The darkness in the locker room felt heavier than it should have.

  Flashlights from Harris and Park cut narrow cones through the dust-filled air, but the beams didn't reach very far. The corners of the room remained black and shapeless.

  Harris rattled the door again.

  The chain outside scraped against metal.

  Locked.

  Exactly the way Olivia Carter had died.

  "Damn it," Harris muttered.

  Park tried her radio again.

  "Dispatch, this is Officer Park—"

  Only static answered.

  No signal.

  Of course. The east gym had always been a dead zone.

  I leaned against the lockers and checked my phone again. The message still glowed on the screen.

  Two players left.

  Harris noticed.

  "Another message?"

  "Yes."

  "From the same number?"

  "Yes."

  "Read it."

  I turned the phone so he could see.

  His jaw tightened.

  "Someone is screwing with us."

  "Maybe," I said.

  Park moved her flashlight slowly across the room. The beam passed over benches, lockers, and the duct where we had found the phone.

  Then it stopped.

  "Look."

  Her light pointed toward the far wall.

  The ventilation grate.

  It was open again.

  Harris frowned.

  "That wasn't like that before."

  "Yes it was," I said.

  "No," Park replied quietly. "Earlier it was hanging loose."

  Now the grate had been removed completely. The duct opening looked darker than the rest of the room.

  Like a mouth.

  Harris stepped closer.

  "You think someone crawled through there?"

  "Possible," Park said. "It leads into the ventilation system above the gym."

  "That's not exactly an escape route."

  "Depends on how desperate you are."

  I studied the opening for a moment.

  Then I said quietly:

  "Madison didn't go through there."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Both detectives turned toward me.

  "How do you know?" Harris asked.

  "Because she's still here."

  Park's flashlight shifted.

  "Where?"

  I pointed toward the lockers.

  "Inside one of those."

  Harris stared at me.

  "You're guessing."

  "No."

  "Then explain."

  "Madison was terrified," I said. "She didn't plan an escape. She ran."

  "And when people panic, they hide."

  Park moved slowly toward the row of lockers. Her beam passed across the doors one by one.

  Then she stopped.

  Locker 12.

  The door was slightly ajar.

  Harris stepped forward and pulled it open.

  Madison Blake tumbled out.

  She hit the floor hard, gasping, eyes wild.

  "Don't let it get me!"

  Harris grabbed her shoulders.

  "Madison, calm down!"

  "It's here!"

  "What is?"

  "The fourth player!"

  The room went silent.

  Park helped Madison sit up.

  "What fourth player?"

  Madison shook her head violently.

  "You don't understand the rules!"

  "Then tell us."

  Madison looked around the dark locker room like a trapped animal.

  "Olivia said it was just a joke at first."

  "What was?" Harris asked.

  "The game."

  "What game?"

  Madison's voice trembled.

  "Last Player Standing."

  My pulse slowed.

  The phrase felt familiar.

  Too familiar.

  "Explain," Park said gently.

  Madison swallowed.

  "Olivia found Lily's diary."

  My heart skipped.

  "What diary?" Harris asked.

  "The one she kept in her backpack."

  "What about it?"

  Madison laughed weakly.

  "Olivia thought it was hilarious."

  "Why?"

  "Because Lily wrote everything down."

  "What kind of things?"

  Madison's voice dropped to a whisper.

  "Everything we did to her."

  The locker room felt colder.

  "So Olivia made the game," Madison continued.

  "What game?" Harris repeated.

  "She said if Lily ever told anyone..."

  Madison's voice cracked.

  "...we'd all go to jail."

  Park's flashlight trembled slightly.

  "So Olivia decided to control the situation."

  "How?"

  Madison looked up slowly.

  "By making sure only one of us could talk."

  Harris frowned.

  "What does that mean?"

  Madison whispered:

  "The last player."

  Silence spread through the room.

  Park said quietly,

  "So whoever survives..."

  "...gets to tell the story."

  Madison nodded weakly.

  "That was Olivia's rule."

  My phone buzzed again.

  Another message.

  I opened it slowly.

  She remembers now.

  Then another message appeared.

  Ask her what happened to the diary.

  I looked at Madison.

  "Where is Lily's diary?"

  Madison froze.

  Then she whispered:

  "Olivia took it."

  "Where?"

  "She hid it."

  "Where?"

  Madison pointed toward the lockers.

  "In here somewhere."

  Harris cursed under his breath.

  "Great."

  Park started opening lockers one by one. Metal doors slammed open in the darkness.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Then—

  Locker 19.

  Park froze.

  "What is it?" Harris asked.

  She didn't answer. Instead she slowly lifted something from inside the locker.

  A small pink notebook.

  My stomach tightened.

  Lily Lin's diary.

  Park opened it carefully. Most of the pages were filled with tight handwriting—dates, descriptions, names, evidence.

  But several pages near the end had been ripped out.

  Park flipped to the last remaining entry.

  Her flashlight illuminated the words.

  January 9.

  Her voice was barely audible when she read it aloud.

  Olivia says we're going to play a game tonight.

  Emma laughed. Madison laughed.

  They think it's funny.

  I think they're going to kill me.

  Park closed the diary slowly.

  The room fell silent again.

  Harris exhaled.

  "Jesus."

  Madison began crying quietly.

  "I told them to stop."

  "No you didn't," I said.

  She looked at me.

  "You laughed too."

  Her face collapsed.

  Park stepped away from the lockers.

  "We need to get out of here."

  "Door's still locked," Harris said.

  "I know."

  She turned her flashlight toward the ventilation duct again.

  "The person texting Ethan..."

  "...they're still inside this building."

  My phone vibrated again.

  Another message.

  You finally understand the game.

  Then one final line appeared.

  And now there are three players left.

  I stared at the screen.

  Because something about that sentence was wrong.

  Earlier it said two players.

  Now it said three.

  Which meant one thing.

  Someone new had just joined the game.

  The locker room door rattled suddenly.

  Metal scraped.

  The chain outside lifted.

  The door creaked open slowly.

  A silhouette appeared in the doorway—backlit by the hallway lights.

  A woman.

  For a moment none of us moved.

  Then Officer Park whispered,

  "Dr. Sarah Lin."

  Lily's sister.

  She stepped into the locker room calmly. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.

  She looked at Madison.

  Then at me.

  Then at the diary in Park's hand.

  Finally she said quietly,

  "Good."

  Harris stepped forward immediately.

  "Dr. Lin, you need to step away from the door."

  She didn't move.

  Instead she said,

  "You found the truth faster than I expected."

  The room went still.

  Park's voice dropped.

  "You sent the messages."

  Sarah smiled faintly.

  "Yes."

  Harris's hand moved toward his holster.

  "Why?"

  Sarah's eyes moved slowly across the room—taking in the lockers, the benches, the place where Lily had died.

  Then she answered calmly.

  "Because the game needed a referee."

  My phone vibrated one last time.

  The message appeared on the screen.

  Final round.