by Ella Miles
“So you whored yourself out?” he asks.
“Do you want me to slap you again?”
He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t know I was whoring myself out. He brought me here. Told me there was a game he thought I’d enjoy, and I could feel in control. He said it would bring me enough wealth that I would never have to worry again.”
“Did he tell you what you were signing up for?”
“Yes and no. He asked how far I’d be willing to go to earn unlimited freedom. I said as far as it takes.”
I pause.
Langston’s body is hard as stone, and his eyes have rage spelled out in his pupils.
“I understood what he wasn’t saying. I could read between the lines. It was my choice to come here, to play the game.”
“And he demanded a cut?”
My eyes gloss over. Yes. No. I can’t think about that—about all of the fucking pain. I’d break more than I already have. I may not be able to get through tomorrow or tonight as it is.
“No, I took everything I won.” A sly smile spreads. “And I won everything.”
Langston’s lips turn up into not quite a smile, but I know he’s impressed by me.
“Where’s the lie?” he asks after a beat.
“That’s for you to figure out.”
Everything. Almost everything is a lie, yet not enough is.
We sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, both staring out at the ocean.
“So how much time are you taking off? Another month? Six months? You plan on killing me tomorrow?” I finally ask, not hiding the disdain in my voice.
He sighs, and there is an emotion on his face that I haven’t seen since we were kids—fear.
“What happens tomorrow, huntress? How do you survive if I don’t save you like I did tonight?” Langston asks, referring to him kicking Zeke out of the games.
I shake my head. “You don’t understand how different tomorrow’s games will be.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s not something I can tell. It’s only something you can experience.”
He frowns. “Huntress…”
“You can’t save me. No one can. And I don’t need you to. Only I can save myself.”
Langston gets up and walks to the sliding door.
“What happens when we both make it to the final round?” he asks as he pauses at the door.
I lose.
“I hope you make it to the final round with me. I’d love to see you go through hell,” I reply.
16
Langston
Why did I go see her last night?
It was a mistake. Now I can’t do anything but think of her. Of her body, the sounds she made when she came. She has crept into every part of my body all day.
It’s more than that, though. I’ve played her little story in my head over and over, and I can’t figure out the lie. I also can’t figure out who Duncan is.
It’s probably because he doesn’t exist. That’s the lie—his name. That way, I can’t look up to see who she’s working with.
I throw my phone in frustration after once again coming up empty on my search for information on the owners of this yacht and fucked up game.
There is a knock at my door.
I huff as I stand and walk over to it.
“Yes?” I answer while throwing the door open.
Beckett is standing in my doorway with a stack of two to-go coffee cups and a raised eyebrow. I’m always impressed with how he’s adapted to a life with only one arm.
“You look like hell,” he says as he pushes the top cup into my hands and walks inside my room.
“Thanks,” I say. The hot liquid runs down my throat while I hope it turns everything around for me. It’s only a couple hours until midnight, but I’m going to need the coffee to stay awake all night, especially since I haven’t slept.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
“Yea, Liesel got into my head.” I run my hand through my hair, messing it up even more.
“Women.” Beckett shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why I’d ever let a woman bother me. “You and Liesel aren’t together though, right? So why do you let her affect you so much?”
“Our relationship is complicated. I want to kill her most of the time.”
“But you also want to fuck her?” Beckett says with a grin.
“Something like that,” I grump.
“But you don’t love her?”
“No.” I could never love her.
“Hmmm, then fuck her and get over her.”
If only it were that easy.
“What about you and Nora? Isn’t she going to be pissed that you let some woman suck your dick?”
“I actually fucked the second woman.”
I frown. Nora will kill him. “You need to withdraw. I don’t want to ruin any more relationships than I have to. I’ll be alright. I don’t need anyone to stay in the game just for me.”
“Nora and I broke up. I’m a free man. And I plan on staying and helping for as long as I can. So far, I’ve quite enjoyed myself.”
I chuckle. “Well, I’m sorry about you and Nora.”
He shrugs. “I’m not. It was fun while it lasted, but we were never meant to be together.”
“You don’t have to be loyal to me just because I work with your brother.”
“I’m not. You’re as much a part of this family as I am. And we protect our family.”
I nod, thankful that I have someone here. I have no idea what tonight holds. Beckett and I have never been as close as any other pair in the group, but I’m thankful nonetheless.
“Don’t push yourself too far tonight to defeat Liesel. If she wins, we can steal the money again like before,” Beckett says nonchalantly.
We can’t.
And I’m beginning to think I need to win for more reasons than just keeping the money from Liesel. Something feels off about everything Liesel said last night. It feels like she’s begging for help, for a way to escape. I want her dead, but at my hands. No one else gets to bury Liesel except for me.
