The Challenge: Fire & Fate

03

By the time the vans reach the compound, the sunset has turned the whole mountain copper. The Challenge house rises out of the valley like something between a luxury resort and a prison. Huge glass windows, infinity pool, neon-lit bar, security cameras everywhere.

Everyone races to claim beds like it's Black Friday at IKEA.

Kam and I drop our bags in the corner room that overlooks the pool. I sink onto the mattress, exhausted, mud still in my hair.

Kam laughs. "You did good out there, rookie. Fire in the pit, grace on the beam, sarcasm level elite."

I grin. "Sarcasm is my cardio."

🎥 Confessional — Kam
"Sienna's the rookie everyone's gonna underestimate. She's funny, sweet, calm—but there's steel under there. You can tell she's the kind who'll smile while she beats you."

The smell of dinner pulls everyone toward the kitchen. A few people are poking at boxed pasta. I can't watch it happen.

"Please step aside before someone calls the Food Crimes Unit," I say, tying my hair up. Within ten minutes, there's garlic sizzling, butter melting, and laughter filling the air.

Cory peeks over my shoulder. "Chef Vale in the house! You sure you didn't come from Top Chef instead of Love Island?"

"Chemistry degree," I say, stirring the pan. "Cooking's just edible science."

By the time the food's done, half the house is crowded around the counter. For five whole minutes, nobody's talking strategy—just eating.

🎥 Confessional — Tori (Team Fire)
"Who knew the teacher could cook? She made pasta that almost made me forget we lost today. Almost."

Later, the music starts. Someone found the bar; someone else found the confetti cannons. The first Challenge house party is officially underway.

I'm outside on the deck when Jackson walks in, still damp-haired from a shower, beer in hand, charm switched to maximum brightness. He works the room like he's done it a hundred times—probably has.

Our eyes meet for half a second. He smirks, lifts his drink in a mock toast, and turns away to talk to Laurel.

Fine by me.

Except my stomach does that annoying flip that has nothing to do with strategy.

🎥 Confessional — Jackson (Team Water)
"Look, Sienna's good. I'll admit it. She's smart, she's calm, and she didn't flinch out there—which is rare for a rookie. But she's also got that 'I'm here to prove something' energy, and that's dangerous."

He smirks slightly.
"I respect her hustle. I just... don't plan on letting her outshine me while she's doing it."

Inside, whispers have already started: who's aligning with who, who's voting where. Devin's talking game with Bananas; Kam's whispering with Leroy; CT's quietly listening to everyone.

I try to stay out of it. First night politics are like first-date promises—no one means half of what they say.

Still, when I pass the strategy table, I hear my name.

"She's smart," Laurel says. "Too smart for a rookie."

"Maybe she's lucky," Jackson replies.

I stop just long enough to smile at them both.
"Luck's just what people say when they can't admit someone's better," I say lightly. "But hey, if calling it luck helps your ego, go for it. I won't think any less of you for needing the excuse."

Laurel snorts into her drink, nearly spilling it.

Jackson blinks, then grins slowly. "Cute. You always talk this much, or am I just a special case?"

"Definitely special," I say, walking away. "But not in the way you think."

Laurel bursts out laughing, full-on wheezing. "Rookie's got claws!"

Laurel's laugh follows me down the hall.

🎥 Confessional — Laurel (Team Water)
"I like her. She's got real confidence, not the fake reality-TV kind. Jackson tried to do the whole smooth-guy routine, and she clapped him so fast his ego's still buffering. Instant fan."

The night winds down around two a.m. Some people are swimming, others are passed out fully clothed. I'm cleaning dishes because apparently I have domestic instincts even in chaos.

Jackson walks past, pausing at the counter. "You know there are production assistants for that, right?"

"I like things clean," I say. "Makes me feel human."

He leans on the counter beside me. "So what's your deal, Teach? You here to make friends or headlines?"

"Neither," I reply, stacking plates. "I'm here to win."

He chuckles. "Then I guess we're competitors."

I glance up at him, deliberately calm. "No, Jackson. We're opponents. There's a difference."

The air between us hums again—charged, sharp. He opens his mouth to fire back, but Kam yells for me from the hallway.

"Saved by the bell," I say, drying my hands.

"Careful, Vale," he calls after me. "That attitude might get you burned."

Without looking back, I shoot, "Then maybe you should stop playing with matches."

🎥 Confessional — Sienna
"Jackson thinks this is his show. It's adorable, really. He's the guy who starts the fire. I'm the one who figures out how to contain it."