Chapter 54: Before Trial 5
The morning sun was a liar. It painted the white sand in cheerful, golden strokes and made the turquoise water sparkle with a promise of purity that the island had systematically betrayed. Briv stood at the edge of the group, the pleasant warmth on his skin doing nothing to thaw the cold knot in his stomach. He’d spent the night tossing in his bunk, his mind a cinema of horrors playing out what Alya might be doing, each scenario more vivid and tormenting than the last.
Chris McLean stood before them, his smile a blinding, polished weapon. “Rise and shine, tempters! Hope you all slept well,” he chirped, his eyes scanning the crowd with knowing amusement. They lingered for a fraction of a second too long on Alya, who stood slightly apart, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked different. Hollowed out. There was a new stillness to her, a vacancy in her beautiful brown eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Time for the moment of truth!” Chris announced, gesturing to the large screen that flickered to life behind him. “Let’s see who’s playing the game, and who’s getting played.”
The list materialized, crisp and damning.
1ST - JOAQUIN - 53P
2ND - ELENA - 44P
3RD - FATIMA - 26P
4TH - DARIANA - 25P
5TH - ALYA - 24P
Briv’s own name was a punch to the gut, buried in the middle of the pack at 13th with 11 points. But it was Alya’s name, blazing in 5th place with 24 points, that stole the air from his lungs. Twenty-four. An impossible number. A number that spoke of multiple encounters, a number that confirmed every one of his darkest fears.
His eyes snapped from the screen to her. She wouldn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the sand, her jaw tight. Then he saw them. Logan, Kofi, and Kim, standing together like a triumvirate of conquest. Logan caught his eye and gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t a greeting. It was a confirmation.
A sound escaped Briv’s lips, a choked, half-formed thing. The competitive jealousy that usually burned like a hot coal now felt like a block of dry ice in his chest, freezing him from the inside out. He’d been worried about one guy, maybe two. Not this. Not a coordinated assault.
The second the group began to disperse, chattering about the standings, Briv stalked toward Alya. The sand, soft and shifting, felt like it was trying to hold him back.
“Twenty-four points, Alya?” he hissed, grabbing her elbow. His voice was low and ragged. “What the hell does that even mean?”
She flinched but finally met his gaze. The fire he was used to seeing there was gone, replaced by a flat, weary defiance. “It means I played the game, Briv. Something you’re clearly failing at.”
“Played the game?” he repeated, a bitter laugh tearing from his throat. “With who? All of them?” He jerked his head toward the three men, who were now watching the scene with undisguised interest.
“What does it matter? You’ve been so busy being jealous and insecure, you forgot we’re here to win. You think I didn’t see you cozying up to Nicola? To Carmen?” Her words were sharp, but they lacked conviction, as if she were reciting lines from a script she no longer believed in.
“That’s different! That’s just talking! That’s—”. He struggled to find a justification that wouldn’t sound pathetic. “What did you do for twenty-four points, Alya?”
Her face closed off completely. “I did what I had to do. I’m not carrying your paranoia anymore. It’s exhausting.”
She tried to pull her arm away, but he held fast. “Look at me! Tell me what happened in that cabin.”
For a moment, he saw a flicker of the old Alya—a flash of shame, of pain. Then it was gone, extinguished by something harder. “Let go of me, Briv.”
“Alya.”
“Let. Go.”
The voice wasn’t hers. It was Logan’s. The older man was suddenly there, his hand clamping down on Briv’s shoulder. His grip was like iron, his presence immovably solid. “The lady told you to let go.”
Briv’s instinct was to shove him away, but the sheer physical power radiating from Logan made the impulse die before it reached his muscles. He was skinny, all nerve and anxiety. Logan was substance and force.
Kofi and Kim moved in flanking positions, a wall of male solidarity backing Alya. They weren’t just her tempters; they were her protectors now. From him.
Briv’s hand fell away from Alya’s arm. The defeat was a physical taste, metallic and sour in his mouth.
Alya didn’t look at him again. She turned and walked away, not toward the main path, but toward the line of palm trees that led back to the cabins. Logan kept his hand on Briv’s shoulder for a moment longer, a final, silent assertion of dominance, then released him and followed her. Kofi shot Briv a look of pure contempt before falling into step, with Kim bringing up the rear, his face a mask of faux-sympathetic concern.
Briv stood alone, the cheerful sounds of the beach crashing around him. He watched them go, the three men and the woman he loved, disappearing into the shade. She didn't look back. Not once. The gap between them was no longer just steps in the sand; it was a chasm, and he was on the wrong side, watching her walk away with the very people who had taken her from him. The game had changed, and he had already lost.
===
The game had changed, and he had already lost. Briv stood rooted in the sand, the imprint of Logan’s grip still a phantom pressure on his shoulder. The cheerful shouts of others mingling further down the beach felt like a mockery, each laugh a sharp needle in the raw wound of his humiliation. He watched the empty space where Alya had vanished, the ghost of her defiance hanging in the salt-tinged air.
A sharp whistle cut through his spiraling thoughts. “Gather ‘round, lovebirds! Or should I say, sharks?” Chris McLean’s voice boomed from a small platform near the water, his microphone catching the sun like a beacon. He grinned, a flash of perfect white teeth against his tanned skin, his casual stance belying the tension thrumming through the group. “Time to stop the moping and start the competing. We’ve got a real treat for you today.”
Everyone drifted toward him, a slow, wary current of bodies. Briv forced his feet to move, his mind still reeling from the points and Alya’s hollow eyes. He found a spot near the back, next to Carmen, who offered him a small, sympathetic smile that did nothing to ease the chill in his chest.
“Now, for Trial 5,” Chris began, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he paused for dramatic effect. He let the silence stretch, soaking in the anticipation. “You'll be paired in teams of two—and those teams will compete against each other. A team will be made of a man and a woman.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Briv’s eyes instinctively scanned for Alya, finding her standing with Logan, Kofi, and Kim. She was looking at Chris, her expression unreadable.
“The men will compete against each other, one versus one,” Chris continued, his tone shifting to a playful, yet pointed, seriousness. “The women from the losing team will drink a cup of the winner man's semen.”
A sharp intake of breath came from somewhere in the group. Briv felt his stomach lurch. The sheer, clinical brutality of the punishment was designed to humiliate, to sever alliances in the most visceral way possible.
“The contest is like a truth or dare—unless it is only dare,” Chris added with a wink. “Each team will draw a random sexual challenge. Some cards are empty—good for you! I'll explain more later.” He gestured to a production assistant holding a large, ornate box. “Get ready for the team's random draw!”
The announcement hung in the air, a new, heavier layer of tension settling over the beach.