Chapter 13: Round 2
The silence after Sean’s claiming kiss hung thick and sour, broken only by the relentless crash of waves and Bianca’s choked gasp as she stumbled away. Alya watched her retreat, the blonde’s shoulders trembling, a mirror reflecting her own violation. Revan’s smirk, plastered across his pale face near the palm tree, felt like a brand. Briv shifted beside her, radiating restless energy, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. He hadn’t looked at her since Dariana’s kiss.
Chris McLean clapped his hands, the sound jarringly bright against the simmering tension. "Alright! Round One is officially in the books! Points are on the board, alliances are shifting… and the real fun is just beginning!" His grin swept the group, lingering on the visibly shaken women and the predatory men. "Round Two kicks off NOW! And it’s a different beast entirely. No more carrying burdens. This is pure partnership. Synchronized chaos!"
He gestured dramatically towards a section of wet, packed sand near the shoreline. "The Sand Sprint Relay! Teams of two, tied together at the ankle! You run together, you stumble together, you win… or lose… together! First pair across the line gets the glory… and the points!"
A murmur rippled through the contestants. Partnership. Forced proximity. Alya’s stomach clenched. Briv finally glanced at her, his eyes flickering with something unreadable – worry? Possessiveness? Before either could speak, Chris pointed.
"First duel of Round Two!" His voice cut through the murmurs. "Revan & Alya versus Thomas & Carmen!"
Ice water flooded Alya’s veins. Revan. The name itself felt like a violation. His dark eyes locked onto hers from across the sand, a slow, predatory smile spreading beneath his goth-styled hair. Carmen, pale and tall beside Nicola, offered Alya a weak, sympathetic smile. Thomas, standing near Fatima, fluttered his long lashes, his feminine posture exaggerated as he smoothed his dark hair. "Oh, darling Carmen," he cooed, his voice unnervingly soft, "we shall be graceful together."
Alya felt Briv stiffen beside her. "Alya," he started, his voice low and urgent. "Don't let him—"
"It’s the game, Briv," she cut him off, her own voice flat, devoid of its usual fire. The actress in her slammed down a steel curtain. Survival mode. She wouldn’t give Revan the satisfaction of seeing her break. Not again. Not publicly. She walked towards the starting area, her skinny legs feeling like lead weights. Revan met her halfway, his grin widening.
"Fate’s a bitch, huh, sweetheart?" he murmured, leaning close enough for her to smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. "Tied together. Literally." His gaze dropped pointedly to her ankles, then slowly dragged back up her body, lingering on her firm small breasts beneath the thin bikini top. Alya ignored him, staring straight ahead at the distant finish line marker.
Chris tossed two lengths of coarse rope towards each pair. "Tie yourselves tight! No cheating! If the knot slips, you’re disqualified!"
Thomas knelt gracefully beside Carmen’s long leg. "Allow me, darling," he simpered, his fingers surprisingly deft as he looped the rope around her ankle and his own, pulling it snug but not painfully tight. He tied a neat, secure knot. "Comfortable?" he asked Carmen, his dark eyes radiating faux concern. Carmen nodded mutely, her tall frame tense.
Revan snatched the rope. He didn't kneel. He grabbed Alya’s ankle roughly, his fingers digging into the delicate bone above her heel. She gasped, stumbling. He yanked her leg towards his, pulling her off balance so she crashed into him. His free hand shot out, ostensibly to steady her, but it landed low on her back, fingers splaying possessively over the curve of her tiny round ass. He pulled her tight against him for a second, her small breasts crushed against his chest, his breath hot on her neck. "Steady now," he growled, the command laced with threat.
He dropped to one knee, pulling her leg down sharply with him. He wrapped the rope brutally tight around both their ankles, pulling the coarse fibers until they bit into her skin. He tied a savage, complex knot, yanking it tight with a final, wrenching pull that made Alya cry out. "There," he declared, standing abruptly, hauling her upright with him. "Secure." His hand lingered on her hip, squeezing. "Ready to run, princess?"
Chris raised his arm. "On your marks… Get set… GO!"
Thomas and Carmen lurched forward. Thomas’s feminine grace translated into surprisingly coordinated speed. He matched Carmen’s long strides, their tied ankles forcing a rhythm that was awkward but functional. "Left, right, left!" Thomas coached softly, his voice calm. "That’s it, darling! Beautiful!" They moved with surprising efficiency, sand spraying from their feet.
Revan exploded forward. Alya, unprepared for the violent jerk, stumbled, her ankle screaming where the rope dug in. He didn't slow. He dragged her, her feet scrabbling for purchase in the loose sand. "Move your skinny ass!" he snarled, his grip on her hip tightening, fingers digging in painfully. He pulled her forward, forcing her into a desperate, lurching run beside him. Their strides were mismatched chaos. Every step jarred her bones. Sand kicked up into her eyes, her mouth. She choked.
Thomas and Carmen were pulling ahead, their smoother rhythm giving them an edge. Revan saw it. His face contorted with rage. "Faster!" he roared, yanking Alya’s leg so hard she cried out, nearly falling. He hauled her upright, his arm clamping around her waist like a steel band, fingers pressing bruisingly into the soft flesh just above her hip bone. He propelled them forward with raw, brute force. Alya gasped for breath, her lungs burning, the rope sawing into her ankle. She felt like a rag doll in his grip.
They gained ground. Thomas glanced back, a flicker of annoyance crossing his usually placid features. Carmen’s face was etched with panic. Twenty feet from the finish. Ten. Thomas and Carmen were half a stride ahead. Revan let out a guttural sound. He didn't just push forward; he threw himself, dragging Alya with him in a final, desperate lunge fueled by pure aggression. Their tangled legs crossed the line a fraction of a second before Thomas and Carmen’s.
