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I drag the back of my hand across my face, wiping away the moisture, and stare at my hands in utter perplexity.

With my shoulder pressed to the wall, I stay there for several seconds, listening for footsteps. Silence stretches far beyond the twists and turns I can see, and only then do I round the corner.

My skin prickles along the back of my neck as every word Dante said in that room comes rushing back to me. Or, more accurately, I’m thrown by the fact that I actually believe him.

I finally find myself in the middle of the open room Leo spoke about.

I pass through, stepping over a body or two before tearing through another set of hallways and rooms before darkness swallows me again. I duck inside a wooden dresser, half-toppled against the wall, and crouch there in silence.

The longer I’m in Kill Feed, and the deeper I go, the more it feels like I’ve fallen into some warped version of Alice in Wonderland—except nobody gets to wake up from this one.

Tortured screams echo through the halls, followed by the frantic pounding of footsteps. A hunter, I assume.

The moment the lights flicker back on, I’m moving again. I avoid the other players, changing direction the second one comes into view and disappearing down whatever hallway takes me farther away from them.

A passage opens into a vast atrium, and I instinctively slow. Three levels of rusted steel walkways climb toward a glowing archway on the top floor with neon strip lights shaping into words;

SAFE ZONE

Matching LED strips run along every staircase railing, guiding contestants upward like runway lights. Neon graffiti splashes the cracked Victorian brickwork in violent shades of pink, purple, and blue, dully reflecting across the floor below it.

Voices echo from the opening of the safe zone, an indication that there are people who already made it. I glance down at my watch to check how much time I have left, though it hardly matters—the safe zone is just up the flight of stairs.

Movement catches my eye. Three figures burst through the archway opposite me, and I’m relieved to see familiar faces. I’m far from in the mood or condition to put up a fight.

Amani breaks into a run and crashes into me so hard I stumble back a step. Her arms wrap around my torso as she buries her face against my chest. A shaky breath escapes her. “I thought… I thought you were dead.”

“Still breathing,” I utter, resting a hand on her back.

As Amani pulls away, I finally notice the condition she’s in. Blood splatter stains her jacket as a fresh cut slices across her cheek, while dark bruises bloom beneath the skin of her jaw.

She looks fucking exhausted. Shit, I know I am.

I lift my gaze over the top of her head. Lucas looks like he’s been to hell and back, and Leo isn’t looking much better either.

“Did you take care of Mason?” Leo asks as he joins Amani’s side.

I shake my head. “I had to hide; I never went back for him.”

“Dude,” Lucas states, shaken, “that guy has a hole in his hand, a busted nose, and fell down the stairs… I think he might be dead.”

“I’m surprised you’re still standing,” Leo adds, cocking a brow.

I can say the same for you,” I reply. “Did you take care of Jayden?”

“Him and a few others,” he replies, vaguely gesturing to the state the other two are in.

“We need to move,” Lucas says, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. “Another blackout could start any minute.” His gaze sweeps across the open atrium. “Or another contestant decides we’re easy targets.”

I won’t argue with that.

They start toward the staircase, while I follow a few paces behind. My hand closes around the cold steel, lifting my foot toward the first step, just as a gentle hand wraps around my wrist.

I turn.

Amani stands behind me, moisture swelling in her eyes, but it isn’t the tears that catch me. It’s her expression. I’ve never seen her look at me like that before, not with fear or pity, but something closer to understanding. It is like she’s looking straight through me.

Her fingers remain loosely around my wrist without pulling, simply keeping me there.