Chapter 100: Before Trial 8
The salt air did little to cleanse the taste of him from the back of her throat. Emilia stood at the edge of the group, the fine white sand shifting under her bare feet. She could still feel the phantom pressure of Kofi’s hands on her head, the raw, bruised feeling deep in her gullet. She had washed her face, smoothed her hair, but the humiliation was a stain she knew everyone could see. Or maybe that was just the strategist in her, paranoid. Revan hadn’t looked at her once since they’d left the cabin, his posture a rigid line of fury. Kofi, meanwhile, looked like a king who’d just annexed new territory, laughing too loudly with Dariana, his arm slung around her shoulders with a casual ownership that made Emilia’s stomach twist.
“Gather ‘round, tempters!” Chris McLean’s voice cut through the low roar of the ocean and the murmured conversations, amplified by the microphone clipped to his crisp, linen shirt. He stood on a low platform, a wicked smile playing on his lips. The giant screen behind him flickered to life. “Time for a little public accounting. Let’s see who’s playing the game… and who’s being played.”
A hush fell over the beach. The only sounds were the waves and the nervous rustle of clothing. Briv found himself standing next to Alya, the familiar scent of her shampoo a painful reminder of everything that felt broken between them. He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes glued to the screen, his jaw tight.
The list materialized, bright and damning.
1ST - JOAQUIN - 78P
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd. Joaquin, who had been leaning against a palm tree, straightened up, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across his face. He gave a mock bow, his dark green eyes scanning the women with unabashed hunger. “What can I say?” he called out, his Spanish accent thick with conceit. “The heart wants what it wants. And so does everything else.”
2ND - BIANCA - 71P
The blonde psychologist offered a small, polite smile, but her eyes were sharp, analyzing the reactions around her. She stood near Logan, the older man giving her a nod of respect. She was playing a different game, a quieter one, and it was working.
3RD- DARIANA - 67P
4TH - ELENA - 61P
5TH - ALYA - 60P
Briv’s breath hitched. Sixty. Alya had sixty points. His mind, traitorous and sharp, immediately supplied the images: Thomas with his faux-sensitive act, Kim with his manipulative kindness, their hands on her, their mouths… His own score, 49, felt like a slap. He was below her. He was losing.
6TH - THOMAS - 59P
Thomas, standing slightly apart, fluttered his hands. “Oh my,” he said, his voice a feminine purr. “I’m just so touched people are connecting with my energy.”
7TH - NICOLETA - 57P
The goth influencer didn’t react, just stared at the board with her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes, a statue of cool indifference. But her jaw was clenched.
8TH - RAZE - 52P
9TH - VALENTINA, KOFI - 51P
Kofi’ smirk widened. He didn’t care about the points, not really. He cared about the proof. Tied with the gossipy Valentina? Irrelevant. His victory in Cabin 6 was the only ranking that mattered to him.
10TH - BRIV - 49P
The number burned in Briv’s vision. Forty-nine. He felt Alya glance at him, a quick, worried look. He ignored it, the heat of shame crawling up his neck.
The list continued, a brutal descent into mediocrity and failure.
11TH - PATRICIA - 43P
12TH - FATIMA - 40P
13TH - JIM - 38P
Jim whooped, pumping a skinny fist in the air. “Thirty-eight! Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” His joy was so genuine and misplaced it was almost painful to watch.
14TH - DILETTA - 37P
15TH - REVAN - 36P
Revan let out a sharp, guttural “Fuck!” and kicked a spray of sand into the air. Thirty-six. Behind the guy who’d just publicly emasculated him. His hands curled into fists.
16TH - LOGAN - 34P
17TH - NASEER - 33P
Naseer’s expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. Thirty-three. For a man of his stature, it was an insult. He looked like he was calculating the cost of buying the entire island and firing everyone.
18TH - SEAN - 32P
The farm guy just grunted, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his face a thundercloud of disapproval.
19TH - CARMEN, EMILIA - 30P
Emilia felt the number settle over her like a shroud. Thirty. Tied with the talkative Carmen, who was blinking back tears. It was a middling, forgettable score. It didn’t reflect the storm inside her, the calculated risk she’d taken, the degradation she’d endured. It was just a number. And it was useless. She met Kofi’s gaze across the circle. He gave her a slow, deliberate wink, as if to say, See? I told you. My game is the real one.
20TH - ANDRE, KIM - 23P
21TH - NICOLA - 12P
A gasp went up. Twelve. Nicola, the smart, sexy blonde, stood frozen, her face pale with shock. She looked like she’d been physically struck. Carmen, despite her own low score, moved to put an arm around her, whispering something comforting.
“There you have it!” Chris announced, spreading his hands wide. “The landscape of desire, quantified for your viewing pleasure. Some of you are soaring. Others… well, let’s just say you’ve got some work to do. Remember, points make prizes. And the biggest prize of all is staying in the game.” His eyes twinkled with malice. “The bottom three contestants are now officially on probation. Nicola, Andre, Kim… I’d suggest you get very friendly, very fast.”
The platform’s lights dimmed, and Chris stepped down, leaving a vacuum of tense silence that was quickly filled with a surge of frantic conversation.
Briv finally turned to Alya, the words bursting out of him, low and strained. “Sixty? What did you have to do for sixty points, Alya? Give a private performance?”
Alya flinched, her angelic face hardening. “Don’t, Briv. Don’t do this. You know what the trials are. It’s not real.”
“It felt real enough to get you into the top five,” he shot back, his voice rising. “While I’m down here in the dust. Was it Thomas? Did you let him comfort you? Or Kim? He’s always hanging around you with that fake nice-guy act.”
“Stop it!” she hissed, her eyes flashing. “This is exactly what they want! For us to turn on each other. We agreed, Briv. We came here to prove our love could handle this.”
“Yeah, well, maybe mine can,” he said, his insecurity twisting into something ugly and sharp. “But can yours? You seem to be enjoying the attention a little too much.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes, a quick, deep wound, and immediately felt a pang of regret. But it was swallowed by the roaring in his ears, the image of that leaderboard seared into his mind. Without another word, he turned and stalked away, pushing past a celebrating Joaquin and a shell-shocked Nicola.
He needed to get away from her, from all of them. He walked until the sounds of the group faded, replaced by the rhythmic crash of the waves. He stared out at the endless, dark water, his chest tight. He was losing her. He could feel it, a slow, inexorable pull, like the tide dragging sand out from under his feet. And he was just standing there, watching it happen.