Chapter Text

Episode One

We open to beautiful panoramic shots of a chateau somewhere in the south of France, rolling hills and the glittering Mediterranean far in the distance. We slowly push in on the chateau, where we see HARRIS DROVER standing on the front steps.

 

HARRIS

Welcome to the very first edition of The Traitors: MLH edition. I stand here on the steps of Chateau La Romaine, where, for now, everything is still peaceful and quiet. Soon, however, I will be joined by sixteen professional hockey players, all of whom will be playing for a prize pot of $100,000 to benefit the charity of their choice.

 

Cut to a steam train moving through the Occitania landscape. We see inside as Harris’s V.O. continues. With each mention of a player, we see a shot of them sitting in their seat, a blindfold covering their eyes.

 

HARRIS

Captain of the New York Admirals and legend of the game, Scott Hunter. Mythical goalie, Wyatt Hayes. Fresh-faced-but-no-longer-a-rookie Luca Haas. Gilbert Comeau. The recently-dubbed “Most Handsome Defenseman”, Matti Jalo. D-man and excellent barbecuer, Zane Boodram. In my opinion the most gorgeous hockey player ever, Troy Barrett. Boston’s star winger, Cliff Marleau. Life of the party, J.J. Boiziau. The man with the worst music taste known to man, Evan Dykstra. Patrice Drapeau. The MLH’s most sociable player, Carter Vaughn. Boston’s newest acquisition, Soren Miitka. The man with probably too many children, Hayden Pike. And last but certainly not least, the first husbands of hockey, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.

 

We cut back to HARRIS.

 

HARRIS

A bunch of hot hockey players sitting together with blindfolds on. Sounds like someone’s fantasy come to life. Not mine, of course.

 

HARRIS clears his throat.

 

HARRIS

They look relaxed for now, but before they even make their way to the chateau, they’ll have to complete their first mission. They’ll have the opportunity to bank their first $15,000, and… there might be some shields up for grabs.

Shane tried to breathe through his nerves. It had seemed like a fun idea to sign up for the very first MLH edition of The Traitors—a show that he, Ilya, Yuna and David had gotten really into—but now that he was sitting here somewhere in France, blindfold on as he felt the train tracks passing underneath them, he had to admit he was feeling at least a little bit apprehensive.

He had no idea who else was participating in the show, other than Ilya. They had been approached for the show together, which had luckily rendered the point of secrecy moot. He also knew Harris would be presenting the show, so that meant Shane had at least two friends on set, even though one of them wasn’t really supposed to interact with him that much. But Shane knew he had considerably less friends within the league since his relationship was outed. For the first time, he even had enemies—real ones this time, as opposed to a rivalry that was trumped up by the media.

Shane’s worst fear was confirmed as soon as they were allowed to take off their blindfolds. As everyone’s eyes adjusted to the light and they took in their fellow contestants, his gaze immediately landed on Drapeau and Comeau, sitting a few rows away. Comeau spotted Shane as well, and his eyes immediately narrowed.

To his relief, however, he spotted way more friendly faces. There was Ilya, of course, but there were also five other Ottawa Centaurs, all of whom he was sure had his back—when it came to homophobic assholes, anyway. Hayden and J.J. were there too, and they’d already run interference between Shane and the other Montreal Voyageurs, proving their allyship. Scott Hunter and Carter Vaughn were apparently also participating, and Shane considered them friends too.

Shane had apparently been sitting next to Evan Dykstra this entire time. Dykstra turned to him with a grin and enthusiastically clapped him on the back. “Yes then, Hollzy! I can’t believe you’re also playing! Man, this is gonna be so much fun.”

Before Shane could reply, a shadow fell over them. “Dykstra, you’re in my seat.”

Dykstra smirked knowingly, already getting up. “Yes, Cap.”

Dykstra was quickly replaced by Ilya, who, instead of sitting down like a normal person, dropped down into the seat with his whole body weight, jostling Shane. He wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulders, pulling him close, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“You good, moya lyubov?”

Shane gave Ilya a smile, one that was perhaps a little braver than he felt. “I’m good.”

“Good.” Ilya turned to the two hockey players that were sitting in front of them. Cliff Marleau and Matti Jalo had been watching their exchange with amused smiles on their faces. “Marly, good to see you again, my friend.”

Marleau grinned back at Ilya. “It’s been way too long, Roz.”

While Ilya and Marleau launched into a conversation reminiscing about their Boston days, Shane tapped Matti Jalo’s foot with his own. “What’s up, Jalo? How’s Maria?”

Jalo smiled bashfully. “She’s good. She’s been helping Kip and Kyle with some renovation plans for the Kingfisher, so things have been busy there. It’s almost like Scott, Eric and I have been turned into Kingfisher WAGs.”

Shane laughed. “I can only imagine.”

The train rolled on as all sixteen players caught up with each other. There was a lot of speculating happening about what could potentially be in store for them, but Shane knew that all speculation was useless at this point. The only thing that was sure was that this game was going to be unpredictable from start to finish.

Eventually, the train rolled to a stop in a quaint little train station that looked older than Canada’s first Constitution Act. A French conductor entered their compartment and instructed them all to depart the train.

Sixteen hockey players all lumbered off the train, onto the platform where Harris was waiting for them all. He was standing on an overturned apple box. Behind him, Shane could hear Troy snort out a laugh.

“Welcome, players,” Harris said, theatrically spreading his hands. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed catching up, because the real game is about to begin. I’m sure you’re all eager to see where you’ll be staying, but before you can make yourselves comfortable in the chateau, there is money to be made. In fact, a whopping $15,000 is up for grabs today.”

At Harris’s words, excited murmuring erupted all around Shane.

“And not only that,” Harris continued. “There will also be seven shields up for grabs. If you have a shield, it means you will be protected from murder tonight.”

Another wave of excited muttering.

“Before we start our mission, please pick two players who you think you can trust and are the most competent in a bind.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Wyatt said. “Hunter and Hollander.”

A derisive snort sounded somewhere behind Shane at the mention of his name, probably from either Drapeau or Comeau, but most of the men around him seemed to agree with Hazy.

Cut to WYATT HAYES’s confessional. He is sitting in a small room, the Traitors crest on flags on the wall behind him. The chair he is sitting on looks old, made of dark wood and lined with a deep red velvet fabric. WYATT shrugs into the camera.

 

WYATT

It’s true, though. I know there are some people who won’t agree, but who cares about them. The truth is that Scott Hunter and Shane Hollander are the golden boys of hockey and anyone who isn’t f****** homophobic knows it.

“Does everyone agree?”

A chorus of yeses sounded at Harris’s question, and Shane felt strangely flattered. Scott gave him a nod, and Shane nodded back, feeling a smile starting to tug at his lips.

