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That answer destroys my argument. Callum adjusts me in his lap. I let the blanket fall open. Rhys cleans my stomach and thighs with slow, careful strokes. He removes every trace of sweat, lubricant, and the men who shared me without making me feel ashamed of any of it. Callum supports my back. Dante feeds me pieces of chocolate. The care feels more intimate than the sex. Maybe because the fantasy no longer protects us. Maybe because kindness is harder to dismiss as part of the game. I finish the water. Rhys rests his palm against my knee.

“How are you emotionally?”

The question makes me pause.

“Good.”

“Only good?”

“Overwhelmed.”

Callum’s hand stops moving.

“In a bad way?”

“No.” I look at the three masks surrounding me. “I’m trying to figure out what happens after this.”

Dante sits beside me.

“That makes four of us.”

“You planned everything else.”

“We planned until midnight,” Rhys says.

“And after midnight?”

Callum answers.

“After midnight was the part I was afraid to plan.”

His honesty fills the chapel. I touch the gold ribbon. The hunt continues because Callum refuses to remove it. Their masks remain because the hunt continues. A convenient circle protecting all four of us from whatever exists outside it. I lift my wrist.

“Take it.”

Callum stiffens.

“No.”

“Then remove your mask.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because if the mask comes off, the game ends.”

I look around the chapel. At the extinguished candles. At the black rope lying beside us. At Rhys’s gloves, Dante’s discarded shirt, and Callum’s flannel crumpled on the floor.

“The game ended when you wrapped me in a blanket and Dante fed me organic gummy worms.”

“They are organic,” Dante insists.

I ignore him.

“Callum.”

His gaze meets mine through the holes cut into the burlap.