rhodes (Civilian) (Executed by mobsters; found tied to pillar with throat slit)