“Very well,” Harris said. “Shane, Scott, you’re with me. The rest of you, please make your way to the waiting Land Rovers. They will take you to your next location.”

Ilya groaned loudly, and Shane fought a knowing grin.

“Oh, come on, Roz,” Marleau teased. “You’ll be reunited with your husband again soon.”

“Shut your idiot face, Marly, is not that,” Ilya grumbled. “I thought I was safe from boring Land Rovers now we are not home. But the universe is apparently my enemy. We’re in France! I would even take a stupid Peugeot over a Land Rover. A Citroën!”

Shane watched Ilya walk away with a fond smile on his face, even as trepidation for what was in store made his heartbeat accelerate.

Cut to SHANE’s confessional.

 

SHANE

I don’t get why Ilya hates my car so much. It’s reliable, you know? Good in the snow. Apparently that’s boring now.

 

Cut to CLIFF MARLEAU’s confessional. He is grinning into the camera.

 

MARLEAU

Roz and I kind of lost touch when he left the Boston Bears to go to Ottawa, but I’m glad to see that he hasn’t changed a bit. F***, I love that crazy f*****.

***

Ilya didn’t feel great about leaving Shane behind so early on in the game, but he felt comfortable about the fact that at least he wasn’t in a group with Drapeau or Comeau. Despite his clear faults, Ilya still trusted Scott implicitly. The most danger Shane would be in with Scott was being bored to death. Either that, or Scott keeling over from sheer old age.

Actually, come to think of it, it was probably for the best Shane wasn’t with the big group, because he would probably try to stop Ilya from what he planned to do.

Comeau and Drapeau needed to go. They clearly made Shane uncomfortable, and Ilya hadn’t forgotten how they’d treated his husband when they’d been accidentally outed. And if that alone wasn’t reason enough to get rid of them as quickly as possible (it was), they also just dragged the entire vibe down.

For as far as Ilya knew, none of the other players were homophobic. He wasn’t entirely sure of Miitka, though. Miitka had been on the Montreal Voyageurs until a few years ago, when he’d been traded to Boston. The trade had happened after Ilya’s time there, so he’d never been on the same team. He could probably check in with Marly, though.

He was sure he could get some other players on his side. Definitely the ones from his team, and he could probably also get the New York Admirals on board, especially with their captain in the game. Besides, no one was appointed a Traitor yet, so if he started campaigning now to get rid of the two Voyageurs, it hopefully wouldn’t look suspicious. This was still The Traitors, though, so every move he made against any player would be a risk. He just had to trust that the others would be like-minded.

As luck would have it, he was in a car with Hayden and Marleau (and some mysterious—presumably French—man who was driving them to their next location who so far had refused to answer their questions, whether they asked in English, French or Russian). Normally he wouldn’t have liked sharing a car with Pike, but he had to admit it worked out in his favor now. Hayden was still a Voyageur (the poor fucker), and Drapeau and Comeau might stick closer to him because of it.

“So, let’s talk about the cow in the room,” Ilya said.

Hayden snorted. “Do you mean the elephant in the room?”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Fine, elephant in the room. Comeau and Drapeau. They need to go.”

“Yeah, what’s their deal, man?” Marleau asked.

Before Ilya could answer, Hayden said, “They’re homophobic assholes who are sucking all the fun out of playing for the Voyageurs. They’re pissed at Shane for being gay and having been in a secret relationship with Rozanov.”

“Seriously?” Marleau asked, raising a brow. “Well, agreed then. They need to go.”

Ilya smiled, warmth blossoming in his chest at Marleau’s easy conviction. “Good. My plan is to talk to some others, try to convince them too. Make a pact with everyone that those two need to go first.”

Hayden nodded, clearly picking up what Ilya was putting down. Maybe Ilya should cut him some slack after all. “And you’re campaigning now, so that, unless one of them becomes a Traitor, either Drapeau or Comeau gets murdered first, and the other gets banished the next day. Smart. That is, if we can convince enough people to stick to that plan to make it statistically probable that there will be at least one of them turned into a Traitor.”

Then again, if he kept yapping so much that it always gave Ilya a headache as he tried to translate all the English, maybe not.

“Sounds like a plan,” Marleau said. “I’ll talk to Mitty.”

“Miitka is cool, then?” Ilya asked.

Marleau snorted. “He’s Swedish. They’re pretty much cool with anything.”

Cut to HAYDEN PIKE’s confessional.

 

HAYDEN

Rozanov and I might have some beef every now and then—I’ll certainly never call him my best friend, and not just because that spot is already taken by his husband—but I can appreciate the way he always sticks up for Shane. I hope, for Shane’s sake, that people can see that side of Rozanov, maybe understand their relationship a bit better.

 

HAYDEN pauses to think.

 

HAYDEN

Then again, he’s still Ilya f****** Rozanov, and he’ll probably still drive someone up the f****** wall. And it will probably be me.

Eventually the boring Land Rover they were in rolled to a stop in front of a staircase built into a high hill. The remaining contestants all got out of their respective cars, congregating at the foot of the stairs. A screen was set up next to it, blank for now. 

“Jesus Christ, did they find the actual staircase to heaven?” Vaughn asked, staring towards the top with clear trepidation in his eyes.

“How much do we wanna bet they’re gonna make us run up those stairs?” J.J. posited.

Bood groaned. “I avoid the StairMaster in the gym like the fucking plague, and now they want us running up these stairs? Nah, bro.”

The screen suddenly flickered to life, filling with Harris’s face.

Cut to HARRIS, standing in a room paneled with dark wood. He is smiling, and it almost looks like there is an evil twinkle in his eye. As he talks, footage of the stairs and reactions on the players’ faces is interjected.

 

HARRIS

Welcome to your first mission. I’m sure you’ve all seen the stairs you’re standing in front of. They’re pretty hard to miss, I dare say. I want you to divide into three groups. Fourteen isn’t divisible by three, meaning one team will have four members instead of five.

 

Cut to the contestants scrambling to form teams, ILYA, ZANE BOODRAM, LUCA HAAS and CARTER VAUGHN shushing them so they don’t miss any of the instructions.

 

HARRIS

Per team, there are five envelopes placed on the steps in regular intervals, starting relatively close to the bottom, ending all the way at the top. Two of those envelopes contain hints to a book that Shane and Scott have to find. Each team gets a phone they can use, preprogrammed with a number that can reach the seekers. Make sure you tell them to find the right book, because that will get you the combination to the lockboxes behind you.

 

Cut to everyone turning around as one, spotting three lockboxes with plexiglass doors, clearly showing the car keys locked inside.

 

HARRIS

With each correct book found, you bank an impressive $5000 for the prize pot. However, you only get the money if all of you get to Shane and Scott’s location in time, so you will have to work together, and hope and pray that both Shane and Scott are good at finding things.

