Page 157 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

I lowered the gun. “What do you know about how Liam plays? I haven’t seen him once since the game started. Not a glimpse.”

Cassian’s expression shifted, the humor fading into focus. “Oh, Liam is strategic. More than he looks. He’ll find a secure spot—something with a clear sightline over an open area—and he’ll wait. He doesn’t chase. He lets the game wear people down, lets them get impatient and expose themselves. Then he picks them off one by one.”

I nodded, filing the information. “Has he played here before?”

Cassian looked around, really looked, his gaze tracing the landscape. “Now that you mention it… no. He hasn’t.”

But I have.

Our eyes met. Understanding passed between us in a single beat.

Cassian grabbed his gun, rising to a crouch. “Where do I need to go?”

Five minutes later, we were both in position.

The arena had two elevated positions with clear sightlines over the central open area—natural sniper nests. Liam, unfamiliar with this particular terrain, would have struggled to find them. Which meant he couldn’t track our movements across the field.

Cassian slipped away toward the second position while I circled toward mine, keeping low and using scrub brush and scattered debris for cover. When I reached my position, I eased up behind it and carefully peered around the edge.

Liam’s back was to me.

He was crouched behind a stack of barrels, his gun braced against a wooden crate as he scanned the open area below with intense focus.

I smiled. I raised my gun, aiming directly between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, Liam?”

He turned at the sound of his name.

I fired before he could blink. The paintball splattered across his chest, a perfect splat of yellow.

He looked down at the mess, then up at me, betrayal and disbelief warring on his face.

“I want to eat steak for lunch,” I informed him, lowering my gun. “Make sure it’s somewhere good.” I turned and walked away.

His groan followed me down the path.

A few minutes later, Cassian fell into step beside me, his gun slung over his shoulder. A quiet smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“It feels good to win,” he said softly.

Liam, trudging along on Cassian’s other side, let out a scoff. “Win? What did you even do the whole game?”

Cassian’s smile didn’t waver. “I ate a sandwich.”

Liam stopped dead. Turned. Stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Then he shook his head and kept walking. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask.”

My lips curved as I followed Liam toward the exit.

Then Cassian’s voice came from behind me.

“Alessia.”

I turned.

He was still standing exactly where I’d left him, a determined set to his jaw.