Page 128 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

I hoped we’d get them down to just their best two or three.

I had crossed my fingers that Brody would be at least one of them, because, well, he never turned off location sharing. I screenshot a picture of where he is (even though I’d turned off my location) and text it to Vi, who will text it to everyone who’s left.

Then, I wait.

The seconds pass by in excruciatingly slow detail. Next to me, Khloe’s eyes are so wide, and so close, that I can see the little spots of green in her otherwise seemingly crystal-blue eyes. I feel a trickle of sweat traveling down the side of my face.

Then, because it’s been a full minute and I know I’m one of Brody’s emergency override contacts, I call him.

“Mother—”

Pop, pop, pop.

And down goes the almost groom.

The DJ announces, in an appropriately spooky voice, “And then there was one.”

My phone pings.

UNKNOWN: Is this your plan?

UNKNOWN: This feels a bit Machiavellian, Red.

ME: You’re not proud?

UNKNOWN: Look behind you.

A second after I receive his text message, I hear a pop, pop, pop and Khloe is out, three green splotches now decorating her once-designer bridesmaid dress.

She stands slowly and squints at Lucas, who is half hidden behind a tree, not enough of him showing to make any kind of real target.

“You know, in a different life, we could’ve—” Khloe cuts herself off. “Forget it.”

She brushes herself off and walks, head high, toward where the off’ed players are gathered.

I adjust my crouch, realizing it doesn’t matter if the branches below me are crunching. If Lucas is really the only one left, I just need to buy enough time for anyone else to sneak up on him.

Except right at that moment, there’s a small flutter of movement, and before I can track what’s happened, Lucas leans to one side. Pop, pop, pop. Lucas ducks. Pop, pop, pop.

Lucas is untouched, and two more of my teammates are down because Team Prey sucks.

Hard.

The DJ’s voice comes over the speaker again; the drone is hovering right above us, and he’s likely getting a play-by-play. “Looks like the best man has taken out another two—wait, make that four. Who wants to bet against Lucas Murray, am I right?”

Even as I’m rolling my eyes that DJ XR, who’s on our side, is fanboying over Lucas, I shout through the bush, “You’re outnumbered.”

“Not sure that matters.”

As I move around, I think it’s possible I have a shot, but the way he’s angling his body means I’m not positive I’ll be able to hit him.

“You know I hate losing, Red.”

“And you know I love winning.”

He steps out from behind the tree. “We could call a truce⁠—”

I shoot him in quick succession, just as he taught me, more than three times, actually. I wonder if Vi planned this . . . or if she’s just really lucky.