CHAPTER 8

"Good morning! During the night, Ailyn Darrington has been executed by the mob. She was a civilian."

The announcement cut through the silence like a blade through flesh.

Kaitlyn's eyes snapped open. She was still in the empty store, still pressed against the wall, her body stiff from hours of motionless vigilance. The pale morning light filtered through the grimy windows, painting everything in shades of gray.

Ailyn.

Dead.

A civilian.

Which meant—

Kaitlyn's breath caught in her throat as the mathematics of survival clicked into place with terrible clarity.

Twenty people had started this game. Eighteen were now dead. That left two.

Herself.

And one other person.

She stood slowly, her legs trembling, and made her way toward the foyer. The mall was silent except for the usual creaks and groans of settling metal, the distant drip of water. Her footsteps echoed too loudly in the emptiness.

When she reached the foyer, she found Crystal already there, standing in the center of the space with her arms wrapped around herself. The woman looked like she'd aged a decade in the past few days—her face gaunt, her eyes sunken and red-rimmed, her hair hanging in limp strands around her shoulders.

"Crystal," Kaitlyn said.

Crystal turned, and for a moment, Kaitlyn saw something flicker across her face. Relief? Fear? It was gone too quickly to identify.

"Kaitlyn," Crystal said. Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "You're alive."

"So are you."

They stared at each other across the foyer, and Kaitlyn felt the weight of unspoken questions hanging between them.

Are you the mobster?

Am I?

"We need to find the bodies," Crystal said finally. "Ailyn and Samantha. We need to see what happened."

Kaitlyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

They found Ailyn first.

The convenience store was exactly as they'd left it—shelves picked clean of anything edible, the floor littered with empty wrappers and crushed cans. But the freezer in the back, the one they'd been using to store bodies, was different.

The door was closed but not latched. A thin line of frost had formed around the edges.

Crystal reached for the handle, then hesitated. "Do you want to—"

"Just open it," Kaitlyn said.

Crystal pulled the door open.

Ailyn sat inside, propped against the back wall of the freezer, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her skin was blue-white, covered in a thin layer of frost. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing, frozen tears crystallized on her cheeks.

She looked small. Fragile. Like a child who'd fallen asleep in the wrong place.

"Jesus Christ," Crystal whispered.

Kaitlyn forced herself to look closer, to take in the details. Ailyn's hands were pressed against the freezer door from the inside, fingers splayed. There were scratches on the metal—deep gouges where she'd clawed at it, trying to get out.

"She was locked in," Kaitlyn said. Her voice sounded distant, clinical. "While she was still alive. She froze to death trying to escape."

"The mobster did this," Crystal said. "They locked her in and left her to die."

One of us did this, Kaitlyn thought. One of the two people standing here right now.

She looked at Crystal, really looked at her. Tried to imagine this exhausted, broken woman locking Ailyn in a freezer and walking away while she screamed and pounded on the door.

Could Crystal have done it?

Could she have done it?

The thought made her stomach turn.

"We need to find Samantha," Crystal said, turning away from the freezer. "The announcement said she was executed too."

They searched the mall systematically, calling Samantha's name, checking every store, every corridor. The silence was oppressive, broken only by their footsteps and voices echoing through the empty spaces.

It was Crystal who found her.

"Kaitlyn!" The shout came from the second floor, near the offices. "Kaitlyn, I found her!"

Kaitlyn ran toward the sound, taking the stairs two at a time. She found Crystal standing outside one of the offices, staring at the door.

It was closed. Locked from the inside.

"Samantha!" Crystal pounded on the door. "Samantha, can you hear me?"

No response.

Kaitlyn tried the handle. It didn't budge. "We need to break it down."

"Stand back," Crystal said.

She took a few steps back, then charged at the door, slamming her shoulder into it. The wood cracked but held. She tried again, and this time the lock gave way with a splintering sound.

The door swung open.

Samantha sat slumped in an office chair, her head tilted back, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Blood had pooled beneath the chair, dark and congealed. Her shirt was soaked with it.

