The "shower" wasn’t just a bucket with holes in it. Because Damien Sinclair didn’t do half-asures, it was a portable, solar-powered eco-pod with privacy screens, heated water, and fluffy white towels that sohow stayed dry in 90% humidity.
Aria stepped inside, peeling off her wet, clinging tactical gear. The water hit her skin—hot, clean, and pressurized—and she let out a groan that was pure, unadulterated bliss. She washed the salt of the Cenote and the mud of the jungle from her hair, lathering it with the strawberry shampoo Damien had specifically requested.
It slled like ho. It slled like the mornings in the penthouse before the world went crazy.
"You spoil ," she had told him.
"I protect you," he had replied.
Aria leaned her forehead against the shower wall, letting the water run down her spine. She wasn’t just washing off dirt; she was washing off the "Black-Belly Queen" persona for five minutes. Under the armor, her muscles ached. Her hands, though healing, throbbed from the climb.
She wasn’t invincible. She was just angry enough to ignore the pain.
When she stepped out ten minutes later, wrapped in a robe that was softer than a cloud, she found a fresh set of dry clothes waiting in a waterproof bag. Not tactical gear this ti—soft linen pants and a loose shirt. Practical, but comfortable.
She dressed quickly and erged from the pod, towel-drying her hair.
The contrast with the rest of the group was jarring.
Bella was sitting on a rock, shivering in her wet clothes. Her hair was drying into a frizzy, tangled ss. She stared at Aria with eyes that were no longer just jealous—they were dead. Defeated.
Lucas was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. He had abandoned the sandbag at the bottom of the Cenote, and the silence from the "Ga Master" since his disqualification announcent was driving him insane.
"You look... clean," Leo said, looking up from where he was trying to open a coconut with a rock. He looked like a wet puppy who had rolled in sand.
"It was magical, Leo," Aria said, sitting down on a dry log. "Next ti, don’t cannonball. Form counts."
"Uncle!" Lucas suddenly shouted at the nearest cara drone. "I dropped the bag! I got the flag! What does ’disqualified’ an? Am I off the show?"
The drone whirred, its red eye fixing on him.
The massive screen by the treeline flickered to life. Damien was back. He had changed into a navy polo shirt, looking relaxed and infuriatingly comfortable.
"Disqualified from the Reward," Damien clarified, his voice smooth. "Did you think I’d let you leave that easily, Nephew? The audience is just starting to have fun."
Lucas sagged with relief. "Oh. Okay. So I just... don’t get a shower?"
"You don’t get a shower," Damien agreed. "And because you abandoned your ’Burden’—the physical manifestation of your sins—you also forfeit your supplies."
Lucas froze. "My... what?"
"Your sleeping bag. Your tent. Your water rations," Damien listed. "A man who cannot carry his weight does not deserve comfort. You will sleep under the stars tonight, Lucas. Try not to let the mosquitoes carry you away."
"You can’t do that!" Lucas shrieked. "It’s going to rain again!"
"Then I suggest you start weaving palm fronds," Damien said. "Or beg Bella to share. Oh, wait... cohabitation rule. Tough luck."
The screen went black.
Lucas stood there, stripped of everything. He looked at his tent, which was currently being packed up by a silent production assistant who had erged from the bushes.
"No!" Lucas grabbed the bag. "That’s mine!"
The PA, a large man who looked like he wrestled bears, simply pulled it out of Lucas’s grip and walked away.
Lucas turned to Bella. "Bella..."
"Don’t even ask," Bella snapped, turning her back on him. She was busy trying to wring water out of her dress. She had realized sothing important today: Lucas was an anchor. And if she stayed tied to him, she would drown.
She looked over at Leo.
"Leo," Bella said, her voice softening into a sickly-sweet coo. "You have a tent, right? And extra water?"
Leo looked up, blinking. "Uh, yeah. Sister Aria helped set it up."
"I’m so cold," Bella whispered, hugging herself. "And thirsty. Could you... maybe share?"
Aria watched the pivot. Bella was switching targets. If she couldn’t rely on the Alpha (Lucas), she would manipulate the Beta (Leo).
"Leo," Aria said, not looking up from braiding her damp hair. "Rember what I told you about snakes?"
Leo looked at Bella, then at Aria. He rembered Bella laughing when he tripped yesterday. He rembered her stealing his water on Day One.
"Sorry, Miss Bella," Leo said, clutching his coconut. "My tent is... full. Of bugs. You wouldn’t like it."
Bella’s face twisted. Rejected by the idiot. It was a new low.
Night fell quickly over the Cenote.
Aria retreated to her tent, the scent of strawberries lingering in the small space. She felt cleaner, lighter.
She pulled out the secure phone.
[Aria: Strawberry was a nice touch. I feel human again.]
The response ca instantly.
[The Wallet: You looked like a warrior on that cliff. Now you sll like my wife. I prefer the second one.]
Aria felt a blush heat her cheeks. The possessiveness in his text was palpable, even through a screen.
[Aria: How is the headache?]
[The Wallet: Non-existent. Watching Lucas try to build a shelter out of three sticks and a leaf is excellent therapy.]
Aria chuckled. She peeked out the sh window. Lucas was indeed sitting miserably under a large fern, slapping at mosquitoes.
[Aria: We’re halfway to the extraction point. What’s the endga for the show?]
[The Wallet: The final challenge is ’The Throne’. King of the Hill style. Winner takes the money. Loser takes the boat.]
[Aria: And the others?]
[The Wallet: They take the humiliation. Get so sleep, Mrs. Sinclair. Tomorrow, I release the jaguars. (Kidding. Maybe.)]
Aria turned off the phone, clutching it to her chest.
She closed her eyes, listening to the jungle. Sowhere out there, Lydia was plotting. Sowhere out there, a war older than herself was brewing.
But in here, she slled like strawberries, and for the first ti in a long ti, she wasn’t afraid of the dark.
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