The afternoon sun softened into a hazy gold as the next challenge was announced. It wasn't a grand hunt or anything extravagant -- just a carefully orchestrated game in the manicured field behind the glasshouse garden. Four players at a time, paired into temporary teams, their task simple enough on the surface: a relay of wit and strategy that tested both quickness and partnership.
Damien's hand rested loosely on Maya's back as they walked toward the marked area. To everyone else, she was Isla -- Damien's poised girlfriend, the woman who seemed to belong perfectly at his side. But inside, Maya was calculating, aware of every stare, every subtle ripple of tension that came with her presence here.
Across from them, Logan and Brielle took their places, the air between them taut with silent promises and unspoken rivalry. Brielle's practiced smile glimmered under the light, but her eyes sharpened the instant they landed on Maya. Logan, however, was locked elsewhere -- his gaze found Maya far too easily, clinging to her with a mix of longing and desperation.
The referee gave a sharp nod. "Pairs ready?"
"Yes," Damien answered, his tone steady, almost bored, as if challenges like these never rattled him.
Logan's voice cut through. "Ready." A little too fast, too clipped.
The whistle blew.
The first round required each team to solve a sequence puzzle together before racing to the next checkpoint. Damien leaned closer to Maya, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Focus only on me. Not them."
Maya gave the faintest smile, one meant only for the part she was playing. "You don't need to remind me." Her voice as Isla carried confidence -- measured, calm.
They bent over the puzzle, their movements sharp and synchronized. Damien passed her tiles, and she set them in place, almost instinctively aligning to his rhythm. Logan and Brielle weren't far behind, but already cracks showed: Logan rushed, impatient, while Brielle snapped corrections under her breath.
"Slower," she hissed at him. "You're skipping pieces."
"I know what I'm doing," Logan shot back, but his hands betrayed him, fumbling.
Maya caught it from the corner of her eye and allowed herself a quiet victory smile before locking back to Damien's side. Within moments, their puzzle clicked into place, and Damien pulled her toward the next stage.
The second challenge was balance -- one partner blindfolded, guided across a narrow beam by the other's voice.
Logan seized the blindfold first, almost too eager. "I'll lead," he said, thrusting it toward Brielle.
Her lips pressed tight, but she complied. "Fine. Don't mess it up."
On their side, Damien simply handed Maya the blindfold without discussion. "Trust me," he murmured.
Maya hesitated just briefly -- not from doubt, but from the awareness that Logan's eyes were drilling into her even now. Still, she nodded, slipping the fabric over her eyes. "I do."
The words weren't just for show; they carried weight.
"Step forward," Damien instructed, his voice calm, even. She followed, each movement steady under his guidance. He never raised his tone, never let urgency cut through. And in that steadiness, Maya found herself moving as though the beam were a wide road rather than a strip suspended above shallow water.
Across the field, Logan's voice barked in frustrated bursts. "Left -- no, right! Can't you feel it, Brielle? Balance your weight -- damn it!"
"Stop shouting!" Brielle snapped, flailing before regaining herself. The sharp exchange earned chuckles from the small crowd watching, whispers cutting like blades.
Maya's blindfold came off at the finish, her eyes immediately meeting Damien's. Something in the exchange drew silence between them, a current of understanding that didn't need performance. They were in sync -- and Logan knew it.
By the time the third round began, tension had grown thick. It was a test of precision: two players at each station, throwing small rings onto staggered poles. Timing, patience, teamwork.
Damien and Maya stepped forward first. She held the rings lightly, as though she'd done this a hundred times before. He gestured for her to begin, his trust evident.
The first ring landed with a clean snap onto the pole. The second followed swiftly. Together, they built momentum, each throw smooth, their rhythm in perfect echo.
Behind them, Logan bristled. "We can beat this," he muttered.
Brielle didn't look convinced. "Not with the way you're throwing."
"I can do better."
"Then prove it."
Logan's throw missed, bouncing off the pole. His jaw clenched, frustration boiling in the flush of his face. He tried again, harder, but the angle failed him. Brielle let out a low, biting laugh. "Pathetic."
That laugh was fuel, but it only made him more reckless. Each failed attempt painted the air thicker with his desperation.
The whistle cut through, signaling the end of the round. Damien and Maya had cleared more poles, their victory decisive.
The applause was polite, muted -- but the stares weren't. Eyes darted between the four, whispers flowing fast.
Maya stood straighter, collecting herself. She didn't gloat; that wasn't Isla's style. Instead, she adjusted her sleeve, ignoring Logan entirely.
"Good game," Damien said mildly, though his hand lingered at the small of her back in subtle possession.
Brielle's smile returned, thin as glass. "How… charming."
Logan, however, stepped forward, his voice rough with edges. "One more round. With us against you two." His gaze flicked to Maya -- Isla -- but the hunger there was unmistakable. "Let's see if it was luck or not."
"Logan..." Brielle started, but he cut her off.
"Unless you're scared?"
Damien didn't even blink. "We don't play for scraps." He was already walking away with Maya in step beside him.
Yet the silence left behind was heavier than any victory. Logan's fists clenched, his stare burning holes into the ground where Maya's footsteps faded.
And Brielle -- her patience snapped. She turned to him, her whisper sharp enough to slice skin. "You humiliate yourself every time you look at her like that."
Logan's glare shot toward her, but Brielle didn't flinch. For once, her venom wasn't hidden behind charm. "She'll never be yours again."
The words hung, poisonous and final.
But the real danger wasn't Logan's fury -- it was the spark lit in Brielle's eyes when they drifted back toward Maya. A spark that promised the conflict had only just begun.