Page 156 of The Most Dangerous Games

“Hey, kid, here’s something that’s not complicated at all,” Jack says. “You’ve got things you want to say to us? Get in here and say them to our faces.”

He turns to look at Ward Hillshire, still frozen in place.

Jack steps toward Ward, voice low and dangerous. “Did you know he was going to do this? Did you know he was listening the whole time?”

“Do I look like I knew?”

The door behind him opens.

Wyatt isn’t the one who comes walking into the room.

There are four guards in black jumpsuits instead. They silently come and stand behind each of them at the table.

“Time for the final tests,” they hear Wyatt say over the speaker.

“We’re still doing this?” Jack says.

“Not my call,” Wyatt says. “But yes. The final act was always supposed to be here.”

“Where?” Alek demands.

“Downstairs,” Wyatt says.

Then he adds: “Good luck to all of you. I mean that, whether you feel like believing me or not.”

Wyatt pauses.

Then his tone changes—harder, aimed to cut.

“And now, Dad, as your last official act as the person in charge of these games, take them to the rooms,” he says.

He waits one more beat and adds:

“I’m in charge now.”

108.

Ward Hillshire reluctantly accompanies them in the elevator, the city spread out below the glass.

He exhales through his nose, like he’s already tired of them all.

“Think of what is about to happen as endgames,” he says. “Extreme tests designed for you all individually. Predetermined by my father long ago. And ones that he always said were nonnegotiable, unfortunately.”

“More extreme than the duels?” Alek asks. “Or the lies you’ve been feeding us from the beginning?”

“Take it up with my son afterward, if you survive one more time, Ms. Andrich,” he says. “It really has been our firm belief all along that what doesn’t kill you in these games will make all of you stronger, and help us identify the strongest possible leader among you. Many things have changed—just in the past few minutes. But not that.”

Alek says, “More mind games.”

Ward gives her a thin look. “Everything has been a mind game. Even when it looked like something else.”

Jack says, “What about your father? Is he actually dead? Or is that another layer?”

Ward’s jaw tightens. “He’s dead.”

Tipton says, “And your boy just took your crown.”

Ward’s eyes flicker. Not denial. Humiliation.