Kaitlyn stepped closer, forcing herself to examine the body. Multiple stab wounds—chest, stomach, throat. The same excessive violence they'd seen with Samantha.

"She was stabbed," Kaitlyn said. "Multiple times. Just like Samantha."

"The door was locked from the inside," Crystal said. She was standing in the doorway, her face pale. "How did the mobster get out?"

Kaitlyn looked around the office. One desk, one chair, one filing cabinet. A single window overlooking the parking lot, but it was closed and locked from the inside.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"This doesn't make sense," Crystal said. "If the door was locked and the window was locked, how did—"

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening.

"What?" Kaitlyn asked.

"Unless," Crystal said slowly, "the mobster was already in here. With her. And they locked the door together."

The implication hung in the air between them.

Unless Samantha let the mobster in. Unless she trusted them.

Kaitlyn's mind raced. Samantha had been logical, rational, careful. She wouldn't have locked herself in a room with someone she suspected of being a mobster.

Unless she didn't suspect them.

Unless she thought they were safe.

Kaitlyn looked at Crystal, and Crystal looked back, and the unspoken question was there again:

Was it you?

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

It took both of them to carry her down the stairs, and neither spoke during the process. The silence was heavy, suffocating.

When they finally laid Samantha next to Ailyn, Kaitlyn stepped back and looked at the collection of bodies. So many. Too many.

Charity. Tamika. Peter. Sean. J Mont. Melinda (twice). Jace. Samuel. Charlotte. Sam. Sev. Lexus. Travis. Ricky. Samantha. Marley. Ailyn. Samantha.

Eighteen people dead.

Two alive.

"We should talk," Crystal said.

They sat in the foyer, facing each other across the cracked tile. The morning sun streamed through the windows, but it brought no warmth.

"There are only two of us left," Crystal said. "You and me."

"I know," Kaitlyn said.

"Which means one of us is the mobster."

The words hung between them, stark and undeniable.

"Unless the game is lying," Kaitlyn said. "Unless there are no mobsters left, and it's just killing us anyway."

"The game doesn't lie about eliminations," Crystal said. "It's been consistent. When someone is voted out, it tells us their role. When someone is executed, it tells us they were killed by the mob."

"So one of us is a mobster," Kaitlyn said.

"Yes."

They stared at each other.

"I'm not a mobster," Kaitlyn said. "I'm a civilian. I've been a civilian from the beginning."

"I'm the police," Crystal said. "I proved it. I showed you my role."

"You showed me a screen," Kaitlyn said. "That could have been faked."

"How?" Crystal demanded. "How would I fake the app?"

"I don't know," Kaitlyn admitted. "But I don't know how any of this works. I don't know what's real and what's not anymore."

Crystal leaned forward, her expression intense. "Kaitlyn, listen to me. I'm not the mobster. I've been investigating people, trying to identify the mobsters. I confirmed Jace and Samuel. I identified Charlotte. I've been trying to help."

"Or you've been pretending to help," Kaitlyn said. "While actually being the mobster all along."

"That doesn't make sense," Crystal said. "Why would I identify the other mobsters? Why would I help eliminate them?"

"Because you wanted to be the last one standing," Kaitlyn said. "Because you wanted all the power for yourself."

The words came out before she could stop them, and she realized with a chill that they made a terrible kind of sense.

What if Crystal had been playing them all along? What if she'd eliminated her fellow mobsters to consolidate power, just like Charlotte had suggested before she died?

There are four mobsters, Charlotte had said. Jace, Samuel, me... and one more.

What if that fourth mobster was Crystal?

"I'm not the mobster," Crystal said again, but her voice wavered. "Kaitlyn, you have to believe me. I'm not—"

"Then who is?" Kaitlyn interrupted. "If you're not the mobster, and I'm not the mobster, then who killed Ailyn and Samantha last night?"

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

Because the answer was impossible.

One of them was lying.

One of them was a killer.

And neither of them knew which.

The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness.

