Page 176 of The Most Dangerous Games

“This doesn’t need to take long,” he says. “You thought this was one man’s sickness. It wasn’t.”

He points at the table.

“This was a board decision.”

The room goes cold.

Wyatt starts naming names—controlled, clinical, lethal.

Alek watches the faces as he does. Not guilt. Not horror. Annoyance. Like he’s interrupting a meeting.

Thomas Waldrip, tech titan.

Jeanne Starr, international finance.

Li Chang, arms.

Juan Escarra, manufacturing and influence.

Helen Trengove, supply chain.

Gianni Volpe, pharma.

Wyatt slides a folder across the table. Six signatures stare back.

“Congratulations,” he says. “You’re all on the murder paperwork.”

Jeanne Starr speaks first. “Ward, you told us the games would be contained. A controlled stress test. You promised no . . . headlines.”

Ward looks at the ground. She rolls her eyes.

“The people we see here at this table are among the richest and most powerful on earth,” Wyatt says. “Unfortunately, it’s why over time they’ve proven themselves to be the most dangerous, while they line their own pockets.”

Wyatt smiles without warmth.

“My grandfather foolishly thought these people would be loyal to him even after he was gone, and remain loyal to his ideals,” Wyatt says, spitting out the words. “He wasn’t wrong about a lot, my grandfather. But he was wrong about that.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thomas Waldrip booms. “Gavin was my friend and everyone at this table knows it.”

“Sure, he was,” Wyatt says. “Whenever you needed another favor from him. Or to cut you another sweetheart deal on your latest merger or acquisition.”

Waldrip starts to respond, but Wyatt holds up a hand to stop him. He is very much in charge here, Alek sees. More confident than she has ever seen him.

“And how exactly do you know all this?” Helen Trengove asks. “Nobody saw Gavin for the last year of his life. Perhaps longer than that.”

Jimmy leans forward.

“I can answer that,” he says. “He didn’t want any of you to see him. But I found him in London, just over a week ago. As weak as he was, we spoke for hours that night. He was one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met face-to-face. And still full of fight. And he had one message for all of you.”

Jimmy looks around the table, one face at a time.

“He said you were going to pick his bones the second you thought he couldn’t stop you. And the only thing he regretted was that he wasn’t young enough to fight right along with us when the time came!”

“Sounds like him,” Wyatt says.

Ward scoffs. “Pity.”

Wyatt snaps his head toward him. “Shut up.”