 

Cut to ILYA’s confessional. He is grinning.

 

ILYA

My husband is the best at finding things. Is because he was in the closet so long.

 

Cut back to HARRIS.

 

HARRIS

So, to recap, two out of five envelopes contain hints. That leaves three. Two of the envelopes contain shields, meaning six shields are up for grabs, saving six of you from being murdered tonight. One of the envelopes will be empty. Each player can only grab one envelope, to be opened once you’re back down with your team—the main exception being the team of four, where one person will have to run twice. I will give you five minutes to create teams and build a strategy, and then you will have sixty minutes to complete your mission and make your way to Shane and Scott. Good luck.

Ilya ended up in the group of four, together with Luca, Troy and Matti Jalo. That was fine with him. He was meaning to talk to an Admiral anyway, and whether that was Jalo or Vaughny didn’t matter that much. He already knew both Luca and Troy would happily go along with his plan.

The four of them huddled together.

“Before we start and everyone’s still distracted,” Ilya started, voice low, “we need to discuss Comeau and Drapeau.”

“Agreed,” Troy said. His eyes were hard. “They need to fucking go, as soon as fucking possible.”

“Agreed,” Luca echoed. The only time he’d looked as fierce as he did now was the first time they played against Montreal after Shane joined the Centaurs, almost catching Ilya off guard. It was still a really nice feeling to have his team members be as protective of Shane as he was.

Ilya, Troy and Luca looked at Jalo, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Jalo held up his hands. “Hey, I have about as much patience for homophobes as you guys do. I say we get rid of them as quickly as possible too.”

Ilya nodded, a wicked gleam in his eyes. This was easier than he thought. “Good. I already talked about it with Pike and Marly, and the plan is to murder and banish Comeau and Drapeau first. If one of us becomes a Traitor, we murder one of them first, the other gets banished tomorrow. We can actually start playing the game after that.”

Troy nodded. “Sounds like a plan, Cap. I don’t think anyone else here actually likes Comeau and Drapeau, so it won’t even put anyone under suspicion if one of them is murdered. We just gotta hope they don’t both get shields.”

“Good,” Ilya said. “Spread the word. Now, we need to discuss the mission.”

“I’ll run twice,” Luca immediately offered.

“You sure?” Jalo asked. 

Luca shrugged. “I’m the youngest here. Seems only fair.”

“Okay, then you run the first two distances,” Ilya said. “I’ll run to the top. Troy, Jalo, you two can discuss if you do the third or the fourth distance.”

“I’ll do the fourth,” Troy said. “Jalo, you can do the third. What order should we do? Longest distance first?”

“I think Roz should start,” Luca said. “Then Troy, then I do the second distance, then Jalo the third to give me some time to recover, and then I end with the shortest distance.”

“It’s a plan.”

***

The car that Shane, Scott and Harris were in took them to a small library only a few minutes away from the train station. The lower level was pretty much empty, save for an armchair in the middle of the room and an ancient looking desk off to the side that held three old-fashioned rotary phones.

The upper level was a mezzanine that wrapped around the entire room, reachable by various spiral staircases. All the walls on the upper level were covered with bookcases.

Harris parked himself in the plush-looking armchair. Shane and Scott stood in front of the desk, hands clasped in front of their bodies as they awaited their instruction from Harris.

“Welcome, Shane and Scott, to the library. Do either of you like to read?”

Shane shrugged. “Kind of, but it’s mostly hockey related, honestly. Ilya makes fun of me for it all the time.”

“I used to read a lot of true crime and Kip’s tried to get me into some novels,” Scott said, “but lately I don’t have a lot of time to read, you know?” His eyes widened. “We don’t need a lot of literary knowledge for this mission, right?”

Harris snorted. “No, you’re good, don’t worry. The others are, as we speak, collecting hints for three books. Once they’ve worked out the book, they will call you on one of the rotary phones behind you. Your mission will be to find the correct book, and relay the code hidden in the book back to the team.”

That didn’t seem so hard. Shane did worry a bit about a group of fourteen hockey players and their ability to work out hints about a book, though, but if they couldn’t complete their mission, then at least it wouldn’t be his fault.

“But don’t think your part of the mission will be as easy as Drover apple pie,” Harris said, and he clapped his hands.

Immediately, dread settled in Shane’s stomach. Green lasers had come on, crisscrossing on the upper level.

“While searching, you must avoid the lasers. If one of you touches a laser, that takes $2500 out of the prize pot. Don’t worry, though, it’s not all doom and gloom. Somewhere hidden on the shelves is a shield, meaning at least one of you could be protected from murder tonight.”

***

Ilya stood at the foot of the stairs. The other teams had apparently devised the same tactic, to go all the way to the top first just to get it out of the way. Marleau stood on his right, oddly reminiscent of their Boston days, but Comeau stood on his left, ruining the fantasy.

On the screen, Harris was counting down.

“Your hour starts in three… two… one! Go!”

Ilya shot off towards the stairs with a growl. He’d be damned if he let Comeau beat him. He ran up the steps with only two goals in mind: get to the top, and do it before the other two could, but especially Comeau.

Cut to LUCA HAAS’s confessional. He’s staring into the camera with wide eyes.

 

LUCA

Roz’s speed was insane. I’ve never seen anything like it.

 

Cut to ZANE BOODRAM’s confessional. He leans back in his chair with a snort.

 

BOOD

Damn, man… I pity the motherf***** who’s ever crazy enough to pickpocket Roz.

When Ilya was about halfway up the stairs, he passed the second envelope. It was also when he really started feeling the buildup of lactic acid in his legs. He’d known the stairs were high before he’d started, but he had to admit he’d still somehow underestimated them.

The top of the stairs were marked with red flags blowing in the wind. He could see the Traitors crest on them, but he was still too far away to make out the details. Fuck, he still had so far to go.

Focus only on the next step, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Shane said in his head. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and you’ve got this. You’re Ilya fucking Rozanov. These stairs are nothing compared to the shit we’ve gone through.

Feeling bolstered, Ilya hit his second wind. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as he climbed step by step. In the distance, he could hear the other contestants yelling encouragement.

With a roar, Ilya finally reached the top step. He rested his hands on his knees for a moment, trying to get his heart rate down. He was also aware of Marleau almost reaching the fourth envelope, Comeau a few steps behind. He knew that technically this wasn’t a competition, but he had a reputation to uphold, you know? So he snatched up the envelope and started making his way down the stairs again. And if he swayed a little on his way down, no one had to know.

Ilya and Marleau passed each other halfway between the top and the fourth envelope. Ilya grinned at him.

“Come on, slowpoke! We got money to win!”