Kaitlyn and Crystal stayed together, neither willing to let the other out of sight. They moved through the mall like shadows, checking doors, securing hiding spots, preparing for the night to come.

Because tonight, one of them would die.

The mathematics were simple. Two people left. One mobster. One civilian. The mobster would execute the civilian, and the game would end.

Unless the civilian could defend themselves.

Unless the civilian could kill the mobster first.

Kaitlyn found herself in the computer room, staring at the monitors. Most were dark now, the cameras having failed or been destroyed. But a few still worked, showing grainy images of empty corridors.

Crystal stood behind her, watching over her shoulder.

"Do you remember when we first found this room?" Crystal asked quietly.

"Yes," Kaitlyn said.

"You were so determined to figure out who was behind all this. To find the person running the game."

"I still am," Kaitlyn said.

"What if there is no person?" Crystal asked. "What if it's just the game itself? Just an app, running its programming, killing us according to its rules?"

"Someone created the app," Kaitlyn said. "Someone brought us here. Someone wanted this to happen."

"Maybe," Crystal said. "Or maybe we're just random victims. Wrong place, wrong time."

Kaitlyn turned to look at her. "Do you really believe that?"

Crystal was quiet for a long moment. "No," she said finally. "No, I think someone planned this. I think someone wanted us to suffer."

"Then we need to survive," Kaitlyn said. "We need to make it out of here and find whoever did this."

"One of us will," Crystal said. "The other won't."

The truth of it settled over them like a shroud.

"I'm not the mobster," Kaitlyn said again.

"Neither am I," Crystal replied.

They stared at each other, and Kaitlyn saw her own fear and confusion reflected in Crystal's eyes.

What if I am the mobster? she thought suddenly. What if I've been lying to myself this whole time? What if my role really is mobster, and I've just been in denial?

She pulled out her phone with shaking hands and opened the Murder Game app.

ROLE: CIVILIAN

The words glowed on the screen, clear and undeniable.

She showed it to Crystal. "See? Civilian. I'm a civilian."

Crystal pulled out her own phone and showed Kaitlyn the screen.

ROLE: POLICE

"I'm the police," Crystal said. "Not a mobster. The police."

They both stared at the screens, and Kaitlyn felt a hysterical laugh building in her throat.

"This is insane," she said. "We're both showing each other our roles, and we both claim to be innocent, and one of us is lying, but we don't know which one."

"Maybe we're both telling the truth," Crystal said.

"That's impossible," Kaitlyn said. "The game said Ailyn and Samantha were executed by the mob. If there's no mobster left, who killed them?"

"I don't know," Crystal said. "But I know it wasn't me."

"And I know it wasn't me," Kaitlyn said.

They fell silent, the impossibility of the situation pressing down on them.

As the sun began to set, they made their preparations.

Kaitlyn found a length of metal pipe in one of the stores—part of a broken clothing rack. It was heavy, solid. A weapon.

Crystal found a knife in the convenience store kitchen. Not large, but sharp enough.

They didn't discuss why they were arming themselves. They didn't need to.

Tonight, one of them would try to kill the other.

And the other would have to defend themselves.

"We should stay together," Crystal said as darkness fell. "If we're together, we can watch each other. Make sure neither of us does anything."

"Or we could separate," Kaitlyn said. "Make it harder for the mobster to find their target."

"And easier for them to kill without witnesses," Crystal countered.

Kaitlyn thought about it. Crystal was right—if they separated, whoever was the mobster could kill the other without anyone seeing. But if they stayed together...

"If we stay together, and one of us is the mobster, they'll just wait until the other falls asleep," Kaitlyn said.

"Then we don't sleep," Crystal said. "We stay awake all night. We watch each other."

"For how long?" Kaitlyn asked. "One night? Two? Eventually, we'll have to sleep. Eventually, one of us will let their guard down."

"Then what do you suggest?" Crystal asked.

Kaitlyn looked at the metal pipe in her hands. "We end this tonight. One way or another."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we force the mobster to reveal themselves," Kaitlyn said. "We create a situation where they have to act. And when they do, the other one will be ready."

