"It's disgusting. He probably makes hundreds of millions a month. This twenty-five mil he's dangling in front of us? Pocket change," Camden groaned.
"It's giving God complex," Thalia grumbled. "Like some sick mashup of Battle Royale, The Hunger Games, and Squid Game—but for the elite. Just another reality show to them."
"You think he's watching us right now?" Ren asked, eyes darting toward the marble pillars around them.
"You even need to ask?" Thalia snorted. "This whole estate is probably wired up to its gold-plated asshole with hidden cameras. He said it himself—he wants entertainment. And we? We're the show."
She sighed, arms crossing.
"And let's not forget—he handpicked every one of us. Because he knows we all need that damn money."
"He's been playing us from the start," Camden said, shaking his head.
"But let's be real," Ren added, rubbing a hand through his hair, "people like us? We'd never see twenty-five million in a hundred lifetimes. And he knows that. That's why he can afford to put us through hell."
"At least it's not a kill-each-other-until-one-remains kind of game," Mateo said quietly. "There's still a chance many of us make it out alive. And I need that, even if I don't win. I've got people waiting on me."
Thalia glanced his way. "Kids?"
He nodded. "Two boys. They're with my sister right now. It's just us since my wife died of leukemia three years ago. We've been drowning in debt ever since."
Ren's voice was soft now. "I've got a sister who needs me too. And my mom. My dad died when I was little, so it's just us three. They're counting on me."
Camden spoke next, bitterness under his breath. "My mom and younger sister. My dad bailed the second he found out my mom was pregnant again. Been with some other woman ever since. Barely even pays the damn settlement."
"I've got three younger sisters," Anastasia said, her voice a little unsteady. "Our parents were both soldiers. They were killed in the war between Russia and Ukraine. Now my sisters only have me."
And Thalia thought, Either they're naïve and foolish enough to spill their hearts to potential enemies... or they're playing one hell of a game.
She took a long breath, subtly letting her hands tremble. Let them think she was shaken. Let them buy it.
"I... I had both parents until I was eight," she began, weaving her fiction with practiced ease. "Then my dad was killed in a shooting. My mom couldn't afford to raise me alone—not in Greece, not without money. She left me at an orphanage."
Thalia paused just long enough to make it hurt.
"I was there until I turned eighteen. No one wanted to adopt an older kid, no matter how 'pleasing' their looks were. So... I've got no one. No one would mourn me if I died in here. That's why I didn't mind the death clause. That's why I signed."
They finally reached the massive dining table set outdoors by the infinity pool. Thalia took her place at the edge. Ren sat on her right, Camden on her left. Anastasia sat beside Ren, Mateo next to Camden.
Then came the others.
The persistent Italian Eagle, Alessandro, claimed the seat beside Anastasia. The Australian Serpent, Elijah, sat next to Camden. The Brazilian Shark, Rafael, dropped down beside Alessandro. And the Egyptian Bear girl—whose name Thalia still didn't know—took the seat beside Elijah. The rest of the players settled within their teams.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you, principessa greca," Alessandro said gently.
"Being orphaned while one of your parents is still alive..." Elijah added, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Thalia. That's rough."
Thalia ran a hand through her hair and let out a breathy sigh. Heads turned, gazes lingered—but she acted like she didn't notice.
Too easy.
"It's fine. Really." Thalia gave a shrug that was half-defeated, half-determined. "Everyone here's dragging some kind of hell behind them. That bastard picked us for a reason—because we're desperate enough to willingly walk into this madness for a chance at twenty-five million pounds."
She gave a bitter laugh. "At least some of you have someone waiting on the other side of this."
Ren leaned in, gently touching her hand. "You have... no one outside?"
"No family. No friends," she said softly, letting her voice thin into a whisper, cracked in all the right places. "I'm from Aigani. A little village in Thessaly, tucked on the southeastern slopes of Mount Olympus. You wouldn't know it—stone houses, narrow roads, olive trees older than sin. It's small. Quiet. Almost magical, if you're into that kind of thing. Views stretching all the way to the Aegean Sea on a clear day. You can almost taste the salt on the wind."
Her eyes turned glassy, distant. "It's not far from the Vale of Tempe. Maybe twenty minutes from Velika Beach. Stomio too. It's the kind of place where the world forgets you. Less than a thousand people live there, and most of them are older than the village itself. They still have religious festivals, saints and harvest days, oil pressing, everything steeped in ritual and tradition. I was raised Greek Orthodox, but until I was fifteen... I believed in the old gods too. I used to leave offerings at little shrines tucked in the woods. Naïve, I guess."
The pause was just long enough. Enough to let the sentiment breathe before it turned sour.
"My mother left me at an orphanage. Said she couldn't afford to raise me. She moved to Larissa—just under fifty kilometers from Aigani—and never looked back. I tried to run away to her more times than I can count. Once, when I was fifteen, I actually made it. Found her on the street with her new family. New child. She walked right past me and didn't even blink. Didn't recognize her own daughter."
She clenched her jaw and forced herself to exhale through her nose, keeping the tremble in her voice just enough to be heard but not pitied.
"I walked back that night. Thought about stepping in front of a car, but I couldn't do it. I started clinging to my history teacher instead—young, broke, sweet in that motherly way that isn't quite real, but almost is. She taught me things the orphanage didn't. How to cook, how to grow herbs, how to mend ripped clothes. She told me about Jesus, but she still believed in dreams."
Another bitter laugh, sharper this time.
"She said she was leaving to change her life. That she'd come back rich. That she'd fix everything." Thalia's voice dipped, haunted. "She left a letter. Then she disappeared."
Across the table, the air tightened. Everyone held their breath.
"She joined the Trials," Ren whispered.
Thalia gave a small, sorrowful nod. "She died here. For the same promise we're chasing."
The others stared, silent and stunned. She gave them a look—a masterclass in hollow grief. Broken. Brave. Alone.
"So no, I don't care about the death clause. I don't have anyone to mourn me. I've spent years waiting for someone to save me. Not anymore. I'll save myself. I've got nothing left to lose. But I'm not going down easy, either. If I die... at least it'll be here, where she did. Somehow that feels better than fading out somewhere nobody even knows my name."
Her voice cracked, the tears perfectly placed in her lashes—not falling, but shimmering. She gave a wry smile. "Besides... she'd come back from the grave and murder me if I gave up."
The others sat there, wide-eyed and silent, swallowing every word.
And beneath the carefully calibrated grief, the Wolf watched.
Hummed with quiet amusement.
Everything was going exactly according to plan.