Fitzy’s attention landed on her again. His expression turned sardonic. “Sorry, love, I’m not in the mood for another make-out session right now. Somove.”
His tone was cruel enough to make Carter jump. She edged nearer to the door, clutching the wooden stake. Next to her, Adi was holding the map and the three vials of holy water—maybe they could throw a vial at Fitzy’s head. The thought was so ridiculous that Carter almost started to giggle and had to clamp a shaking hand over her mouth.
Fitzy rubbed his jaw. “Think, Fitzy. Think, think, think.Fuck.” He swung the gun at them again, and they flinched. “What are you even doing here? You were eliminated!”
Carter could hear the others’ breaths around her. Could feel each subtle shift and shudder.
“I need to know why,” Sierra said. Voice steady. Cold.
Fitzy shook his hands in the action of strangling air, the gun waving with the movement. “She was going to take my job! I’ve been here from the start, since we were a tiny production on YouTube. She couldn’t just swoop in and take it from me. I would’ve been deported! Back to my dad and my stepmom, who hated me so much because of a few inconvenient bruises on their precious little baby—”
A horrified breath whooshed from Carter’s lungs. She couldn’t be hearing this.
“And Louis?” Adi said.
“I thought he was the one leaving the clues. So when he bragged about his new conquest”—he scowled at Carter—“I thought I’d meet him at the hotel first, for a friendly chat.”
“In a blond wig?” Adi said.
“I couldn’t be recognized by the hotel staff, obviously.”
Obviously.
Carter’s brain moved through sludge. This Fitzy was not the host who had made her laugh with his silly antics and terrible puns. Surely not the boy who had looked at her like she was smart and special and beautiful. Surely not the boy who had kissed her like . . . like hewantedher.
“I asked him to stop leaving the clues,” Fitzy continued. “He told me it wasn’t him, but I thought he was lying. Lying tome! After years of tolerating his arrogance, his smug looks.God, that pissed me off.”
Adi groaned softly. “The note! Thes. That’s what it was!”
Carter shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from the gun. “It was thegs that were—”
“No, thes.In ‘apologise.’Please apologise to my fans.It’s been nagging at me all this time.”
Carter frowned.
“It’s the British spelling. TheAustralianspelling.”
“Dammit,” Fitzy said. “I always forget that one.”
“How about,” Beck said, “you let us go and we promise not to tell a single person?”
“Yeah, right. Uh-uh.” He swung the gun toward Vera, who had been trying to subtly slip her phone out of her pocket. “Away.”
Vera scowled and left her phone where it was.
“You’ve been trying to sabotage us,” Adi said. “All those threats . . .”
“I figured the easiest way to keep my job safe for another year was to make sure you didn’t make it to the finale. Ranielle only likes winners, and there was no way she’d hire Jarius or one of his cronies. The fanshatethem.”
“The cow’s heart?” said Beck. “Locking us in the freezer?”
“Spiking Carter’s drink,” Sierra added with a growl. “And defiling my painting.”
“Nailed it,” said Fitzy. “Though the freezer was pure serendipity. I saw you sneak into the kitchens and used the circumstances to my advantage.”
Beck’s voice shook. “What were you doing in the complex in the middle of the night in a balaclava?”
Fitzy pressed the barrel of the gun to his lips in a shushing motion, looking almost boyish. “Meeting with Team Dread. We may have been conspiring to take you down. Nothing personal.”
