"I know you."
Sat across from Caitlyn at a table on campus, still waiting for Liam's return, Samantha narrowed her eyes.
"You were in the game." She remembered Caitlyn hiding in the restroom with Liam during the zombies game. "And outside the shop yesterday, outside the café."
Caitlyn's stare hardened. "Who are you to him?"
"Uh… I don't know. 'Old acquaintance' works."
"Then why are you looking for him now?"
"He told me he picked Antarctica yesterday. He lied. I just want to know why."
Caitlyn's eyes widened—Liam hadn't lied to her. That brought a flicker of relief she didn't bother to hide.
Samantha didn't bother asking who Caitlyn was to Liam—she had a good idea already.
"And you? Why are you looking for him?"
"I don't know if I should tell you that."
"Alright." Samantha didn't press further.
A few yards away, Jason still sat hunched on the bench where the police had left him—an empty shell, staring at the concrete.
Samantha rose. "I'm going to Jason."
"You know him too?" Caitlyn asked, following her lead.
"Met him yesterday. In the game."
"Right." Caitlyn stood too.
Nearby, Liam's father drifted along the campus path, pacing in slow circles, eyes flicking over every student like a stray dog searching for scraps. He didn't join them. He just lurked—watching.
Heather was still at the table, checking her phone. "Today's question just dropped."
"We'll deal with that in a bit," Samantha said. "Let's get Jason first."
"I'll come too," Caitlyn said quickly.
They approached the bench. Samantha called softly, "Hey."
Caitlyn knelt down when she saw Jason's state. His eyes were raw, tears spilling freely. He didn't even seem to notice them.
"You okay, Jason?" she asked, offering him a pack of tissues.
He took it without a word. His voice cracked. "Where were you last night?"
Caitlyn winced. She hadn't expected him to ask that.
"Sahara," she admitted. "We lied. I'm sorry." She bowed her head, shame and guilt burning her cheeks.
Jason's lips trembled. "Was my father there?"
"Huh?"
"Alex Quinn. My dad."
The resemblance struck Caitlyn—without his glasses, Jason looked just like the police officer from the Sahara game. Same eyes. Same broken stare.
"…Yeah," she whispered. "I think so."
"What was he doing there? What happened to him?"
Caitlyn's fingers twitched around the tissue pack. She bit her lip hard.
"Cait, please." Jason's voice was just a raw whisper. "Tell me."
"I don't know. Last I saw him… he was with Liam."
"Liam." Jason's face twisted, rage cracking through his grief. "Him again."
"He was working with your father to take down the game," Caitlyn said quickly.
"Then why lie to me?" Jason's voice was low, shaking. "Why was I left out? Why him? Why did you drag him into this? Why?"
Caitlyn had no answer—she'd never questioned Liam. She just followed.
"Where is he now?" Samantha asked, quiet but firm.
A single exchange of gaze between her and Jason gave all the answer. Samantha held up her hands. "Sorry I asked."
Jason crushed the tissue in his fist, tears mixing with anger. He stood abruptly.
"Where is he? Liam—where is he?"
"We don't know," Samantha said. "We're looking too. Just wait here with us. We'll plan tonight's game together."
Jason laughed bitterly, voice breaking. "As if he'd show up. Even if he does he'd just feed us more fucking lies—"
"Jason, please." Caitlyn's pleaded. "He has a reason, I believe him."
They walked back together—Jason now slumped at the table with Heather, Samantha, and Caitlyn.
"Hey." Heather offered him a gentle nod. "So… what's tonight's question?"
—
"Huh?"
"You're being followed," V said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "I count three. Could be more."
Liam peered out the car window, scanning the street—nothing but ordinary pedestrians.
"You won't spot them like that," V said, amused. "They're good. Want me to get rid of 'em?"
Liam's pulse spiked. Who were they? Why were they following him? He didn't know—but it couldn't be good.
"Yeah. Do it."
"Anywhere you need to be?"
"No."
"Good. Walk home. Act normal. I'll handle the rest. I'll call you on this." She handed him a battered old flip phone—a burner. "Use it to reach me. I'll call when it's clear."
Liam took it, cold metal against sweaty palms.
"If for whatever reason, you can't reach me and it's an emergency…" V lifted two fingers in a peace sign, flashing him a wry grin. "Do this. I'll be watching."
Liam nodded.
Just as he reached for the door, V added, voice silky but razor-sharp:
"By the way—I only act when you say so. No commands, no help. Even if you're dying right in front of me—I won't do shit."
She grinned—wide and unsettling.
Liam just nodded again and stepped out into the street.
He forced his breathing to steady. He could feel them—eyes on the back of his neck, shadows slipping through the crowd. He resisted the urge to look around.
Act normal. That's what V said.
He stopped scanning the street, forced himself to relax his shoulders, and slipped his hands in his pockets. Step by step—like he wasn't being hunted.
A few blocks away, a man in a hoodie, blending perfectly with the morning crowd, pressed two fingers to his earpiece.
"He's moving."