Page 57 of Forsaking All Others

I gather my thoughts and take a deep breath, preparing for whatever’s to come.

Our rack trial is complete, and as the final judge I’ve been charged with opening a large timber trunk at the back of the torture chamber.

Reaching into the trunk watched by my team, most of whom have collapsed and are sitting or lying, spent, on the cold rock floor, I pull up a piece of paper and read out the instructions.

Only this time, it’s not another trial.

Not like the ones we’ve just been through anyway.

“Only if you have not already sacrificed/lost a team member in this contest, may you use this advantage.”

We look at one another and breathe a collective sigh of relief that not only have none of us died, we’d even picked up a spare.

“Finally,” I breathe, “a fucking break.”

Without pause, I continue reading out loud.

“The team member who reads this letter has a decision to make. Carry on with your group or eliminate them all and win solo. The contents of this trunk may help you decide.”

No one asks what I’m going to do, but Sona and Evelyn flick each other concerned glances, and everyone struggles to their feet as I throw the paper aside and pick up two of four handguns from within the deep, timber chest. Inspecting them quickly, I tuck them into the top of my suit near my breasts and zip them in tight. Guns, I understand. One of the first things I’d done when I’d assumed my minder’s identity and gained my freedom was to apply for a sporting shooter’s license. I’d practiced on firing ranges wherever I went. Reaching now for the other two, I ensure they’re also loaded and ready to fire before turning to face my team, a gun in each hand.

“Give me one,” Evelyn holds out her hand.

“No.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Neanche per sogno”

“It means not even for a dream,” Thorun says quietly.

“I know what it means!” Evelyn snaps. “You don’t need four, Catriona. We’re not going to war, you know.”

“Yes,” I nod. “I do need four. Each only has one bullet.”

“So, you’re a shit shot,” she snorts.

“Not at all,” I answer casually. “There are four contestants, and four bullets.”

“Oh my God, I knew you were a killer,” Valérie bursts out, her voice becoming more high-pitched as she screeches, “I knew you’d murder us all. All these trials, all this talk of teams, all along you planned to kill us all. Oh, dieu me sauve! Dieu me sauve!”

“God’s not going to save you!” I snap, stepping forward to give her a quick, hard slap, before leaning down and resting my hands, still holding the guns, on my knees as I try to catch my breath.

She gasps and falls back, one hand to her bleeding cheek. I’d forgotten I was still holding the gun when I’d struck her.

“She’s not going to kill us, Valérie,” Thorun murmurs, her tone anything but confident as she pats the French woman on the back consolingly. “We’re going to make sure Khutulun’s team comes last.”

“By murdering them all?” Valérie squeaks, eyes wide.

“No,” I snort, temporarily recovering from my inability to get enough air into my lungs, “well, maybe. The main thing is I can protect us while we solve the last puzzle and get us to the finish line. And if I can, I’ll prevent them from getting anywhere near it.”

“It’ll be easier if I have guns too,” Evelyn says, her voice coolly even, eyes upon mine. “Each contestant is only permitted to eliminate two others in a contest where guns are involved. You know that as well as I do.”

“That may be,” I shrug, “but if you want one, you’ll have to take it.”

“We said there’d be no leader,” she snarls.

“And yet, here we are,” I shrug.