“Fuck off,” Marleau wheezed, more exhale than voice, making Ilya cackle with laughter.

When Ilya passed Comeau, however, he was hit with the very strong desire to push him down the stairs. He knew Shane wouldn’t approve, though, so he held back—barely.

When Ilya finally reached the bottom, he kind of felt like passing out, but he was held up by the other players clapping him on the back in congratulations. Ilya wordlessly passed the envelope to Troy, way too out of breath to speak.

Troy broke the seal on the envelope and took out a sheet of card stock. He frowned at what was written on it before flipping the card to show what it said. “Georgie,” Troy said. “I’d kind of hoped for a bit more of a detailed hint than that.”

Luca took the card and envelope from Troy. “We’ll brainstorm here. You go get us another envelope.”

“Right. Wish me luck!” Troy said, and he was up the stairs, running to the now highest envelope.

Bood approached them. “So, what’s your hint?” he asked. Then he elbowed Ilya and said in a low voice, “Troy told me about your plan. Consider all the Centaurs in.”

Ilya grinned in thanks, but he was still breathing too hard to really convey his gratitude in words.

“Our hint is Georgie,” Luca said. “I’m assuming that’s the name of a character, but it’s not a lot to go off yet.”

Bood nodded thoughtfully. “It doesn’t ring any bells for me, but maybe the next hint will help.”

Jalo grinned. “Shouldn’t you be on a different team?”

Bood shrugged. “We’re not competing against each other, so I think we should help each other figure out these hints. Harris never said we couldn’t.”

“That’s a good point, actually.” Jalo raised his voice. “Yo! Does anyone know what the hint Georgie could mean?”

All the remaining players huddled together. None of them seemed to know what the name could mean.

Dykstra frowned. “They’re really only giving us one-word hints? How the fuck are we ever gonna guess those books then?”

Before anyone could answer, Marleau reached the bottom of the stairs. He passed his envelope to Hazy before promptly collapsing and star-fishing in the grass.

Wyatt opened the envelope and read the hint. “It’s just a bunch of numbers. Two, four, six, zero, one.” He turned the card around and sure enough, there was a sequence of numbers. 24601.

Carter frowned. “Could it be the code for one of the locks? Surely not, right?”

Miitka ran to check. He shook his head. “No. Too long.”

“I’ll say it again,” Dykstra said. “How the fuck are we meant to figure these hints out?”

Comeau nearly crashed into the group as he almost lost his footing on the last few steps. He took in deep gulps of oxygen as he ripped his envelope open. Ilya crossed his fingers, hoping he had an empty envelope. Unfortunately, the universe was against him.

“Shield!” Comeau gasped out, triumphantly holding up the card.

“Fuck,” Ilya muttered. He was pretty sure he heard some other people around him do the same.

Cut to ILYA’s confessional. He doesn’t say anything. He is staring into the camera disdainfully.

 

Cut to GILBERT COMEAU’s confessional. He’s grinning and holding up a gold shield, swaying on a gold chain.

 

COMEAU

Take that, you f****** p******!

The next person back down was Troy. He’d had considerably less to run than Ilya, but he was still pretty out of breath. He handed his envelope to Ilya, who, apart from a lingering heaviness in his legs, had pretty much recovered.

Luca took off towards the stairs to collect the third envelope.

Ilya tore open Troy’s envelope. He grinned at the contents. “Barrett, you lucky fucker! You have a shield.”

“Oh, thank god,” Troy said, and he promptly joined Marleau in the grass.

“Guys, we have another hint!” Hayden yelled as he took the envelope from J.J. and Wyatt took off towards the stairs in his stead. “Lightning bolt! Anyone got any ideas?”

Cut to EVAN DYKSTRA’s confessional. He’s shaking his head, his jaw slack.

 

DYKSTRA

I think that whoever designed this mission severely overestimated hockey players’ reading habits.

 

While the other players launched into possible theories, Ilya kept a close eye on the stairs. Drapeau was almost downstairs again, and if he also had a shield, it would seriously throw a spanner in the works.

Drapeau sat down hard on the concrete, in the way of the others who still had to do the challenge, even though the grassy field that Marleau and Troy were star-fishing in was only a few feet away. He tore open his envelope, and Ilya held his breath.

“FUCK! It’s blank.”

Cut to ILYA’s confessional. He’s still not saying anything, but he grins wickedly to the camera. He drags his index finger in front of his throat.

Players started coming and going a little faster after that, the longest distances already completed. Still, Ilya was very aware of the time ticking away. So far, they hadn’t guessed a single book yet.

Luca came back first, also empty-handed. He didn’t seem too bothered, though, knowing he had another chance for either a shield or a hint. Jalo sprinted off to get the fourth envelope.

Next was Wyatt. His envelope was blank, too. He didn’t look too dejected either, but Ilya still clapped him on the back. “Better luck next time, Hazy. Nice speed, by the way.”

Wyatt grinned back, still breathing hard. “Thanks, Cap.”

The next one back down was Carter Vaughn. He had a shield in his envelope.

“Nice one, Vaughny!” Marleau said, pounding the Admiral on the shoulder with his fist.

Next back down was Jalo. His envelope contained the second hint. Luckily, it was actually a helpful one.

“Killer clown,” Jalo read aloud.

“The other hint was Georgie, right?” Troy asked. “Then it’s It by Stephen King. It has to be. I never read the book, but I saw the movies.”

“Does everyone agree that it’s It by Stephen King?” Ilya asked the entire group. “The hints are ‘Georgie’ and ‘killer clown’.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Wyatt said. “That one’s obvious.”

“Then someone get me a fucking phone,” Ilya said, holding out his hand and making grabby motions with it.

Luca dashed to the middle lockbox, grabbing the smartphone and handing it over to Ilya.

Ilya went to the contacts, finding only one number. He dialed.

***

Shane and Scott waited for an impossibly long time for the phones to ring. Shane was keenly aware of the time ticking away, and he kept wondering what the hell the rest of the players were up to.

When one of the phones finally rang, a little light on the middle one flashing red, Shane dashed towards it. He snatched up the horn, holding it to his ear.

“Shane speaking.”

“Hello there, moy lyubimyy,” a voice purred on the other end of the line.

“Rozanov! Stop flirting with your husband and tell him the book!” That one was much more faint, but he could still clearly make out that it was Troy.

“Fine…” Shane could practically hear Ilya rolling his eyes. “The book you want is It by Stephen King.”

“It by Stephen King, got it. Thanks, Ilya.”

“Good luck, sweetheart. Speak to you soon.”

Shane hung up and turned to Scott. “You heard that?”

“It by Stephen King, yup,” Scott said. “You take that side of the room, I’ll take this one.”

Scott headed left and Shane headed right. Shane climbed the spiral staircase, mindful of the lasers that started at the top.

