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The silence that follows feels almost manufactured. Too convenient for a night filled with murderers waiting for someone to get caught on the outside of the green circle. Which raises a bigger question.

Fucking how?

If hunters can openly attack contestants on public roads, wouldn’t somebody notice?

Traffic cops?

Patrol units?

Random fucking civilians?

Hell, what about security cameras?

Phantom Productions might have pulled a huge percentage of people away, but not everyone. Not even close. The whole ordeal sends a definite chill down my spine, because there are only two possibilities. Either Kill Feed is incredibly lucky. Or Selene owns more people than I originally thought.

Neither answer is comforting, really.

Brake lights flare ahead, and my grip tightens instinctively on the handlebars. Lucas slows down to a halt, and I pull up beside him.

Up ahead, the exact road we need to take is closed. Large reflective barriers stretch across both lanes as orange warning lights blink steadily.

A sign reads:

ROAD UNDER REPAIR

DETOUR AHEAD

Lucas rolls down his window, looking even more flustered than before. “Dude, what do we do now?” he exclaims, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “If we take another road, we’ll end up on the outside of the fucking circle for sure.”

I flick up the visor, looking at him. “Keep driving. We’re not taking another road.”

I don’t expect him to catch on. So far, the circle barely got any smaller, so I don’t think they want the contestants to be caught outside of it just yet. My guess is that there are multiple road closures keeping civilians out and the contestants in. I can be wrong, but turning around now to see if the other road to the forest is open will be a waste of time; if we enter here and there’s no way past, we’re fucked.

“But it’s closed,” Amani states from the passenger seat, half leaning over Lucas to see me.

“It’s not,” I reply, slamming the visor down and leading the way into the closed road.

The motorcycle’s headlight cuts a narrow path through the darkness while the trees crowd closer on either side of the road. My eyes keep flicking between the map and Lucas’s car in the rear-view mirrors. He’s lagging. Not by much, but enough to create gaps between us.

I grit my teeth.

Lucas keeps dropping further back. Shit, I know he doesn’t trust this road, but he needs to step on the gas pedal. Fuck knows where the hunters will come from if we fall behind.

I peer in my mirror again and watch a scene of what appears to be Lucas and Amani arguing. She’s fucking losing it, and he sits there taking it, hardly with his eyes on the road. Fuck, I swear I can jump off my bike and walk faster than he’s driving right now. Did he wait until now to give her the details on Kill Feed?

A sharp digital chime suddenly cuts through the night, pulling my attention forward, and my stomach drops instantly.

The circle flashes green before turning red as my pin falls just outside the circle.

Fuck.

Fucking-fuck.

I immediately raise a hand from the handlebars and make an aggressive forward motion toward Lucas’s car. It surges slightly in response, then accelerates completely, moving past me.

A distant bassline thumps from far behind and beyond the tree lines. The sound swells rapidly before headlights cut in and out of frame in the mirror.

And whoever is driving isn’t slowing down.