Crystal's eyes widened. "You want to use one of us as bait."

"I want to finish this," Kaitlyn said. "I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of not knowing. I want to know the truth, even if it kills me."

"It might," Crystal said quietly.

"I know," Kaitlyn replied.

They stood in the foyer as the last light faded from the sky, two women armed with makeshift weapons, each one convinced of their own innocence, each one terrified that they might be wrong.

"How do we do this?" Crystal asked.

"We split up," Kaitlyn said. "We go to opposite ends of the mall. And we wait. If one of us is the mobster, they'll come for the other. And when they do, we'll know."

"And if we're both civilians?" Crystal asked. "If the game is just going to kill one of us anyway?"

"Then at least we'll die knowing the truth," Kaitlyn said.

Crystal nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, let's do it."

They chose their positions. Kaitlyn would take the second floor, near the offices. Crystal would stay on the first floor, near the convenience store.

"If you hear me scream," Crystal said, "come running."

"Same," Kaitlyn said.

They stood facing each other for a long moment, and Kaitlyn wondered if this was the last time she'd see Crystal alive.

Or if Crystal was wondering the same thing about her.

"Good luck," Crystal said.

"You too," Kaitlyn replied.

They turned and walked in opposite directions, and Kaitlyn felt the weight of the metal pipe in her hands, solid and reassuring.

I'm not the mobster, she told herself. I'm not. I'm a civilian. I'm innocent.

But a small voice in the back of her mind whispered: Are you sure?

Kaitlyn positioned herself in one of the offices on the second floor—not the one where they'd found Samantha, but close enough.

She sat with her back against the wall, the metal pipe across her lap, watching the doorway. The darkness was nearly complete now, broken only by the faint glow of emergency lighting from the corridor.

Every sound made her jump. Every creak of settling metal, every distant drip of water. She strained her ears, listening for footsteps, for breathing, for any sign that someone was approaching.

Crystal is the mobster, part of her mind insisted. She has to be. She's the only other person left.

But another part argued back: What if you're wrong? What if Crystal is telling the truth? What if you're the mobster and you just don't remember?

The thought was terrifying.

Kaitlyn pulled out her phone again, checking her role for the hundredth time.

ROLE: CIVILIAN

The words were still there, unchanged. But what did that prove? The app could be lying. The app had lied about other things—about Siobhan being eliminated when Charity died, about the number of mobsters, about the rules themselves.

What if it was lying about her role too?

No, she told herself firmly. No, I'm a civilian. I know I am. I remember getting the role assignment. I remember reading it.

But did she? Really?

The memories felt distant, hazy. Like they belonged to someone else.

Kaitlyn pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to force clarity. She needed to think. Needed to remember.

The bus. She remembered the bus. Remembered sitting next to Kasey, remembered the excitement of the urban exploration trip.

Kasey.

The thought of her friend sent a pang through Kaitlyn's chest. Kasey had been so helpful, so supportive. And now she was dead, killed by the mobsters along with everyone else.

Except...

Kaitlyn frowned, trying to remember. When had Kasey died? She couldn't recall a specific announcement. Couldn't remember finding her body.

She must have died during one of the mass executions, Kaitlyn thought. During the no-vote night, or one of the other chaotic moments.

But the more she tried to remember, the less certain she became.

Had Kasey died? Or was she still alive?

No, that's impossible, Kaitlyn told herself. There are only two people left. Me and Crystal. Everyone else is dead.

But what if that wasn't true? What if there were three people left, and one of them was hiding?

The thought made her skin crawl.

She stood up, gripping the metal pipe tightly, and moved to the doorway. The corridor outside was empty, silent.

"Crystal?" she called out. Her voice echoed through the darkness. "Crystal, are you there?"

No response.

Kaitlyn's heart began to pound. She stepped out into the corridor, moving slowly, carefully. The emergency lighting cast long shadows that seemed to move and shift.

