The forest was dark.

Joseph crouched low behind a crooked tree trunk, his breath shallow. The tight and metallic collar itched against his skin, already cold with sweat. His fingers closed around the tool in his pocket—the key, the only thing stopping what was coming. He hesitated for half a second, then shoved it into the clasp behind his neck.

Click.

There was a soft whir and a green blink. The collar loosened, and Joseph ripped it off.

His heart raced.

The walkie had said sixty seconds—then it would detonate. He hurled the collar hard over the rocks toward the trees. It bounced once, twice—

BOOM.

The blast cracked through the silence like a gunshot—dull, muffled. It was far enough away, but still too close. He didn’t wait. He ran.

Behind him, distant footsteps pounded through the brush—heavy boots. The masked men. They’d heard the detonation. Joseph didn’t look back. He sprinted deeper into the trees, dodging thorns and branches, his lungs burning with cold air and fear. His flashlight was off; only moonlight and instinct guided him. Somehow, miraculously, he wasn’t caught.

He dropped behind a slope, panting, his heart battering against his ribs. That was one collar—eight more to go.

He found Leo just before 1 a.m. Or maybe Leo found him. Joseph saw movement through the trees—a flicker of light and a shoe's shine. He crept closer, ducked low, and hissed, “Leo.” 

The flashlight swung toward him. A second later, Leo was shoving him back.

“What the hell—! Joseph?”

“Don’t yell,” Joseph whispered.

Leo froze. “Where’s your collar?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? Are you—are you trying to get yourself shot?”

“I need you to listen to me. Please.”

Leo stepped back, eyes narrowed, walkie clenched in one hand. “You’re the hunter.”

“No,” Joseph said. “I’m not.”

“Then what—”

“The collars are bombs.”

That made Leo stop—just for a second.

“…What?”

“They’re rigged—time-sensitive. If I don’t remove them before sunrise, they’ll blow.”

Leo’s expression twisted, confused, and angry. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

“You could’ve taken yours off just to trick us. That walkie said—”

“My walkie said something else,” Joseph cut in, sharper now. “I got a second message. I have the key, Leo. It’s real.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out—the small black device glinting in the dark. “This unlocks the collars. It’s the only thing that can.”

Leo stared at it, then at Joseph. “You expect me to trust you?”

“I expect you to want to live.”

Silence.

Leo’s voice dropped, low and bitter. “If you’re the hunter… if this is some twisted game… are you going to kill us just to win?”

Joseph flinched. “You think I want any of this?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I saved you once already, Leo. Sophomore year, remember? You tried to climb the roof of the theater building like a jackass. You fell halfway, and I hauled you back up.”

Joseph gave a faint, breathless laugh. “I recorded the whole thing. You made me promise never to show anyone.”

He met Leo’s eyes. “And I didn’t.”

Leo didn’t speak.

Joseph took a breath. “You don’t believe the words? Fine. Believe the history.”

Silence again.

Then—barely audible—Leo muttered, “This better not get me killed.” He turned around slowly. Joseph crouched behind him, hands trembling as he slid the tool into the metal clasp.

Click.

A blink of green.

The collar released. Joseph grabbed it and threw it far over a ridge into the woods.

BOOM.

The blast rattled the air. Leo stumbled back a step, staring into the smoke. His hand hovered near his throat, as if the weight of what had just been there was suddenly unbearable. His voice came out hoarse. “That was real.”

Joseph nodded. “Yeah.”

“I wore that. Around my neck.”

“Yeah.”

Leo didn’t move for a second—then he exhaled, sharp and shaken. “Fuck.”

“They’ll come now,” Joseph said. “We need to move.”

But Leo stayed frozen another beat, staring at the smoke curling through the branches, as if he still couldn’t believe what had almost ended him.

Joseph tugged his arm. “Leo—come on.”

They ran into the trees, over stones slick with moss, past twisted roots and dead leaves that cracked like bones beneath their feet. Ahead of them, the island opened up.

Still seven collars ticking.

Still seven friends who thought he was going to be the monster.

Still one night to save them all.

They didn’t make it far. Sharp and fast flashlights swept through the trees, like blades in the dark. The sound of heavy, trained boots followed. Joseph pulled Leo down behind a slope, his heart pounding. They hit the ground hard, their breath tangled.

“Don’t move,” Joseph hissed.

But it was already too late.

A masked man stepped into the clearing, his flashlight instantly locking on Leo’s shoulder.

“You,” he said flatly. “Leo Whitmore. Stand up.”

Leo froze.

No answer.

More boots. Two more men emerged from the trees, rifles slung, their eyes scanning the brush behind Leo. They didn’t see Joseph, still crouched low behind a fallen log, barely breathing.

“You’ve been flagged for monitoring,” one of them said.

Leo stared. “What does that mean?”

“On your feet.”

He hesitated. Then he rose slowly, eyes still flicking around the trees, past the rocks, past the ridge. He stopped.

Just for a second, his gaze caught on something behind the log. He couldn’t quite see Joseph, but something shifted in his expression—confusion, hurt. It was as if he had spotted something he wasn’t supposed to see, something he almost understood but didn’t like.

Joseph didn’t move or blink. Leo didn’t call out; he let them take him.

One masked man grabbed his arm while another stepped behind him, guiding him intently into the woods. There was no struggle, no violence. They disappeared between the trees—just flashlights fading and boots receding into the dark.

Joseph stayed where he was, his stomach tight and his heart thudding—flagged for monitoring? What did that mean? Were they taking Leo somewhere safe? Had he been eliminated? Was he… safe?

His fingers brushed against the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. Then came the static.

A familiar voice, cold and amused, crackled through the device. “A reminder, Joseph. The proximity tracker isn’t in the collar; that was a lie. It’s in the walkie-talkie. If two or more are within range of each other, we’ll know exactly where you are. That’s why we said: hide alone. We’ll give you another chance. And don’t think about ditching the device. We’ll know.”

Click.

Silence enveloped him again. Joseph stared at the walkie-talkie. They hadn’t just wanted them alone to break their spirits. Now, because of him, Leo had been flagged and taken. 

He didn’t know if Leo had been spared or sentenced. He didn’t know if Leo thought Joseph had betrayed or saved him. All he knew was that seven more bombs were ticking in the dark, and he was running out of time.