When the yacht slid up to the dock, the sun was high and brutal, baking the sea into something sharp and glittering.

Preston was the first to jump into the water.

He stripped off his shirt mid-run, shoes forgotten on the deck, and cannonballed into the blue like it had personally invited him. A massive splash followed.

“Oh my god,” Nina muttered, shielding her face.

Sasha clapped from the dock, her laugh echoing across the cove. “Babe, you’re insane!”

Joseph hung back a little, watching the others unload bags. Towels. Speakers. Wine with labels you couldn’t pronounce unless you were born into money.

Leo looked over. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, hoisting his camera bag over his shoulder. “Just dry.”

Leo nodded and headed down the dock to help Nina with the cooler. Jude had already kicked off his shoes and was calculating which stretch of sand had the least foot traffic. Amelia didn’t pause—she walked straight onto the beach like she belonged there. Of course she did.

Celeste peeled off her sweater in one fluid motion and followed.

Joseph looked away.

Lena shoved Eli lightly as they walked past. “If you splash me, I’ll drown you.”

“You said that last year,” Eli said, winking. “And the year before.”

They laughed—loud and messy, as always—and sprinted straight into the shallows.

Joseph took off his shoes and stepped into the sand. It was warm and familiar. This part always was—the beginning.

They stayed at the beach for hours, with sun on their skin, salt in their hair, and cold drinks going warm in the cooler. Max tried to start a volleyball game and failed miserably. Jude refused to play anything that involved sunburn. Amelia read a magazine no one else could see. Celeste danced in the tide with Sasha and Nina while the guys threw rocks at nothing.

Joseph watched from a towel, occasionally raising his camera.

He took photos of moments no one would remember until they were gone: a flash of hair in the wind, a bottle catching light, Preston kissing Sasha with sand still stuck to his face.

It almost felt like a good day.

Almost.

By the time they returned from the beach, the sun had already slipped behind the hills, painting the sky in colors too soft for what was to come.

The walk back to the villa was lazy at first—towels slung over shoulders, laughter trailing behind like it always did. Salt clung to their skin. Someone was still carrying the speaker, half-dead now, the music warping with every bump.

Then they reached the porch.

And everything felt wrong.

The villa was different.

The lights inside were on, but colder and brighter than before. The furniture through the windows looked unfamiliar—sleeker and newer. Opaque panels replaced the glass doors that they remembered.

“Did you redecorate?” Sasha asked, glancing at Preston.

“No,” Preston said. “It’s the same.”

“It’s not,” Jude replied. “The kitchen used to open to the back deck. It’s bricked off.”

Preston frowned, stepping forward to try the door. “That’s weird.”

They entered slowly, one by one. Joseph stayed near the back.

The layout had changed.

Walls were where there hadn’t been any. Doors that used to lead to closets now opened into narrow halls. The furniture was newer. Colder.

And the hallway upstairs—lined with identical white doors—stretched longer than Joseph remembered.

“Why does this feel like a haunted Airbnb?” Max asked, half-laughing.

“Is this a joke?” Nina turned to Preston. “Tell me this is a joke.”

“It’s not,” Preston said. He looked genuinely confused. That made it worse.

Jude moved ahead, testing one of the doors. “It’s locked.”

“Guys,” Amelia said. “Come look at this.”

She pointed at a plaque with shiny gold lettering on one of the doors, just above the handle.

Celeste Monroe

A beat of silence.

The next door: Max Delaney

Then Sasha Reed.

They checked them all.

Every single one had a name, including Joseph’s.

“Alright, Preston,” Jude said carefully. “If this is some weird escape room idea—”

“It’s not,” Preston cut in. “I swear to god, I didn’t do this.”

“I don’t like this,” Lena said. “This is—”

“Wait,” Eli said, pointing. “There’s one more.”

At the very end of the hall: Preston Vale

The only door was slightly ajar.

He pushed it open, and the rest followed.

It wasn’t a bedroom.

The walls were white. The ceiling. The floor. No windows. No furniture.

Just a single metal chair in the center, under a bulb that shouldn’t have been there.

“What the hell,” Max whispered.

The lights cut out.

A collective gasp filled the hallway, followed by someone stumbling. Sasha’s voice rose in the dark.

“Preston—what is this?”

“I swear I don’t—”

A sharp bang echoed through the villa, followed by the hiss of static.

Then footsteps.

Heavy. In sync.

They came from behind. Black boots. Black gloves. Black masks.

Several of them, with guns.

Everyone froze.

Max raised both hands like he was in a movie. “Okay. Okay. What the hell is this?”

The masked figures said nothing. One held up a remote and pressed a button.

A screen flickered to life on the wall of Preston’s white room.

The video was grainy, and the voice was distorted—it had been run through a filter that made it sound mechanical and human.

“Welcome,” it said, slow and even. “You’ve all been chosen to participate in a series of games.”

Amelia scoffed. “This is a joke. Right?”

“Each round,” the voice continued, “will end with one of you eliminated. The rules are simple. Win, or disappear.”

Nina’s voice shook. “What does that mean?”

“You will return to your designated rooms between each round,” the voice said. “They’ve been prepared for you.”

The screen cut to a grainy security feed—eleven rooms, doors labeled with their names, clean and clinical. No windows.

Max stepped back. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

Leo put an arm out protectively in front of Nina.

Jude narrowed his eyes at the screen. “Who are you?”

The voice ignored the question.

“Your first game begins tomorrow morning. Get some rest.”

And then it ended. The screen went black.

No one moved.

The masked men turned and walked out without a word. The door to Preston’s room slammed shut behind them with a magnetic click.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Then Eli laughed, sharp and shaky. “Alright. Cool prank. You got us, right?”

 He looked at Preston, then Jude. “Right?”

Preston shook his head slowly, eyes wide.

“Not me.”

Jude looked just as shaken. “I would’ve made it better than this.”

Amelia looked around. “Do we… go to our rooms?”

The silence was heavier now. Not even Max had a joke.

Joseph didn’t say a word.

He just stood in the hallway, eyes on the closed door.

In his mind, the screen still flickered—the static, the words, the grainy echo of the room they’d all seen.

Eleven names. Eleven doors.

His face had been on that screen, too.

Only half visible.