"Crystal!" she called again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

She's dead, Kaitlyn thought. The mobster already got her. I'm alone.

Or...

I killed her. I'm the mobster, and I killed her, and I don't remember doing it.

The thought made her stomach turn. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall, breathing hard.

No. No, I didn't kill anyone. I'm not a mobster. I'm not.

But how could she be sure?

She thought about the bodies. Thought about the violence, the brutality. Could she have done those things? Could she have locked Ailyn in a freezer and listened to her scream? Could she have stabbed Samantha multiple times and left her bleeding in a locked office?

No, she told herself. No, I couldn't. I'm not capable of that.

But people were capable of terrible things when pushed. She'd seen it over the past few days. Seen ordinary people turn into monsters, seen fear and desperation drive them to murder.

What if she was no different?

What if the mobster role had changed her, twisted her into something she didn't recognize?

Kaitlyn sank down against the wall, the metal pipe clattering to the floor beside her. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, trying to hold herself together.

I don't know, she thought. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I've done. I don't know anything.

The darkness pressed in around her, suffocating and absolute.

And somewhere in that darkness, a mobster waited.

Maybe it was Crystal.

Maybe it was someone else, someone they'd forgotten about or never knew existed.

Or maybe—probably—it was her.

Time lost all meaning in the darkness.

Kaitlyn sat against the wall, her mind spiraling through possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. She tried to remember every moment since the game began, tried to account for every hour, every action.

But there were gaps. Moments she couldn't recall. Times when she'd been alone, when no one could verify where she was or what she was doing.

The night Ailyn and Samantha died, she thought. Where was I?

She'd been in an empty store, watching the entrance. She remembered that much. But had she stayed there all night? Or had she left at some point, moved through the mall, found Ailyn and Samantha and—

No.

She couldn't have. She wouldn't have.

But the doubt was there now, planted deep, and she couldn't uproot it.

A sound made her freeze.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, coming from somewhere below.

Kaitlyn grabbed the metal pipe and stood, pressing herself against the wall. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The footsteps grew closer. Someone was climbing the stairs.

Crystal, Kaitlyn thought. It has to be Crystal.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was someone else? What if—

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the faint emergency lighting.

"Kaitlyn?"

Crystal's voice. Familiar, exhausted, afraid.

"I'm here," Kaitlyn said, stepping out from the shadows.

Crystal turned toward her, and in the dim light, Kaitlyn could see her face—pale, drawn, eyes wide with fear.

"I heard you calling," Crystal said. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Kaitlyn admitted. "I don't know anything anymore."

Crystal moved closer, and Kaitlyn saw that she was still holding the knife. Her knuckles were white around the handle.

"We need to talk," Crystal said.

"About what?"

"About what happens next," Crystal said. "About how this ends."

They stood facing each other in the corridor, two women with weapons, each one terrified of the other.

"One of us is going to die tonight," Crystal said. "We both know that."

"Yes," Kaitlyn said.

"And one of us is the mobster," Crystal continued. "We both know that too."

"Yes."

"So the question is," Crystal said, "what do we do about it?"

Kaitlyn tightened her grip on the metal pipe. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we end this," Crystal said. "Right now. We fight. We see who survives. And whoever wins, they're the civilian. They get to leave."

"That's not how the game works," Kaitlyn said.

"Fuck the game," Crystal said. "The game has been lying to us from the beginning. The game has been manipulating us, turning us against each other. I'm done playing by its rules."

"So you want to just... kill each other?" Kaitlyn asked. "Is that it?"

"I want to survive," Crystal said. "And I want to know the truth. And the only way to do both is to force the issue."

Kaitlyn stared at her, trying to read her expression in the darkness. Was this really Crystal talking? Or was this the mobster, trying to manipulate her into a fight?

"I'm not going to attack you," Kaitlyn said.

"Why not?" Crystal asked. "If you're really a civilian, if you really believe I'm the mobster, why wouldn't you defend yourself?"

"Because I don't know," Kaitlyn said. "I don't know if you're the mobster. I don't even know if I'm the mobster. And I'm not going to kill someone based on uncertainty."

