“Until he breaks or succeeds.” I watch the timer. Five minutes have passed. “Most candidates use the safeword within the first two minutes.”
The hydraulics hiss as the walls reach the three-foot mark. Hansen is now standing in what amounts to a concrete coffin. His shoulders touch the walls on either side. He closes his eyes, a single bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
But still no safeword.
“Three more minutes,” I announce into the microphone.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. Doesn’t need to. His mind is somewhere else entirely.
When the final seconds tick down, I stop the walls. Hansen opens his eyes, the only indication he’s even aware that the test has ended.
“Congratulations, Mr. Hansen. You’ve passed.” I release the mechanism, and the walls slide back to their original position.
Hansen takes a single deep breath, his first visible reaction to the ordeal. He straightens his tie, nods once at the camera, and walks toward the exit with steady steps.
“Seven candidates remaining,” Penn notes, marking his tablet. “That’s enough for the final phase.”
“I trust you can make the arrangements for them to convene at my estate tomorrow night,” I say, shutting down the monitoring system. “Ten o’clock. Ensure they understand this is the point of no return.”
Penn nods. “I’ll handle it. Any special instructions for their preparation?”
“Tell them to pack as if they’re never coming back.” I collect my jacket. “Some of them won’t be.”
I head for the exit, my mind already mapping out tomorrow’s trials. My estate’s isolation makes it perfect for the breaking point—the final test that will determine which candidates truly belong among the Vipers.
Time to prepare.
13
AURORA
Istand at the edge of the property, watching waves crash against the rocks below. I came here to clear my head, but the turmoil followed me to my father’s cliff house.
I wrap my arms around myself, shivering despite the afternoon sun. This place used to bring me peace. Now it only reminds me of Hunter pulling me back from the edge that day. His hands were on my waist. His breath was on my neck.
God, I’m pathetic.
My phone buzzes in my pocket—the sixth text from Olivia since this morning. I can’t bring myself to look. The lie about a work assignment in Portland sits like poison in my stomach. I’ve never lied to her before, not about anything important.
“Just a quick weekend trip for an author interview,” I’d told her yesterday, watching her face fall with disappointment.
“But we were supposed to look at floral arrangements tomorrow,” she’d said, her voice small.
The memory makes me wince. I couldn’t stand another minute of wedding talk, especially not when every mention of Hunter’s name makes me feel like I’m drowning.
I turn away from the cliff edge and head back inside. The house is too quiet, too empty. Just me and my thoughts and the ghost of my father in every room.
In the kitchen, I pour a glass of wine even though it’s barely past noon. The red liquid swirls as my hand trembles. I’ve spent my entire life being the reliable one, the strong one. Now I’m hiding from my own sister because I can’t face what I’ve done.
The truth is, I don’t know what scares me more—the possibility that Hunter might reveal our secret, or the terrifying realization that part of me doesn’t want him to stop pursuing me.
I take a long sip, letting the wine burn down my throat. What am I supposed to do now? Tell Olivia everything and destroy her? Keep this horrible secret and let it destroy me instead?
I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, resting my forehead against the cool wood. I came here looking for answers, but all I’ve found is the same impossible choice waiting for me.
I carry my wine to the living room, drawn to the large picture window that frames the ocean like a living painting. The view has always calmed me, even after my father jumped—the endless blue stretching to meet the sky, waves foaming white against the rocks below. Today, it only reminds me how trapped I feel.
I press my forehead against the cool glass, wine glass clasped loosely in my fingers. The afternoon sun glints off the water, almost blinding.
