Bennett let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. New rule.” He pointed at each of us in turn. “From now on, everyone has to wear socks during game night. No exceptions.”

Theo nodded. “Agreed.”

Meanwhile, as everyone bickered, Celeste and Bennett shared a knowing glance. In the chaos of rule-making and accusations, their quiet alliance formed. A secret agreement, just between them, ensuring Bennett would have the upper hand next round.

I gasped. “You can’t just make up new rules because you lost.”

Theo smirked. “Actually, I can. House rules.”

I turned to Orion, hoping for backup. “This is tyranny.”

“For once, I agree with him,” Orion said. “Socks. Mandatory. Forever.”

Celeste pouted dramatically. “You guys just hate fun. We were only thinking outside the box.”

Theo leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “No, we just hate losing unfairly.”

Morgan crossed her arms. “Sounds like sore losers to me.”

“Call it whatever you want,” Bennett said, standing up. “But next time, if I see a single naked toe under that table, I’m flipping it.”

Celeste huffed, kicking her feet up onto an empty chair. “Fine. Socks. Whatever. But you’ll regret this when we beat you fair and square next time.”

Theo shot me a knowing look. “Uh-huh. I’m sure you will.”

And just like that, game night at our house had a new rule—one that I had no doubt we’d find a way around eventually. But for now, I simply sigh, shove my socks on, and prepare for war.

As it turns out, Morgan doesn’t like shoes or socks which brings us back to this moment of Orion forcing her to wear some of my clean socks. They’re soft and cozy, but apparently, it’s weird to share socks.

I glance around at my friends, at the ridiculous socks everyone’s now forced to wear, and I realize that despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty, the looming darkness—we still have this. We still have nights like this. And as long as we do, we’re going to be okay.

At least, until the next round of Uno brings out the worst in us all over again.

The next round begins with a renewed sense of competition. No more secret alliances. No more under-the-table strategies. Just pure, unfiltered chaos.

And, somehow, Bennett is winning.

He’s down to two cards, leaning back in his chair with an almost smug expression. “You’re all about to witness history,” he declares, waving his next card between his fingers like it’s a golden ticket. “The greatest comeback of all time—”

Morgan’s phone rings.

She glances at the screen, then shoots up so quickly that her chair nearly topples over. “It’s the lab.”

All of the joking, all of the ridiculous bickering, falls away in an instant.

She hits speakerphone before anyone can tell her otherwise. “This is Morgan.”

A woman’s voice crackles through the line. “Hi Morgan, this is Dr. Carter, we finished the analysis on the sample you sent in.”