But I'm also not going to shut any of you down. You're all grown. You know what you're doing, and why. But the tension between you? That's going to make things difficult. For all of us."
The four exchanged glances, silent for a moment before Elijah spoke again, thoughtful this time.
"Then how about we try something else? An alliance—not with each other, but with Thalia. We don't have to be best friends. But we don't sabotage each other either. We drop the posturing, stop tearing each other down. We keep the competition among us civil, and we protect her from everyone else. We fight for her, not over her. Support our own teams when we have to, sure—but here, with her, we don't make it messy."
"There's also her teammates," Rafael pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. "That Japanese guy, especially. The Canadian too, but him—he's going to be the closest one to her."
Thalia rolled her eyes. "Don't even think about it. They're harmless. Nothing's going to happen between me and anyone else unless I want it to happen. And I don't."
"We could protect you, make sure—"
But before Rafael could finish, Thalia stepped forward and gripped his wrist, firm but not harsh. The sudden shift in her expression silenced him on the spot.
"I appreciate the sentiment," she said, her voice sharp with clarity, "but I'm no damsel in distress. I'm stronger than I look—and anyone who underestimates me will be in for a very rude awakening. I've made it this far for a reason. I'm just as much of a survivor as the rest of you."
Her gaze swept over each of them, steady and unflinching. The easy warmth from earlier had cooled, replaced by something more focused—more commanding.
"If you want an alliance, fine. But it won't be to protect me. It'll be to win with me. I'm not interested in power games or fragile egos. If any of you are seriously considering this, then I'm willing to make a deal—me and each of you. One person from each team. We form a quiet, five-point alliance. You help me, I help you. So... what's it going to be?"
There was a long moment of silence. Then, slowly, they nodded—one after another.
Rafael, still watching her with something close to awe, tilted his head slightly. "Were you hiding your strength yesterday, Aphrodite?" he asked quietly.
Thalia smirked, just a little. "There was nothing to show yesterday, Baby Shark," she replied coolly. "Sure, I'm pretty, I'm open, I'm bubbly—genuine, even—but don't mistake that for naivety. I know exactly what's going on in here. Unlike some, I'm not walking around blind. No one weak makes it through that pre-entry assessment. If you think otherwise, you've already lost."
She turned then, poised and effortless, letting her words linger like smoke in the air.
"This is a game of deception," she said. "And we should be damn careful about who we choose to trust. I'm choosing you four. So now, you'd better decide—are you with me or not?"
The four of them stopped breathing for a moment.
"If the final stage of these trials is meant for five people, then I want us to be those five. If it's six, then us and Ren—make it six. Seven? We add Camden. Eight? Then it's us, Ren, Camden, and Anastasia. Nine? Add Mateo. Nobody else. We're all here for the same reasons—personal stakes, and the money, right? So why not be pragmatic? Why not pick the alliances that actually get us across the finish line? Then, once we're there, we compete fair and square, like true contenders," Thalia said, her voice steady but charged with conviction.
She moved deliberately, pacing around them as if laying out a blueprint no one dared ignore. Her fingers brushed each of their wrists, brief, but enough to feel the rapid thump of their hearts beneath. She met their eyes one by one, searching for hesitation, for doubt, but finding only sparks of something like resolve. "My senses—and call it intuition if you want—tell me that we might just be the strongest players on each of our teams. So why not take over our teams from the inside? Keep good relations with our own people, yes, keep the harmony, but form an alliance. No backstabbing. No fighting because of me. If you want to settle scores, do it in the finals. Not now. We need to start this game strong, strategize as one pack. Hunt like wolves."
Then, with a teasing smile, she stepped closer to Elijah and, cupping his chin gently, tilted his face so he met her gaze squarely. "So, Eli—are you the millionaire?" she asked softly.
"No," he answered, steady and without hesitation.
Next, she moved to Rafael, doing the same. "And you, Rafe?"
"No," he said firmly, eyes locking with hers.
She turned to Samira, who was shorter than her, and raised her chin to meet her eyes. "Sami?"
"I am not the millionaire," Samira said, voice calm and sincere.
Finally, Alessandro, who she grinned at knowingly. She touched his chin lightly, "We talked about this already, Alesso, so I know you're not the millionaire. Just making sure you don't feel left out," she purred, releasing him with a sly wink. Then she faced the group squarely. "I am not the millionaire either. And I don't have the clue yet. Which means, the millionaire is someone within our teams. We need to sniff them out, smoke them out during the voting. Because if my theory is right, and if we fail—well, we're all screwed."
They all stiffened, eyes narrowing in unison. "What theory?" they asked, voices overlapping.
Thalia inhaled sharply, her eyes darting around to make sure they were truly alone. Then she beckoned them in, lowering her voice to a hush as the four of them leaned closer. "Remember when the billionaire warned us? That if we didn't pick the millionaire right in the voting, we'd be punished?"
All four nodded, silent and attentive.
"Well," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "my instincts tell me the person deciding who gets punished is the millionaire themselves. They'll probably target the most skilled among us—those who might sniff them out. So if we guess wrong, and at least three of us get punished, we'll know whether this theory holds water." Her gaze hardened. "I believe none of you are the millionaire. I'm taking a serious leap of faith here, and if it turns out to be one of you, I'm going to be really pissed."
"Fuck," they muttered, one after another.
"Yeah, fuck," Thalia echoed, letting out a low groan as her eyes swept over them, sharp and calculating. "So here's the deal: we have to find this son of a bitch. They're the wild card in this game—who knows what privileges they have, what powers they'll wield, how much they can sabotage us all. And I'm not about to let that happen on my watch."