"Then you'll die," Crystal said flatly. "Because the mobster won't hesitate. When they come for you, they'll kill you without a second thought."

"Maybe," Kaitlyn said. "But at least I'll die knowing I didn't become a murderer."

Crystal laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think you're not a murderer? Kaitlyn, we've all been murderers. We voted people out. We sent them to their deaths. Charity, Siobhan, J Mont, Marley—we killed them all."

"That was different," Kaitlyn said.

"How?" Crystal demanded. "How was it different? Because the game made them kill themselves instead of us doing it directly? That doesn't change the fact that we chose who died."

"We were trying to survive," Kaitlyn said.

"So am I," Crystal replied. "Right now. I'm trying to survive. And if that means killing you, then—"

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening.

"Then what?" Kaitlyn asked, raising the metal pipe. "Then you'll do it? Is that what you were going to say?"

"No," Crystal said. "No, I—"

"You're the mobster," Kaitlyn said. The certainty hit her like a physical blow. "You're the mobster, and you've been playing me this whole time."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," Kaitlyn said. "You just admitted it. You said if killing me means you survive, then you'll do it. That's what a mobster would say."

"That's what anyone would say!" Crystal shouted. "That's what you'd say if you were in my position!"

"I'm not in your position," Kaitlyn said. "Because I'm not the mobster."

"Neither am I!" Crystal screamed.

They stood facing each other, weapons raised, both breathing hard.

And then, from somewhere below, came a sound that made them both freeze.

A laugh.

Soft, amused, familiar.

"Well," a voice said from the darkness. "This is entertaining."

Kaitlyn's blood ran cold.

She knew that voice.

Crystal spun toward the stairs, the knife trembling in her hand. "Who's there?"

Footsteps echoed through the corridor. Slow, deliberate, confident.

And then a figure stepped into the light.

Kasey.

Alive.

Smiling.

"Hello, ladies," she said. "Miss me?"

Kaitlyn's mind reeled. "You're dead. You're supposed to be dead."

"Am I?" Kasey asked, tilting her head. "Funny. I feel very much alive."

"The announcements," Crystal said. "The game said—"

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

She took a step closer, and Kaitlyn saw that she was holding something. A knife. Larger than Crystal's. The blade gleamed in the emergency lighting.

"You're the mobster," Kaitlyn whispered.

"Ding ding ding," Kasey said, her smile widening. "Give the girl a prize."

"But how?" Crystal asked. "How are you still alive? The announcements said—"

"The announcements said what I programmed them to say," Kasey said. "Because I created this game. I brought you all here. I've been controlling everything from the beginning."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"You," Kaitlyn said. "It was you all along."

"It was me all along," Kasey confirmed. "Jace, Samuel, Charlotte—they were my partners. My co-conspirators. But they got greedy. They wanted too much control. So I eliminated them."

"You killed your own partners?" Crystal asked.

"I eliminated the competition," Kasey said. "Just like I'm about to eliminate you."

She took another step forward, and Kaitlyn raised the metal pipe, her hands shaking.

"Stay back," Kaitlyn said.

"Or what?" Kasey asked. "You'll hit me? Go ahead. Try it. See what happens."

Kaitlyn's mind raced. Kasey was the mobster. Kasey had been the mobster all along. Which meant Crystal was telling the truth. Crystal was the police.

And Kaitlyn was a civilian.

They were both innocent.

And they'd been tearing each other apart while the real killer watched and laughed.

"We need to run," Kaitlyn said to Crystal. "We need to—"

But Kasey was already moving.

She lunged forward with impossible speed, the knife flashing in the darkness. Crystal screamed and swung her own knife, but Kasey dodged easily, laughing.

"Too slow," Kasey said.

Kaitlyn swung the metal pipe, aiming for Kasey's head. Kasey ducked under it and kicked Kaitlyn's legs out from under her. Kaitlyn hit the floor hard, the breath knocked from her lungs.

