“Any other mad skills I should know about?” he asked.
Carter considered the question more seriously than Beck had expected. “I know pi up to a hundred places?”
“Again.Cool.See, Carter? You have to stay. You’re the best chance we have of winning this thing. Forget about Sierra. You’re here because you’re ridiculously smart.”
“I guess so . . .”
“That’s the spirit,” Beck said. “Now you just need to show the fans what you’re really capable of.”
11
Sierra
Sierra woke before six. She slipped from the bedroom with hertoiletry bag and bundle of clothes, Carter’s soft snores remaining undisturbed. Sierra had returned to the complex late last night to find her roommate asleep and a tote full ofEscape Gamemerch on her bed, which she’d promptly dumped into the trash. All the same crap they’d gotten last year.
She brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, giving herself plenty of time to apply her armor. There was a soothing quality to the ritual, layering the pale foundation, the eye makeup so thick it made her eyelids heavy, the black lipstick sticky from an outer coat of gloss. In the mirror, she watched herself become a girl who didn’t care. Who could take every hit without a flinch.
While her hands went through the morning ritual, her mind replayed the snag round. She didn’t know what to make of her new team. She needed people who were hungry to win. Desperate, even. Carter might feel the pressure of the fan base, but Beck’s and Adi’s stakes were harder to gauge. What were they really here for? Ranielle had a reason for bringing them on. Plenty of teens could do escape rooms. It was the ones with the crunchy backgrounds that made for good TV.
Sierra cinched her ponytail so high on her head that the tips of her coarse inky hair hung above her shoulder line. The effect was marred by the fluffy white towel she was wrapped in. Soon she’d be decked in her costume, clomping around in her boots, but for now her skinny shoulders and knobbly knees made her look like a kid who’d been playing with her mother’s makeup.
Her phone dinged on the counter. Not a text message—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten one of those—but a sale alert. She swiped it open. Sales of her artwork weren’t exactly lucrative, but they made enough to keep her afloat from month to month. Every order helped, and someone had just bought a print ofDance Macabre, one of her older paintings.
“Thank you for your patronage,” she muttered, approving the order and submitting it to the third-party printer that fulfilled the sales. “And that is deserving of a celebration.”
She dug into the ziplock bag hidden in her clothes and pulled out her last chocolate chip cookie. Breakfast of champions. She savored it as she got changed, careful not to leave behind any crumbs.
Fueled, armored, and ready for battle.
As expected, Elijah was swimming laps in the pool when Sierra slipped out her villa’s door. He had done the same thing every morning last season. Overachieving prick.
Lucky for her, it made him oblivious to the world. Now that she thought about it, he was awfully vulnerable, paddling his way up and down the length of the pool. Goggles on and earplugs in. How easy it would be to sneak up on someone like that. A knife to the back. A rope around his throat.
We get what we deserve.
Sierra circled the pool deck, staying close to the fringes, until she came to Villa 4. It was Elijah and Lisa’s villa now, but last season, it had belonged to her sister’s team. The last place Alicia had ever slept. Sierra’s steps led her past where she and Alicia had had their final argument.
The memories from that night were engraved on her mind. A million questions. A million doubts.
She rounded the villa, standing on tiptoes to see over the privacy wall. No sign of the other RA.
Annoyingly, the gate handle didn’t budge. One little murder and suddenly everyone was paranoid enough to lock up.
Sierra backed up and surveyed the wall. It was too high to climb without drawing attention to herself.
The rhythmic splashing stopped.
With a kick at the wall, Sierra skulked back toward the pool. Elijah was drying his hair with a towel, his back to her.
He really was an easy target, wasn’t he?
She was mere steps away when he finally turned. He yelped, stumbled—and fell into the water.
Sierra crouched at the edge while he came up.
“Sierra,” he spluttered. “What are you doing here?”
“Scaring the crap out of you.”