A few minutes later, Beckett leaves. I take my time getting dressed once again in my suit that has somehow been dry cleaned and delivered to my room. Then I don the mask, tying it around the upper half of my face.
The mask is supposed to make me feel invincible, discreet and hidden. I hate hiding, though. I’d rather fight head-on. I didn’t give a fake name when we boarded, because I’d rather everyone know exactly who I am. Hopefully, I can take my mask off in the final round.
I glance at the clock in my room—a quarter till midnight.
Showtime.
I walk into the hallway and up the stairs, the caffeine buzzing through my body, making me feel alive and ready.
I’m ready for whatever I face tonight.
When I reach the top deck, the air feels different than last night. Last night everyone was chatting; there was a nervous, excited energy about the crowd. Tonight, it’s all anxious nerves. There is no small talk between the eight remaining participants. Only about half the people up here even have a drink in their hand. Everyone has a solemn, ready to go to war look in their eyes.
Everyone left came to win.
“It feels eery up here. I feel like everyone here knows what’s about to happen except for us,” Beckett whispers.
I nod. I feel the same.
There are five men, including Beckett and myself.
Two women.
And…
Liesel.
I tried to ignore the pull I felt when I stepped foot up here, but it’s here, plain as day.
She’s wearing a different dress than last night. This one is all black, and she has a black mask. The only thing that isn’t black on her body is her dark red lipstick.
How did she get a new dress?
Everyone else here is wearing a dry cleaned version of what they wore the night before.
What game is this, Liesel? Why d
id I let my anger out last night? I should have demanded a truth instead of a lie. Then I might have a damn clue what this stupid game is.
I look at Liesel, trying to gain any insight from her expression. I find nothing. She’s solid stone. Expressionless and unbending.
I stare her down. I’m going to destroy you, and then I’m going to take you back to my island, and we are going to finish what we started.
“Congratulations, everyone, on making it to the second night,” Mr. Reyes says, holding a glass of champagne in his hand.
An employee carries a tray of champagne glasses around the deck, offering a glass to everyone.
I turn it down. I don’t want to drink sweet champagne right now.
“Tonight will be much different than last night. Last night was about dipping your toes into this world. Tonight, you’ll dive headfirst into the deep end.” He smirks like he knows a secret that will ruin all of us.
I grind my teeth and my hands fist. Out with it!
“Last night you had complete control over the situation. Tonight, you’ll lose all control. The only power you’ll be able to wield is the ability to say your safe word and leave the game.”
I glance at Liesel again. She can’t lose control. I can’t lose control.
How are we going to survive?
Liesel looks into my soul. We won’t.
Fuck.
“Tonight, I’ll draw names to decide your partner each round, but that partner won’t be the one pushing you. The owner of the game will be selecting a challenge for each of you. You won’t be fighting against each other. You’ll be fighting against yourself. Your worst demons. The darkest part of your soul.”
I’ve fucked plenty of women in my life. Phoenix and I may be legally married, but we aren’t tied to only fuck each other. We aren’t lovers in that sense. Have we fucked? Yes. But it’s never crossed to love or loyalty to each other.
I’m a free man. I can fuck whoever and whenever and however I want. I can’t imagine a sexual act that I wouldn’t be willing to do, not if it meant destroying Liesel a little more.
Bring it on.
“The rules are also different tonight. There are two ways you get knocked out of the game—either by using your safe word or by not completing the challenge. Once you are knocked out, you will get to watch the rest of the games from a safe room. Any questions?”
The room is silent. I have so many, but I’m not going to ask any of them. I’m not going to appear weak in any way.
I haven’t been weak since I was a boy.
Never again.
Mr. Reyes starts pairing off people, until there are only four of us left: Liesel, me, Beckett, and another man.
I exhale.
I don’t even know who I want to be paired with anymore.
“Ms. White and Mr. Beckett.”
Liesel and Beckett are paired together.
Beckett gives me a cocky wink as he walks toward her. I don’t think I can handle the two of them together.
A low growl escapes. It’s a territorial growl, but Beckett takes the hint.
He nods once.
That leaves me and the remaining man to be paired.
I have nothing against men fucking each other; I’m just not gay. But I have a feeling this isn’t about who you’re partnered with. This is going to be different. I just don’t understand how.
“The first and the last couples drawn will go first. Each of you will be led to the two rooms where you will be completing your challenges, while the rest of you will be led to the viewing area. Once the challenges are finished, you’ll swap places.”
That means Liesel will be able to watch me, and I’ll be able to watch her.
“Gentleman, if you’ll follow me,” a woman in a simple black dress says. She’s not wearing a mask, the clue that she’s an employee and not a player.
We follow her down from the top to the bottom deck. It feels like we are walking down into a dungeon, possibly to our deaths as we descend deeper into the ship.