He stepped over the first laser and ducked under another as he approached the first bookcase. Dread immediately coursed through his veins. The books seemed to fill the shelves completely at random. There was no organization system that Shane could see. The books weren’t sorted alphabetically, either by author or by title. They didn’t even seem to be grouped by genre, considering he saw a romance novel next to a book about computer coding.

He scanned the shelves carefully, hunting for Stephen King. He struck out in the first bookcase. To move to the second one, however, he had to contort his body in some interesting shapes, and he was glad he often practiced yoga.

He was wearing a baggy hoodie that made him paranoid, though. He was terrified of accidentally crossing one of the lasers with his hood and costing the team $2500. He found a spot by the balustrade that didn’t have any lasers and stripped out of his hoodie, leaving him in his white T-shirt.

“Harris, catch,” he said, and he threw the garment at the social-media-manager-turned-presenter.

“Well,” Harris said, looking slightly stunned. He got over his shock quickly, though, and he showed how well he already knew Shane after working with him for a year by carefully folding the hoodie and keeping it safe on his lap.

Feeling slightly less encumbered now, Shane went back to searching the shelves.

***

Ilya hung up, a smile on his face. It was the effect that Shane had always had on him, and he was so happy that he didn’t have to hide it anymore. And if his teammates looked at him with knowing smirks, that was fine with Ilya. And if Comeau and Drapeau sent him the stink eye, that was also fine. They wouldn’t know what real love looked like if it punched them in the face, and soon they’d be off the show anyway.

Ilya kept the phone in his hand, in case Shane called back with the code for their lockbox.

Hayden was down next, and he proudly brandished the card with a shield on it. Ilya rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling.

Next back was Miitka. His envelope contained another hint, but this time everyone was stumped. “‘A loaf of bread’?” he read. “The fuck?”

“What was the other hint?” Vaughny asked.

“It was those random numbers,” Marly said, showing his own card.

“So, random numbers and a loaf of bread. Are they being serious?”

Ilya had to agree. What the fuck were they supposed to do with that?

Luca joined them again, breathing hard. He didn’t even open his envelope, knowing only a shield was left.

“What’s going on?” Luca asked.

“We got a dud of a hint,” J.J. said. “A loaf of bread.”

Luca furrowed his brow. “And what was the other hint?”

Marleau showed his card again. 24601.

Recognition made Luca’s eyes light up. “That’s Les Misérables!”

“Haasy, respectfully, how the fuck did you come to that conclusion?” Troy asked.

“Those numbers, I’m pretty sure that’s Jean Valjean’s prisoner number. And he gets arrested for stealing a loaf of bread.”

“What the fuck kinda name is Jean Valjean?” someone mumbled.

Marleau shrugged, and he grabbed the phone from his team’s lockbox. “That’s good enough for me. Do you know the author? It might help them find it faster.”

“Uh… I know it’s French, which makes sense, I guess, considering we’re in France. Maybe Alexandre Dumas?” Luca said, thinking out loud. Before Marleau could press dial, though, Luca yelled, “No, wait! Dumas wrote The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. I’m pretty sure it’s Victor Hugo instead.”

Cut to LUCA HAAS’s confessional.

 

LUCA

The others might make fun of me for knowing this, but whatever. I’m European. Our schools actually encourage us to read. 

***

The phone rang just as Shane was ducking underneath a complicated set of lasers, dragging his outstretched leg on the floor like he was some kind of super spy. He froze, wondering what to do.

“Fuck,” he said, once he realized that his path down would take much too long.

“I got it!” Scott yelled, and Shane looked over to see Scott army-crawling towards the stairs before slithering down the first few steps like a snake. Once he could stand, Scott ran down the steps and towards the phone, snatching it up before the call cut out. “Hello?”

Shane tried to focus back on what he was doing, only half listening to Scott’s side of the conversation. His right quad was really starting to burn, and he needed to get out of this position, stat. He moved his left leg further forward before crouching even more and shifting his weight off his right leg. He breathed out a sigh of relief once he felt the blood flowing normally again in both legs.

“We’re looking for Les Misérables by Victor Hugo!” Scott shouted up at Shane. “Or maybe Alexandre Dumas, Marly wasn’t sure.”

“Got it!”

Shane couldn’t remember having seen that book in his search so far, so he continued as he was. Before he could focus back on his book search, however, he saw something that glinted gold tucked away in one of the shelves.

“Holy shit! I just found a shield!”

“Nice one, Hollzy!” Scott yelled as he ran back up the stairs. He gave Shane a grin and a thumbs up.

Shane tucked the shield safely into his jean pocket. He’d confer with Scott later about who would take it.

A few bookcases over, Shane struck gold again.

“I found It!”

“What’d you find?” Scott asked. Shane looked over at Scott and got an eyeful of jean-clad ass instead as Scott bent over a particularly tricky laser.

“It,” Shane repeated, and then he realized why Scott might be confused. “I mean the book, by Stephen King.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Duh.”

Shane snatched the book from the shelf and carefully made his way through the maze of lasers to get back to the phones downstairs.

***

Dykstra and Bood were the only ones who still had to make their way down the steps. They already knew Dykstra would have a shield in his envelope, but they were still waiting on the last hint from Bood. They were almost back down when the phone rang in Ilya’s hand.

He answered immediately, not even caring that there was probably a lovesick smile on his face. He put the phone on speaker. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Shane chuckled on the other side of the line, making Ilya’s chest feel all mushy. “This would’ve been very awkward if I’d been Scott.”

Ilya grinned. “Nah, Hunter only wishes.”

“I found It by Stephen King. The code inside is two, six, six, eight,” Shane said.

Luca immediately dashed off, turning the dials on the lock. The lock opened with a satisfying click. “Got them!” Luca shouted, triumphantly holding up the car keys.

“We got the keys,” Ilya told Shane. “Thanks sweetheart.”

Ilya was about to hang up, but then they were joined by a panting Zane Boodram. Bood tore open his envelope.

“Greek gods,” Bood said, showing his card.

“Wait a sec, Shane, I think we might have another book for you,” Ilya said quickly.

“What was the other hint?” Troy asked.

“Lightning bolt,” J.J. said, holding up his own card.

“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Wyatt shouted, and he started jumping up and down excitedly. “I know this one! It’s Percy Jackson! The Lightning Thief, to be precise, by Rick Riordan.”

“Fucking nerd,” Bood said affectionately.

Cut to WYATT’s confessional. He’s grinning, an excited gleam in his eyes.

 

WYATT

I grew up on those books, I love them so much. They helped me make peace with my ADHD when I was a little kid. My wife and I watch the show too now.

 

WYATT pauses, getting serious.

 

WYATT

F*** those movies, though.

“Did you hear that?” Ilya asked.

