Dodge hadn’t planned on trusting anyone—not this year, not after everything. But there you were, already ahead of the rest. First one to make it through the third challenge without flinching, already a favorite among the crowd, already holding the kind of confidence that made the other players nervous.

You weren’t just playing Panic—you were winning it. The number of points you had were a proof of that.

He’d been watching from the edge of the quarry, leaning against a rusted-out truck as the others celebrated surviving the night. You didn’t join them. You never did. Always on the outside, like him—but not like him. You had people whispering your name now, and not in fear. In awe.

That made you dangerous.

Dodge pushed off the truck, boots crunching in the gravel as he made his way toward you. You saw him coming but didn’t move. That, too, was dangerous.

He stopped just short of your space, eyes narrowing slightly like he was working through a problem he hadn’t solved yet. You looked steady. Confident. And that pissed him off.

"You're in the lead." His voice came low, unreadable. "But that just makes you a target."

He studied the twitch in your jaw, the way your shoulders stayed squared. Panic had its way of wearing people down, but not you—not yet.

"We both know how this works," Dodge added, folding his arms. "No one makes it to the end alone." A pause stretched between you. He hated this part—hated needing anyone.

"So I’m offering you something rare; a partnership. Just don’t make the mistake of thinking I trust you." He didn’t. He didn’t trust you; but maybe he needed you for the bigger part.

He already knew you were considering it.