The lock clicked again. Joseph opened the door slowly, already knowing what he would see. Another red X painted across Sasha’s door—fresh, cruel, and still dripping. It didn’t shock him this time, which was the worst part. The horror had settled in like dust, and now it just… stayed.

He stood in the hallway and watched the others emerge one by one. Sleep-starved. Bandaged, stained with a silence that clung like wet clothes. Max muttered something under his breath. Eli didn’t even glance at Sasha’s door; he just kept walking. They all knew.

Nine of them now.

They ended up in the living room again—not because they wanted to, but because there was nowhere else to go. The house was a cage, and that room was the center of it. No one sat. Max paced. Preston leaned on the back of a chair, his face pale and twitchy.

“I’m telling you,” he said, “this isn’t me. I didn’t do this.”

“You keep saying that,” Eli replied. “But the rest of us didn’t plan this getaway.”

“Oh my god—” Preston shoved away from the chair. “You’re blaming me again? Again? After everything?”

“You brought us here,” Amelia said quietly, not angry, just tired.

“I didn’t bring a death cult, Amelia!” Preston snapped. “I brought us to a villa with a swimming pool and decent Wi-Fi!”

“You brought Sasha,” Joseph said. “And now she’s gone.”

That hit harder than anyone expected. Preston’s face cracked. For a moment, Joseph thought he might cry. Instead, he turned to the window as if he could punch through the glass and run.

“You think I could’ve let that happen to her?” Preston’s voice was hoarse.

In the corner, Jude knelt by the door, fingers working quickly over the lock panel with a piece of metal he had pried from a broken chair. His brow was furrowed, jaw tight.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he muttered, not looking up. “But if there’s a way out, I will find it.”

And that was when the screen turned on again. The familiar static fizzed into life. Joseph’s stomach dropped. He didn’t move; he just stared, while the others slowly turned toward it, each face shifting into something harder, something braced.

The voice came through the speakers, smooth and steady: “Good morning, players.” No one answered. The voice didn’t care.

"Before your next challenge… a moment of reflection.”

The screen changed. Lena appeared. Bound and gagged, her eyes wide with fury and fear. Then Sasha, her head hanging, her whole body shaking. And then… the masked man. He entered the frame like he belonged there. No rush. No threat. Just silence.

He placed a scratched-up power bank in Lena’s hand. She flinched as if it burned her. Then he handed over a letter—crumpled, folded, stained—passed to Sasha like a curse. The room went dead still.

“That’s not public,” Leo said, his voice tight. “No one outside the group ever saw that power bank.”

“Or that letter,” Celeste added, barely above a whisper. “No one knew Sasha wrote that but us.”

Amelia crossed her arms. “And now they’re throwing it in our faces.”

“They’re punishing us,” Max muttered. “Whatever they think we did… they’re picking us off one by one.”

Jude glanced between the others. “Okay, but who the hell could know this much? Who had access?”

All eyes turned—again—to Preston. He backed away a step. “Are you serious? Again?”

“Then who did?” Amelia snapped.

Silence.

The screen flickered again. And then it played— not distorted, not hidden, just… real—Grainy, handheld, but unmistakable. The first clip showed all of them, crowded around a backyard fire pit, half-drunk and loud. A game night. Two summers ago. Lena stood at the circle's edge, laughing and holding a drink too close to her face.

“I didn’t know the power bank would blow up that much,” she snorted. “You said just enough to fry it, not start a fire.”

A chorus of laughter followed—Sasha’s, Max’s, Preston’s. The group went still.

“That night—” Jude started, his voice low. “That was Joseph’s camera.”

The next video cuts in without warning. Sasha appeared on a balcony, with the phone in one hand and the braid falling over her shoulder. “Bruh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was a harmless rumor. If anyone believed it, that’s on them.”

The audio cut out. Cut to black. Silence. Max’s voice cracked through it. “No. No, no, no—that’s from Joseph’s camera, right?”

Joseph’s stomach dropped. Nina turned. “Those were real?”

“I remember that night,” Amelia murmured. “That was the lake house. You were filming everything, Joseph.”

All eyes were on him now. Joseph swallowed. “I didn’t show anyone those clips.  I lost the camera. It’s been gone for years. I thought someone stole it.”

“You were going to delete them?” Jude asked quietly.

Joseph hesitated. “I didn’t get the chance. I forgot I even filmed this... I was just trying to capture the moment.”

“But someone did,” Max said, stepping forward. “Someone has your camera. Someone’s been playing these videos like receipts. And somehow—coincidentally—those are the same two girls who disappeared?”

“You think I did this?” Joseph asked, his voice rising. “You think I knew?”

“Did you?” Eli pressed.

Joseph turned, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want me to say, Eli? Did I plan this? That I’m the one who dragged them out of here? Do you really think I’d hurt—”

“Of course you knew!” Max snapped suddenly, voice sharp, too loud—too fast.

The room fell into a strange silence.

Everyone stared at him.

Max blinked, like he’d just heard himself. He gave a forced laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean—like, come on, man. You’re quiet. Observant. Creepy camera guy. You notice everything, right? That’s all I meant.”

No one said anything.

Max cleared his throat. “Anyway.”

Eli didn’t look away from Joseph. “So?” he said, low. “Did you?”

Joseph exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “No. I didn’t know anything.”

“You had the camera, Joseph! You idiot!” Max snapped. “You filmed them. You kept the footage. Now it’s being used as—what, leverage? A threat?”

“We don’t even know if they’re dead,” Leo said, his voice steady but low. Controlled. “This might not be execution footage. It could be blackmail. Psychological warfare.”

Celeste looked at the blank screen. “Or a warning.”

“They could still be alive,” Nina added softly. “Right? This might just be… punishment.”

“Like a game show with torture,” Max muttered. “Fun.”

Leo stepped in front of Joseph. “You didn’t do this,” he said firmly, addressing the others now. “We all remember those nights—those moments. We were careless. We all said things on camera. The only reason it’s Joseph’s footage is that he was behind the lens.”

“But it’s his camera,” Jude pointed out. “And whoever is running this seems to have it.”

Joseph said nothing.

There was nothing left to say.

Even if he didn’t send the footage.

Even if he didn’t create this game.

He had given someone the tools.

And now Lena and Sasha were gone.

Wherever that might be.