She opens a door and holds it open for us as we step inside. The room is about twice the size of the bedrooms on the ship. It has a king-sized bed in the center, but otherwise, there are no whips, chains, bludgeons—nothing that makes it seem anything other than an ordinary bedroom. The only light comes from two light shades on either side of the bed. There are no windows or other light sources I can see.
The woman steps in after us and closes the door behind her.
“Mr. Pearce, this challenge is for you. You’ll have five minutes to mentally prepare, and then the challenge will start. You are required to do and accept everything on the card to complete your challenge. Understand?”
“Yes.”
She smiles tightly. “Here you go. You have five minutes.” She hands me a standard-sized index card.
I read through it quickly as my skin turns pale.
How?
I’m going to kill Liesel. She had to have told someone who I am and about my past. That’s the only way they could have picked out this specific challenge for me. Although, I stupidly gave my real name and made it simple for them to find me.
The card is basically all of my fears thrown into one twisted game.
They know I was beaten as a kid.
And that’s exactly what I have to do—beat another and then get beaten while climaxing.
Who thinks up these sick challenges?
I glance up in the corner of the room, looking for a camera, but I find none. My eyes cut around the room; the wall seems completely flat. I don’t see any indication of a camera, but there must be one somewhere.
The man who is partnered with me sits on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t given any instructions. He doesn’t know what my challenge is.
I have less than five minutes to decide if I’m going to do this task or not.
Liesel, what did you do? What horror will your task be?
She’ll do it, whatever it is. She’s done it before. This round can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.
Why?
What the hell am I missing? There has to be easier ways to get money.
I close my eyes in thought. I’m already going to hell; what difference does it make if I do this? This man is a man, not a boy. He can say his safe word and stop. This is for millions of dollars. This is to stop Liesel. This is for so much more…
When I open my eyes, it’s like the room has transformed.
Smoke has started to billow in, making it hard for me to see anything except a small table that has been placed in front of me with a man’s belt lying on it.
They couldn’t even give me a whip; they had to give me a belt—my father’s tool of choice.
You can do this. This is just like any other time you’ve beaten a criminal for information. This will be no different. The man who is playing isn’t a good person. If he was, he wouldn’t be here.
I walk over to the table with the belt. There is a single white card attached to it. I yank it off.
20 lashings with the belt.
20 with your fist.
Repeat until he breaks, until he uses his safe word.
Fuck.
This is about me or him.
Either I win or he does.
Don’t show weakness. You’re giving a grown man a lashing—something you experienced nightly as a child.
Liesel was right; I’ll be living through hell. As much as I don’t want to do the first part, the second part is what is going to fuck with my mind. The second part is going to try and twist my worst nightmare with sex. I may never be able to fuck normally again.
The smoke parts, and I see my partner. Except I’m not sure he’s my partner. He looks younger. He’s no longer in a suit; he’s in shorts and a T-shirt. He seems smaller, weaker. He wears a new mask, one that isn’t as dark. This one is white, pure.
He’s a grown man. He’s not a child. But damn did they do a good job of tricking my mind.
“Begin,” a man’s deep voice
comes through a speaker in the room.
At the sound of his unfamiliar voice, I decide I’m going to see this through. I realize the voice must somehow be that of someone I know. If he’s the one in charge of these games, then the only way to meet and destroy him is to win.
I’m now more determined than ever to win.
I smirk.
I probably look like a sadistic asshole. But when I do this challenge, all I’ll be thinking about is the voice. How he screwed up by letting me play these games. I will win and will end his life.
I pick up the belt.
It feels strange in my hands. My head wants to start making the connection to my father, but I don’t let it.
All I think about is him—the guy behind the voice.
He used his voice to threaten me. To make me feel small, but it fueled everything inside me.
I crack the belt across the man’s back—striking with everything I can. The best way to win is to start strong. To make him think this is only my first gear, that I can go higher, hit harder. Put the fear into him. Fear that he won’t be able to survive. That he won’t know when this stops. He didn’t get a card. He has no clue how long he has to endure, which I realize must be his challenge.
He doesn’t know that if he survives, the roles will be reversed except so much worse for me. I have to find a way to make my body come while enduring the pain.
Stop thinking.
I hit again—two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I act cool and collected with each strike. I don’t grunt or show any sound of strain as I use the belt to hit him. I’m silent. I’m composed. In my head, I’m thinking of all the ways I’ll kill the voice.
Twenty.
Now for twenty hits with my fist.
This is actually easier for me. I’m used to fighting with my fists. It actually makes it less personal. And maybe the guy will fight back—that would make me fight on instinct instead of hitting him because a damn card told me to.
I carefully place the belt back on the table, hoping I won’t have to pick it up again. And then I walk toward the man, every footstep loud and heavy, telling him of his impending doom.