Questions swim around and around in my head. Who brought us here and why? Did one of my friends murder Saskia? Or is Curtis right, and she’s alive and well somewhere in this very building?

A dozen times I’ve climbed out of bed to check the catch on my door. Without my phone I have no idea what time it is, but it feels like I’ve been lying here for hours. My last watch broke after I wore it in the gym’s Jacuzzi, and I never got around to replacing it—there are clocks all over the gym, and anywhere else I check my phone.

I can’t sleep. I’m too cold. I place the pillow over my chest as an extra layer, but it’s no good. I’ll have to brave the corridor and get another duvet. My dorm is pitch-dark. I grope my way across the floorboards to the light switch. Here it is. Then out into the dark corridor, where I hit the light, too.

The corridor is empty. I let out my breath a little. I don’t know what I expected to see. It’s the middle of the night. Okay, I’m going to do this as fast as possible. I pass Curtis’s door, reach the laundry cupboard, and stretch my hand out. And freeze. Someone’s in there. A female voice. Heather. And a male one. But who?

I put my ear to the door, poised to run if I hear them coming out. The rumbling male tone is too quiet for me to tell. It can’t be Dale—she’d talk to him in bed, surely. Brent or Curtis, then? Is it Brent? And they’re talking about the Icebreaker?

But it could be someone else—Julien. Or some psycho who has brought us here for reasons I can’t imagine. My heart pounds. I want to dive back into the safety of my room but Heather’s voice raises, like she’s upset. Is he threatening her? My palm tenses instinctively against the door. Whatever my feelings for Heather, she’s a fellow female.

I press my ear closer to the door. And the light in the corridor clicks off. Shit.

As I blink in the darkness, a hand clamps over my mouth. Strong arms grip me, whisk me off the ground, and yank me backward down the corridor. I react instinctively, rolling my right shoulder and punching hard with my right fist under my left armpit.

A male grunt. The arms release me but I’m off balance. I stagger back farther and tumble sideways to the floor on top of him, totally disoriented now. A door clicks closed behind us. I scramble off him, whoever he is, and fumble for a light switch. Here.

The light comes on. Curtis sits there, clutching his chest. We’re in his dorm.

“What the fuck were you doing?” I whisper.