Snooker? Yeah, right. This was just Harris’s excuse to keep me locked up like a glorified hostage while he worked his angle to push Caleb into winning.

It was obvious—I wasn’t getting out of here until after the game.

Fine. If I was stuck here, I might as well make it worth my while.

Honestly, I’d already calmed down after the whole phone-smashing thing. That little outburst? Just for show.

Harris had been spying on me, messing with my phone to track every ...