“Bood calling Hazy a nerd? Yes, I heard,” Shane joked. “The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan, got it. We’ll try to find it as quickly as we can, but there’s no fucking rhyme or reason to how these books are stacked. Scott did just find Les Misérables, though. The code is four, six, five, five.”

Carter dashed to their lockbox, entering the code. That one unlocked too.

“Fuckin’ beauty!” Carter said, holding up the car keys. “Thanks, Shane!”

“You’re welcome,” Shane replied, a laugh in his voice. “I’ll call back once we’ve found the last book.”

***

Shane dashed back up the stairs, on the hunt for their last book. He had no idea how much time they had left, but he knew they were cutting it close, and the others still had to get here after they’d freed the last set of keys.

When Shane had still been in the juniors, he’d had a teammate who was obsessed with the Percy Jackson and the Olympians books, so he felt relatively confident that he’d remember seeing the book if he’d come across it already, so he stuck to the shelves he hadn’t inspected yet.

His hunch proved to be correct when he spotted the book, poking out a little. His way there was completely blocked by lasers, though. He’d have to go back the way he came, go downstairs, and try it from the other direction. Either that, or he could vault over the balustrade, somehow make his way past the lasers while hanging from the balusters, and vault back onto the mezzanine. He almost would’ve done it, if he was sure the railing could hold his weight.

“Scott! I found the last book, but I can’t reach it. Do you think you can make your way over here?”

Scott stood up from where he’d been inspecting a bottom shelf. He looked to where Shane was, calculating the path he would have to take. “Yeah, I think I can. Hold on a sec.”

Scott slowly but surely made his way to Shane. He had to contort his body into some pretty strange shapes. If Ilya had been here, Shane knew he’d be making jokes about Scott needing to be careful so he wouldn’t break a hip.

Once Scott was close enough, Shane pointed out the book. “It’s that one, second shelf from the bottom. The book sticks out a little, you should be able to spot it easily.”

“Got it. You start making your way down and call the others.”

Shane carefully made his way back downstairs. So far they hadn’t touched any lasers, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Shane had just dialed Ilya’s number when Scott reached the book they needed.

***

The phone in Ilya’s hand rang again. “Hey, moya lyubov, did you find the last one?” Ilya said by way of answering.

“Yeah, the last code is four, three, eight, two,” his husband answered.

Ilya waited until the last team had successfully freed the last set of car keys before saying, “We got it. We’ll see you soon. Ya tebya lyublyu.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

They were  then ushered towards a new set of cars. Once Ilya spotted them, he ground to a halt, making Carter crash into him.

“No! Fuck no! What happened to the Land Rovers? I promise I’ll never complain about those cars again, just don’t make me drive in that.” He stared in horror at the three honest-to-god mini vans that were waiting for them.

“Come on, Roz,” Hayden said, nudging him forward. “You can complain about being made to look like a soccer mom later. For now there’s money to be made.”

Ilya leveled him with a glare. “If anyone’s the soccer mom here, it’s you, Pike.”

Cut to HAYDEN’s confessional. He’s chuckling to himself.

 

HAYDEN

Ilya Rozanov as a soccer mom, now that’ll be the day.

 

HAYDEN chuckles again, shaking his head.

 

HAYDEN

If he and Shane ever want children, Rozanov had better get used to the idea quick.

***

Waiting for the others to get to the library was pure agony. Shane had no idea how much time was left on the clock because Harris refused to tell them—something about keeping tensions high or whatever. Meanwhile, Shane was probably driving poor Scott completely crazy with how much he was pacing through the library.

Shane’s eye fell on the shield on the desk, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t yet discussed with Scott who would get it. Considering he was probably getting on Hunter’s last nerve, Shane scooped up the shield and held it out to the older player. “Do you want the shield? You can have it, if you want.”

Scott looked up in surprise. “What? No, man. You found it fair and square. Besides, you’ll want it in case any of your old teammates becomes a Traitor. Their homophobic asses wouldn’t like me either, but I have a feeling they’d come for you first.”

Shane felt oddly honored at Scott’s gesture, even though his words probably rang true. Still, Shane wouldn’t be Shane if he didn’t verify one more time. “You sure?”

“Yeah, man, I’m sure. You deserve it.”

“Well, thanks, Scott. I mean it,” Shane said, and he put the chain around his neck, the shield resting right next to his heart.

At last, the doors burst open, Ilya spilling into the room first. He practically launched himself at Shane, wrapping him in his arms. Shane felt a little more at ease with the familiar weight of his husband around him.

The other contestants joined them, grouping together in front of the desk and looking hopefully at Harris. Most of them looked like they ran here instead of driving over in the cars they’d so desperately tried to free the keys for.

“Did we make it in time?” Wyatt asked, bouncing on his heels with excess nervous energy.

“Welcome back, everyone,” Harris said, rising from his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Congratulations on correctly figuring out the hints for each book. I can now tell you…” He paused, letting the tension rise even more. “That there are a little over three minutes left on the clock. Congratulations! You’ve just managed to bank your first $15,000 for the prize pot!”

Loud cheers erupted all around the room. Ilya was so elated that he promptly pressed a hard kiss to Shane’s mouth, leaving him momentarily stunned.

They all piled into mini vans after that. Shane expected Ilya to grumble about their rides, but apparently he’d already gotten it out of his system.

They drove out of the small town they’d been in and through gorgeous vineyards until they reached the chateau. The chateau looked impressive on the outside, the front steps framed by beautifully decorated Corinthian columns. The building had three levels from what Shane could see, and there was a chapel built next to it. The chapel had a tall bell tower, and Shane suspected that’s where the Traitors would be convening under the cover of night.

The professional hockey players were set free to explore the chateau. There was a large professional kitchen, a dining room with plenty of space to seat them all, a room with a pool table and a dart board, a library, a fully stocked bar, multiple sitting rooms, and a gym that rivaled the one they had at the arena back home. And that was just the inside. Outside there was a large patio with a fire pit that reminded Shane a little bit of Bood’s backyard. There was also a massive pool, the crystal clear water blinking invitingly in the sun.

Shane didn’t miss the cameras that were mounted in every public space, making him feel observed. He’d known he’d constantly be around cameras before he even signed up, though, so he tried to push the feeling away.

Their luggage had already been dropped off in their respective rooms upstairs. Shane and Ilya weren’t allowed to room together, which made Shane a little sad, but he understood why everyone needed to be kept separate at night.

“If we ever renew our vows,” Shane told Ilya as they sat on the patio, looking out over the pool and the lush gardens, “we’re doing it here.”

Ilya grinned. “I will hold you to that.”

