But he felt numb more than anything else, unable to comprehend what had happened. He was supposed to lie. Tell the viewers that his team had come in last place. C’est la vie and whatever.
He didn’t think he could do it.
The studio lights were exceptionally bright here, in front of the faux brick wall where contestants filmed their exit interviews. No casual chats about gameplay or rewatching clips. Just raw emotion.
Beyond the stage, Vera snapped a photo of him. She looked cranky, as usual. At least Fitzy, beyond the lens of the camera, had a slightly furrowed brow, as if this fiasco didn’t sit right with him.
Beck couldn’t get his head around the idea that Adi would cheat. They were supposed to be teammates. They were supposed to trust each other.
It was so aggravating. They should have been celebrating right now. Instead, Beck was going home. No money, and no hope of getting to Sweetbrier any time soon.
“For what it’s worth,” said Fitzy gently, “I’m really sorry, mate. It’s . . .” He glanced at the camera, a flicker of anger passing over his face. “It’s a rough go.”
Realizing that Fitzy wasn’t reading off the script for once shook something loose inside of Beck. He knew, distantly, that anything he said now would be cut apart and pieced back together in some mutation of his true meaning. The only story here was Ranielle’s story, and she didn’t care about Beck. She never had.
But he wasn’t going to be her trained monkey. Not anymore. He would tell the truth.
This entire show was based on lies. There were no geniuses, no teenage savants, no prodigies. There were no villains and certainly no heroes. There were a bunch of actors, saying what they were told to say, and con artist producers pulling every string.
This show was a sham, and Beck was ashamed to have been a part of it.
But no sooner had he opened his mouth than a ruckus broke out beyond the set. People were shouting. Lots of people. Crew members turned to the door. The noise was coming from the greenroom.
Beck ripped off his mic and sprinted toward the hollers and cheers. He barged into the greenroom to find Adi and Jarius wrestling on the floor. Adi was trying to get Jarius’s phone.
“Break it up!” one of the film crew yelled.
Sierra waded into the fray and grabbed Adi by his jacket collar. “Pull yourself together!”
“Give me that phone!” Adi practically screamed it. “Give me your goddamn phone, Jarius!”
Jarius got a punch in, clocking Adi in the jaw. Sierra yanked Adi backward. “Stop! Stop it, both of you!”
Adi fought to free himself from her grip. “I never recorded that conversation. He couldn’t have gotten it from my phone becauseI didn’t record it.”
“It doesn’t matter!”
Sierra’s shriek rang across the room, silencing Adi. He stilled mid-struggle.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sierra said again. “You cheated. You ruined our chance to run the finale!”
When her voice cracked, so did Beck’s heart. What if they could never prove Ranielle killed Alicia?
Adi met Sierra’s gaze. The anger left him in a rush, and he sagged in her grip. She released him, looking disgusted.
Jarius dusted himself off and climbed to his feet. “Whew,” he said, grinning at his team. “That was bracing.”
Adi stared at the floor. The fight had drained out of him. His jaw was beginning to swell where Jarius’s punch had landed.
“Oh!Holy shit!” shouted Keegan from Team Mind Hack, staring at his phone, which he’d been using to film the fight a few seconds ago. “You have to see this.” He turned the phone screen to his teammates. “The police just released Louis’s suicide note. He confessed to killing Alicia Angelos! And Ranielle Russell’s being charged for obstructing justice!”
42
Sierra
No one spoke as they were driven out of the complex and to theloser hotel, where eliminated teams stayed until the episode dropped each Sunday.
Sierra’s anger had yet to subside. Every time she thought about what Adi had done, it roared up again. He hadn’t even tried to apologize. He’d packed his bags without a word while Carter and Beck had hunted through the villa for any stray phone chargers or puzzle books.
