Page 123 of The Most Dangerous Games

Tipton goes crashing onto his table, scattering glasses and plates and silverware.

But as Jack reaches for him again, Tipton springs up and off the table.

He grabs a steak knife off the table. Not waving it—holding it the way someone trained holds a tool. A warning. A line.

“Don’t,” Tipton says, voice ugly.

Alek hears Hannah gasp. Wyatt starts to get up from his chair. Carlos Lopez grabs Wyatt’s arm to keep him where he is. Everyone else is frozen in place, shocked that things have escalated as quickly and violently as they have.

Tipton jabs the knife in Jack’s direction like pointing a sword at him. Jack backs away and into a defensive crouch, hands out in front of him.

But The Host stops them both.

“Enough!” he shouts.

Jack and Tipton both turn to see that four guards, in their familiar black jumpsuits, have entered the room. They are moving toward them, guns in their hands.

“Put the knife down, Mr. Tipton,” The Host says. “Do it now.”

Tipton looks over at the guards. He hesitates, but only briefly, before carefully placing the knife back on the table.

There is still a stunned silence in the room until The Host addresses them once again.

“In truth, the timing of what you just witnessed couldn’t be more perfect,” he says. “Because tomorrow we’re going to find out just how many of you are prepared to fight to the death in the name of being The One.”

“Fight who?” Alek asks.

“Each other,” The Host says.

85.

The Host looks quite pleased with himself as he lets that sink in.

“You must be joking,” Alek says.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he says.

“You expect us to fight each other?” Wyatt asks.

The silver-haired man nods.

“You hear people say they’d ‘kill to win’ all the time,” he says. “We’re about to find out which of you would be willing to kill the person in the next chair—or at the next table—to win this particular competition.”

“You’re talking about duels,” Gabrielle says. “To the death.”

“Exactly,” The Host says brightly. “You will all be paired off in the morning. I’ll select the pairings. I’ll select the weapons. Some of you will fight with small knives, which happened to be Mr. Tipton’s choice of weapon just a few moments ago. Some will be given handguns. And some will fight with their fists. And feet, if need be.”

He chuckles.

The sound on this night is more chilling than ever.

“But then all of this will be Ultimate Fighting in a way, won’t it?” he says.

He finishes his wine then. As he’s leaning over to place it near Gabrielle Fontaine, he starts to place a hand on her shoulder.

She recoils before he can.

“Ne le faites pas,” she snaps.