***

Cut to panoramic shots of the chateau. Dusk has fallen. Flags with the Traitors crest wave in the wind. An eerie rendition of The Sound of Silence plays as all sixteen players walk outside, heading to the Round Table inside the chapel. There’s a mix of excitement and apprehension in the group.

Shane sat at the Round Table, staring at his fellow contestants around him. The room was unusually quiet, considering it was filled with rambunctious hockey players. Realization seemed to have hit that the game was truly beginning.

Harris stood on a platform, one where Shane would assume the Banished would announce whether they had been a Faithful or a Traitor.  

“Good evening, players,” Harris said, a gravitas to his usually jovial voice. “Take a good look around, because this is the last time you’re able to fully trust your fellow contestants. Earlier today, I conducted a personal interview with each of you. And let me just say, some of you are absolutely bloodthirsty.”

Cut to a small room in the chateau, two armchairs facing each other, a table with a pile of gold bars separating them. HARRIS speaks to each contestant privately.

 

HARRIS

Would you want to be a traitor?

 

HAYDEN

No. I genuinely think I’d be terrible at it.

 

BOOD

Sure, why not? I think it’d be fun.

 

JALO

Honestly? No clue. You know that whole ‘inside of you are two wolves’ thing? One wolf wants to be a Traitor, the other wants to be a Faithful. I’ll leave it up to you.

 

TROY

I think I’d break up with you if you made me a Traitor. I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress.

 

ILYA

Yes. But maybe also not. People would suspect me immediately, no? I have a reputation.

 

SCOTT

Definitely not. I kept a huge secret for most of my life, and I’m done with that s***.

 

LUCA

Oh, god no.

 

CARTER

F*** yeah, I would! Normally I don’t condone murder, but murder that’s sanctioned and has no real consequences? Sign me up.

 

J.J.

Nah. I think it’d be more fun trying to snoop and see who’s acting sus, you know?

 

COMEAU

Yes, I do. I have no problem being ruthless. I’ll kill them all, no problem.

 

MIITKA

Yes, and no. On the one hand, it would be so cool. On the other, I just know I’d give myself away in two seconds flat.

 

WYATT

No, I think I’d be much better suited as a Faithful. And I’m a goalie, you know? We see things most other people don’t. We’re great at pattern recognition. Give me a few days, and I’ll suss out who the Traitors are, no problem.

 

MARLEAU

F*** yeah, I want to be a Traitor. Anyone who says they don’t is lying.

 

DRAPEAU

I had better be a Traitor.

 

SHANE

Want to is a strong word. I think I’d be pretty good at it, though. I mean, people still don’t know when my relationship with Ilya started, so we know I can keep a secret.

 

Cut to HARRIS eagerly leaning forward in his chair. It’s the first time he really loses his professional composure.

 

HARRIS

Yeah, when did your relationship start?

 

Cut to SHANE grinning.

 

SHANE

Make me a Traitor, and then when I win, I’ll tell you, deal?

 

Cut to DYKSTRA, who’s shrugging.

 

DYKSTRA

Honestly, I’m just here for the vibes, you know?

“In a moment, I’ll ask you all to close your eyes,” Harris continued. “I’ll walk around and appoint my Traitors. If you feel my hand on your shoulder, it means you are a Traitor. If you feel nothing, you are a Faithful. Keep your eyes firmly closed, your face down, until I say you may open your eyes again. We have people watching your every move, so no peeking.”

When Harris gave them the signal to close their eyes, Shane worked hard to keep his breathing level and his heart rate down. He might’ve talked a big game with Harris earlier, but now he was starting to doubt himself. If he was appointed a Traitor, would Shane really be sure he could hide the truth from everyone? And Ilya read him like a goddamn book, so how would be able to keep this from him?

As Harris walked circles around them, sometimes making his steps deliberately loud or lingering in a certain spot, Shane tried to rationalize that he hadn’t even been appointed a Traitor. It was much more likely—especially statistically—that he’d be a Faithful.

Of course, that’s when he felt Harris’s hand grasping his shoulder.

Fuck.

Shane was glad he’d already been focusing on his breathing, otherwise he was sure he would’ve given himself away immediately. Harris kept walking, giving Shane some time to come to terms with the fact that it was really official now. He was a Traitor.

“I have made my selection,” Harris said. “Faithfuls, keep your eyes closed. Traitors, open your eyes, and take a good look at your accomplices.”

Shane opened his eyes, blinking as his pupils adjusted to the light. He looked around the table, trying to see who else had their eyes open. He wasn’t religious, but at that point he prayed to any deity that could hear him neither Comeau or Drapeau were Traitors too.

To his relief, he saw Cliff Marleau and Carter Vaughn looking back at him. Carter winked, and Shane smiled a little as he winked back. He shared a wink with Marleau as well.

“Traitors, close your eyes again,” Harris instructed. He waited a few beats before he said, “All right, everyone, you can open your eyes now.”

Shane opened his eyes yet again. For the first time, he was grateful that lights tended to bother him more than most people. It meant him blinking against the light was genuine. He looked around the table, trying to spot any suspicious behaviors—not because he was trying to hunt for a Traitor, but because he was looking for things he could exploit to shift suspicion onto them. He hoped his penetrating gaze would read to the Faithfuls like he was one of them, also trying his best to spot the enemy. He looked closely at Marleau and Vaughny’s behavior too, not wanting to single them out.

It became a little harder once his gaze crossed Ilya’s. It was like his husband’s bright eyes penetrated right into his very soul. Ilya blinked, just once, and then his gaze moved on again.

Shane fought hard not to release a sigh of relief.

Hayden was gulping down his glass of water. Comeau was whispering something in Drapeau’s ear, and Shane hoped the others caught it too, that they might flag it as suspicious. Wyatt was sitting next to Shane, and his leg was bouncing up and down. It was something Hazy did a lot, but maybe Shane could make something bigger of it. Jalo was tugging on his ear, which looked like a nervous tic. Scott, however, was sitting eerily still, only his eyes moving as he watched everyone like a hawk.

“Let the games begin,” Harris said gleefully.

***

Shane was a Traitor. Ilya didn’t know how he knew, but he did, as sure as he knew that if he told Shane to get on his knees, his husband would follow the command immediately.

He also knew Marleau was a Traitor. He’d played professional hockey with that man for seven years. Marleau had also been his closest friend on the Boston team. He knew that man better than he probably wanted to, and he knew what Marleau looked like when he was lying—mainly when he tried to pretend to a former hookup that he could remember her when Ilya knew damn well that Marleau had been way too drunk to remember anything, let alone who he’d hooked up with.

He didn’t know who the third Traitor was—or maybe there were more than three, Harris had never said—but he was sure he’d figure it out eventually.

A large group of the players were standing in the bar now, where J.J. was mixing them all drinks—apparently he’d done a mixology class years ago to impress a girl. Ilya had to admit he made a mean cocktail, even if he didn’t fully trust J.J.—and not just because he might be a Traitor.

