22. Logan

22LOGAN

The room tilts, and I’m on my hands and knees.

Someone grips my arm, trying to help me up.

Elody. I throw her off. I don’t want her stupid sisterly touch. I don’t want anyone’s hands on me.

The wine fog is clearing, everything sharpening to one point: Zane, lying on the floor. Zane’s body. Zane isn’t a person anymore, and all I can think is that this is my fault. If I hadn’t brought up those DMs, if I hadn’t been so set on making him pay for it …

“I don’t understand,” Kira says. “How did he get exposed to peanuts?”

Peanuts. I take a shuddering breath. Peanuts are what killed Zane, not me. It’s almost ironic: Zane Rivers, the untouchable king of TikTok, was brought down by a legume. I would laugh, if I didn’t think I was about to throw up or pass out.

“Was he allergic to anything else?” Corinne asks.

“No.” Graham’s voice is thick and raw with tears.

“Just spitballing here,” Aaron says, “but what if someone slipped them in?”

My stomach drops.

“Why would someone do that?” Kira asks, terror flooding her expression.

“Because this is what they want!” Graham yells. He thrusts out his watch. “Tilly. The Sponsor. Whoever the hell they are, they want to expose us and kill us one by one. I told you guys this would all blow up at us, and no one listened!”

“Hold on,” Max says. “Are we talking about one of us slipping peanuts to Zane? Because that’s—”

“Exactly what happened,” Graham snaps.

I can’t make myself look at him, but I can feel his eyes, the accusation searing into me. It’s exactly how Kira looked at me, her eyes shifting slowly from the wine bottle to my face.

“But how would they even do that?” Max pulls a hand through his hair. “Peanuts have a pretty recognizable taste.”

“Peanut oil,” Kira says quietly. “If you mixed it with the right thing, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Like wine,” Graham says.

Finally, I look at him. He’s ghost-pale, except for the red around his nose, his eyes. His eyes, telling me that he’s already made up his mind. That he knows exactly what I am.

“I didn’t poison Zane,” I tell him.

“Then how do you explain him dying five minutes after he drank your wine?”

“Yeah, my wine,” I repeat. “He took it from me. It’s not like I shoved it down his throat.”

Graham takes a step toward me, and his fury sends me crawling backward.

“You got the bottle from the kitchen. You let him drink it. You’re the one who had those DMs printed out and ready to show everyone. Who else could have done this?”

“Okay, wait.” Elody walks over to the bottle, fully spilled on the floor next to Zane, and picks it up, wincing as she gets close to his body. “It’s a cheap-ass screw-top. Anyone could have opened it and put something in there, like, anytime today.” Her eyes dart around the room. “It could have been any of you.”

“It could have been Tilly, too,” Corinne adds. “Or anyone who was here before us.”

Max walks over and takes the bottle from Elody. Adjusting his glasses, he holds it up to the light.

“I don’t think I see any oil in here. It’s hard to tell.”

“Oh my god, obviously it’s in there,” Elody says. “Like, he didn’t just inhale peanut oil in the air!”

Max flushes. “Unless it was on someone’s mouth.”

Elody laughs wryly. “Right. So, I ate some peanuts and then kissed Zane? Why the hell would I do that?”

“It could have been on Graham’s vape,” I realize. “Zane used it, too.”

“Are you serious?” he growls.

“Everyone stop it!”

We all freeze, staring at Kira. Rational, calm Kira. Something about her freaking out makes this even scarier.

“No one killed Zane,” she says. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sorry, babe, but three people are dead,” Elody says. “Nothing makes sense.”

Kira starts to pace. “Think about it. If their plan is to expose us with these Instagram posts, then why would they kill us, too? Wouldn’t they want us to … to suffer the consequences?”

“I’m starting to think whoever we’re dealing with isn’t exactly a rational individual,” Aaron says.

“Unless this is their version of making us suffer the consequences.” Horror warps Corinne’s face. “Unless they want the rest of us to watch as they pick us off one by one.”

Kira shakes her head. “Why would anyone—”

“Bring us all here to kill us?” Elody interrupts, more frantic by the second. “I don’t know. All I know is we’re stranded, the phone is gone, and now three people are dead. Two of those people died after we voted for them to get ‘canceled.’ Like, if you think that’s a coincidence, then sorry, babe, but you’re living on another planet.” She stops, pressing her nails against her mouth, still bruised from sucking Max’s face. “Oh my god. We’re supposed to be here for three weeks. We could literally all die and no one would even know!”

A sound bubbles out of me, somewhere between a dark laugh and a cry. She’s right. We could all die, and no one would know. And once they did, when it was too late, what would they have to say about us? Clickbait headlines calling us TikTokers and Instagrammers and influencers. That stupid word. And what would they call me? Ex–Bounce House member Logan Costello. Just like all the other articles, the ones about me leaving. Because even when I try to leave, I can’t. Even now, with Zane lying dead on the floor, I can’t get out of his grip.

Nausea lurches in my stomach, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“We should look through the kitchen,” Corinne says, launching into clear-eyed focus. “The peanuts had to come from somewhere.”

She leads everyone to start the search, and I follow like the dust hanging in the golden glow of the windows, floating there, feeling like I’m watching all of this from above, from one of the cameras on the wall. Watching as they open every last drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. As Kira unscrews the olive oil and sniffs it. As Max digs through the trash. As Corinne and Aaron open the fridge, sifting through everything inside.

Nothing. There’s nothing.

And I know I should be panicking, but I’m just tired. So tired of looking for things when we know they won’t turn up. Of the world speeding along when all I want is just a few minutes of stillness, of giving in to my heavy bones and lying on the ground.

What would Harper think if she could see me right now? I came here for her, so I could get my career back on track and be the older sister she needs me to be. I came here for me, so I could prove to Zane and everyone else that I didn’t need him. And now …

My heartbeat kicks up, sweat prickling at the back of my neck and my palms. Zane’s still lying there with that horrible look frozen on his face. We can’t just keep going when there’s a body in the living room.

I turn away from the kitchen and walk to the living room. There has to be a blanket, something to cover him up. But I don’t see anything. This isn’t the type of cozy house I always dreamed about when I was little, with throw blankets flung over the couch for whenever you get cold. It’s like the Bounce House: all looks, no comfort.

“Logan?” Graham sees me first. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer him, just go to the storage closet and throw it open. There has to be something in here. But I don’t see anything. Except …

I stop. Something’s different. Wrong. I scan the old rain jackets, the empty hangers, the cleaning supplies, until I land on the box, the one Aaron found the gun in. It’s slightly open, the latch popped.

My heart hammers as I reach out and take it, opening the lid all the way. Inside, there’s nothing but gray foam and a gun-shaped indentation.

“What the hell are you—”

Graham stops a few feet behind me. The rest of them are watching me now, too, waiting.

“The gun,” I tell them. “It’s gone.”