"And Revan and Alya snatch it!" Chris yelled, his voice crackling with excitement. "By a hair! What a finish!"
Revan didn't stop. Momentum carried them stumbling forward a few more steps. He wrenched Alya around to face him, his hands still locked painfully on her waist. His chest heaved against hers. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, his eyes wild with victory and something darker. Triumph. Possession. The rope bit deep into her swollen ankle.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cut through the noise of the beach and the pounding of her own terrified heart: "If we also win the last round… would you give me 10 points, sweetheart?"
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Revan’s breath was hot wax dripping into her ear, the implied threat slick and vile. Alya recoiled, but his grip on her waist was iron, the rope burning her swollen ankle. "Get off me!" she hissed, shoving against his chest with trembling hands, the taste of salt and fear thick on her tongue.
He released her with a cruel chuckle, stepping back just as Chris’s amplified voice sliced through the heavy air. "Points for Revan and Alya! Now, let's see who else wants a shot at the finale!" Chris scanned the tense crowd, his smile razor-sharp. "Next duel of Round Two! Raze and Diletta versus Briv and Dariana! Winners qualify for the last round. Step up!"
Briv’s head snapped up from where he’d been glaring at Revan, a flicker of surprise then grim determination crossing his face. Dariana was already moving, her athlete’s stride purposeful as she headed for the ropes Chris held out. "Let's finish this," she stated flatly, her gaze fixed on the distant finish line marker.
Raze emerged from the group, pale skin gleaming, an easy smirk on his lips. He offered Diletta his arm. The Spanish TV hostess took it with her practiced, dazzling smile, though her dark eyes held a sliver of wariness. "This should be interesting, cariño," Diletta murmured, her voice smooth honey laced with something sharper.
Briv knelt quickly beside Dariana, his fingers fumbling slightly with the coarse rope. Her tanned ankle was firm muscle against his knuckles. He tied it tightly, professionally, avoiding the intimate grip Joaquin or Revan had used. "Secure?" he asked, his voice tight. Dariana tested the knot, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "Secure. Don't slow me down." Her tone held no warmth, only the cold assessment of a teammate.
Raze tied his and Diletta's ankles with theatrical flair, his hand lingering a beat too long on her calf just above the rope. Diletta maintained her smile, adjusting her bikini top. "Ready to run, darling?" Raze asked her, his eyes already assessing Briv and Dariana like prey. Diletta’s smile tightened. "Sí. Let’s win."
"On your marks!" Chris bellowed, the cameras zooming in. Briv focused on the packed sand ahead, Dariana’s arm rigid against his shoulder. Her body radiated coiled energy. Beside them, Raze leaned close to Diletta, whispering something that made her laugh, a high, brittle sound.
"Get set…" Dariana’s weight shifted, ready to explode forward. Briv mirrored her, muscles taut. He could smell the salt, the sunscreen, the faint, clean sweat on Dariana’s skin. Raze winked at Briv."GO!"
Dariana launched like a sprinter, dragging Briv forward with her powerful first stride. Their steps synced instantly, a rapid, staccato rhythm pounding the damp sand. Left, right, left. No hesitation. Dariana’s focus was absolute, her breath coming in controlled bursts. Briv matched her pace, propelled by her momentum and his own desperate need to win something.
Raze and Diletta stumbled out of the gate. Diletta’s heel caught in the sand, jerking Raze sideways. "Fuck! Step with me!" Raze snarled, his charming facade cracking as he hauled her upright, his hand biting into her waist. They lurched forward, their rhythm jarring and uneven. Diletta gasped, her elegant composure shattered.
Briv and Dariana flew. Sand sprayed from their driving feet. The rope was taut, a lifeline and a constraint, but Dariana’s athlete’s instincts made it an advantage. "Faster!" she commanded, her voice clipped. Briv dug deep, pushing his skinny frame, his lungs screaming. He dared a glance sideways. Raze and Diletta were a mess of tangled limbs and curses, maybe five paces behind but falling further with every second.
Twenty feet. Ten. Dariana poured on the speed, a final burst Briv barely hung onto. Her small, firm breasts brushed his arm with each powerful stride, her big round ass a solid weight shifting rhythmically against their bound legs. He focused only on the line, on not letting her down. They hit the damp sand beyond the marker together, stumbling only slightly.
"Briv and Dariana!" Chris roared. "Domination! You’re through!"
Briv bent double, gasping, sweat stinging his eyes. Dariana stood tall beside him, barely winded, already untying the rope with brisk efficiency. She didn’t smile. "Told you," she stated, dropping the rope in the sand. One point flickered onto the screen beside her name.
Raze and Diletta crashed across moments later, Raze’s face thunderous. He ripped the rope off, ignoring Diletta as she wobbled, rubbing her ankle. "Useless," he spat under his breath, turning his back on her. Diletta’s smile was long gone, replaced by a cold, hard mask as she smoothed her hair, refusing to look at him.
Briv looked past Dariana, searching the crowd. He found Alya instantly. She stood rigid, flanked by Nicola and Carmen. She wasn't looking at him. Her wide, brown eyes were fixed on Revan, who leaned against his palm tree, staring back at her, slowly licking his lips. He raised his hand, extending two fingers, then eight more, mouthing the words: Ten points?
Briv’s victory turned to ash in his mouth. He’d qualified. He’d beaten Raze. But across the sand, under the brutal sun, his girlfriend looked like a ghost staring into the abyss, and Revan’s predatory grin promised hell wasn't finished with her yet.
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