Shane stood next to Ilya, nursing a ginger ale. Predictably, Shane was going to stay away from alcohol during the week. Luckily most people knew his husband was boring, so the behavior wouldn’t be seen as suspicious.

They might technically be on different teams, but for as far as Ilya was concerned, he and Shane would always be a team together. He’d do whatever he could to steer suspicion away from Shane, keep him in the game for as long as he could.

Multiple conversations were happening at once, everyone already more than willing to cast suspicions onto each other.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Carter yelled, probably a little louder than he’d intended. Ilya had already seen Carter, Dykstra, Mitty and Jalo downing three shots each, and apparently the alcohol had reached Vaughny’s brain first. “Let’s forget for a second who looked suspicious, because honestly, all of you did. Who do we actually think could be a good Traitor?”

“Comeau and Drapeau,” Hayden said immediately. He was still on his first cocktail, but apparently the dad-of-four couldn’t handle his alcohol that well anymore—if he ever could. Pike was more boring than Shane ever had been. “They’ve already proven they can stab a teammate in the back. I wouldn’t put it past them to do it again.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “I mean other than them. We already know they’re going out first anyway.” He quickly glanced around. “Shit, they’re not here, are they?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they were playing pool, last I saw ‘em,” Jalo said. His hand was already creeping to the bottle of tequila to fill up his shot glass again.

“I think Hollzy could be a good Traitor,” Wyatt said. “That man is good at anything.”

Shane huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “I’m definitely not good at anything. You’ve never seen me try to scramble eggs before.”

Ilya grinned, dragging his knuckles over Shane’s freckles. “That’s okay, I love your rubbery eggs.”

“I agree that Hollander could be a good Traitor, though,” Jalo said. He was starting to slur his words together, which Ilya hoped worked in Shane’s favor.

Still, though, maybe Ilya should step in.

“Nah, Shane would be a terrible Traitor,” Ilya said. Ilya took hold of Shane’s face, squishing his cheeks and making his lips puff out like a fish. “Everyone look at this face. You really think he can lie?” Ilya yanked Shane’s face closer to him, making Shane stumble. Some of his ginger ale sloshed out of the can. “You think he can lie to me? Please.”

Shane rubbed his cheeks with a frown once his husband released him. “Thanks, I guess.”

Ilya, however, wasn’t done yet. “Also, Shane has no poker face. Watch this,” he said, and he switched to Russian so only Shane would be able to understand him. “Ne mogu dozhdat'sya, kogda eta igra zakonchitsya i my budem doma. Ya trakhnu tebya tak khorosho, tak sil'no, tak gluboko, chto ty budesh' chuvstvovat' eto yeshcho neskol'ko dney.”

SUBTITLES

I can’t wait until this game is over and we can go home. I’m going to f*** you so good, so hard, so deep, you’ll feel it for days.

It didn’t take long for Shane to get as red as a tomato. “Ilya!” he hissed. “This is going to be broadcast! They’re probably gonna put subtitles over what you just said!

Ilya grinned. “So? Let them hear what we do at home. Besides, don’t act like you don’t love it, moy eksgibitsionist.”

Almost impossibly, Shane got even redder, making Ilya cackle.

“See? No poker face. There’s a reason I call him moy pomidor.”

Cut to ILYA’s confessional. There is a grin on his face that can only be compared to that of the Cheshire Cat.

 

ILYA

I knew immediately that Shane is a Traitor. But he is my husband, yes? I have to help him, because if he is sent away first, I will have problems at home. Shane actually has pretty good poker face, just not about sex. But now people think he can’t lie and they know we have great sex. Win-win, no?

 

Cut to SHANE’s confessional. He is slumped in his chair, a hand covering his face.

 

SHANE

I’m going to kill him. And I don’t mean as a Traitor. I’m going to beat his ass in this game, and after I’ve won and we’re back home, I’m going to literally kill him.

 

Cut to HARRIS. He is standing in the Round Table room, his hands clasped, a grave, somewhat tired look on his face.

 

HARRIS

For legal reasons, Shane Hollander was joking. He’s not going to literally kill his husband.

“You actually make a valid point,” Wyatt said, raising his own cocktail in acquiescence.

“Actually, you could make a pretty good Traitor too, Cap,” Luca pointed out.

Ilya grinned. “Damn straight, I could. Sadly, I’m a boring Faithful. Marly’s totally a Traitor, though.”

Marleau promptly choked on his drink.

***

Cut to an exterior shot of the chateau. Night has now truly fallen. Three hooded figures are making their way to the chapel under the cover of night, only handheld lanterns to guide their way.

Cut to the three Traitors entering the bell tower. They take off their hoods at the same time.

For a second, it was completely quiet. Then Carter promptly burst out laughing, and Shane and Marleau quickly followed suit as the tension they’d been feeling since they felt Harris’s touch on their shoulder dissipated a bit.

“Cats and dogs, man!” Carter said, still laughing.

“That was fucking crazy,” Marleau said.

“Totally,” Shane agreed.

“Hollzy, man, I’m so glad you’re on our team,” Carter said. “You’re such a dark horse, they’re never really gonna expect you.”

“You sure?” Shane asked. “I got a little nervous with Hazy there for a second.”

“Nah, you’re good man,” Marleau said. “Roz deflected attention away from you really well. I mean, it’s fucked that he directed it to me instead, but you know.” He shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I’ll distract him,” Shane said. “I’ve got your back.”

Marleau grinned. “Speaking of your husband, that man adores the shit out of you, bro. He spent the whole day campaigning on your behalf to get rid of Comeau and Drapeau first.”

Shane’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. This was the first time he was hearing of it. He’d heard Carter say that they all knew Comeau and Drapeau would leave first, but he’d thought it was kind of a group consensus thing, not that it came directly from Ilya. “Really?”

“Yeah, man,” Vaughny said. “And we’re all pretty much aligned. None of us have any patience for homophobes. We all collectively agreed that, no matter who became a Traitor, either Comeau or Drapeau goes out first. The other gets banished tomorrow.”

Shane’s eyes misted a little. He still couldn’t quite believe the amount of support he was getting since being outed. He’d hoped to find that support from his old team, the one he’d been convinced he would retire with until a little over a year ago. Instead, he’d found it with the Ottawa Centaurs, a team that had felt like family before he’d even officially started training with them. Now, he was also getting support from members of the Boston Bears and the New York Admirals. Yes, this was just a game for television, but he knew he’d carry this feeling of hope with him long after the show was over.

Shane sniffed, just once. “Well, Comeau has a shield, so we can’t kill him.”

“That leaves Drapeau,” Marleau said. “Easiest murder ever.”