"Kaitlyn!" Crystal rushed forward, but Kasey was faster. She grabbed Crystal's wrist and twisted, and the knife clattered to the floor.

"Nice try," Kasey said.

And then she grabbed Crystal's chin and drove the knife across her throat in one smooth, brutal motion.

Crystal's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened—to scream, to beg, to say something—but only a strangled gurgle emerged. Her hands went to her throat, pressing uselessly against the wound as blood poured down her chest, hot and thick and unstoppable.

She tried to speak. Tried to move. But her body wouldn't obey.

Crystal collapsed to her knees, then fell forward onto her face. Her breath came in wet, rasping gasps that grew quieter and quieter until they stopped altogether.

She didn't move again.

"No!" Kaitlyn scrambled to her feet, but Kasey was already turning toward her, the bloody knife raised.

"Your turn," Kasey said, still smiling that terrible smile.

And then she charged.

Kaitlyn ran.

She ran through the corridors, down the stairs, through the empty stores. Behind her, she could hear Kasey's footsteps, steady and relentless.

"You can't run forever, Kaitlyn!" Kasey called out. "There's nowhere to go! We're trapped in here together!"

Kaitlyn's lungs burned. Her legs ached. But she kept running, because stopping meant dying.

She burst into the foyer and skidded to a halt.

The windows. The shattered window where Marley had fallen.

If she could get outside, if she could cross the boundary—

No, she realized. The boundary kills anyone who crosses it. That's not an escape. That's just another death.

She spun around, looking for another option, and saw Kasey standing at the entrance to the foyer, blocking her path.

"Nowhere to run," Kasey said. "Nowhere to hide. It's just you and me now, Kaitlyn. The way it was always meant to be."

"Why?" Kaitlyn asked. Her voice came out as a ragged gasp. "Why did you do this? Why kill all these people?"

"Because I could," Kasey said simply. "Because I wanted to see what would happen. Because I wanted to watch you all tear each other apart."

"You're insane," Kaitlyn said.

"Maybe," Kasey agreed. "Or maybe I'm just honest about what we all are. Killers. Survivors. Animals fighting for scraps."

She took a step forward, and Kaitlyn backed away, her mind racing.

I need a weapon. I need something, anything—

The metal pipe. She'd dropped it upstairs when Kasey attacked.

She had nothing.

"I kept you alive the longest," Kasey said. "Did you know that? I protected you. Kept the other mobsters from killing you. Because I wanted you to be the last one. I wanted you to understand what I'd done before you died."

"I understand," Kaitlyn said. "I understand that you're a monster."

"We're all monsters," Kasey said. "You just haven't accepted it yet."

She lunged.

Kaitlyn dodged to the side, but Kasey was fast—faster than she should have been. The knife slashed across Kaitlyn's arm, and she cried out in pain.

Blood ran down her sleeve, hot and wet.

Kasey laughed. "First blood. This is going to be fun."

Kaitlyn backed toward the shattered window, her mind racing. She needed a plan. Needed something.

And then she saw it.

Lying on the floor near the window, half-hidden in shadow.

The broken broom handle. The one Lexus had used to kill Sev.

Kaitlyn dove for it, her fingers closing around the splintered wood. She rolled to the side as Kasey's knife came down, missing her by inches.

"Oh, good," Kasey said. "You found a weapon. This will be more interesting."

Kaitlyn scrambled to her feet, holding the broken broom handle like a spear. The end was sharp, jagged, stained with old blood.

"Come on then," Kaitlyn said. "Let's finish this."

Kasey's smile widened. "With pleasure."

They circled each other in the foyer, two women with makeshift weapons, one fighting for survival, the other fighting for the thrill of it.

And somewhere above them, Crystal lay bleeding, possibly dying, possibly already dead.

The game was almost over.

One way or another, it would end tonight.

Eliminated:

Ailyn Darrington (Civilian) (Executed by Kasey; locked in freezer and froze to death)

Crystal Zdunich (Police) (Executed by Kasey; slashed throat)