I was sitting in my kitchen, eating cold leftover pasta, scrolling for something that wouldn’t bore me. The description hit me: a reality show escape room competition where a contestant was murdered on set. And her sister, the prime suspect, is back for season five. I put down my fork. That’s how I met The Escape Game by Marissa Meyer and Tamara Moss.
Here’s what got me: Sierra Angelos is either a cold-blooded killer or a falsely accused girl desperate for the truth. But the book doesn’t just ask “who did it?” It asks something harder. Can you solve a puzzle when you don’t know if the person beside you is the one who killed your sister?
The Reluctant Leader
Sierra walks onto that set carrying more than a duffel bag. She’s carrying the weight of every online forum that calls her a murderer. She’s tall, artsy, goth, and wears her isolation like armor. The other contestants treat her like she might snap at any moment. Honestly? I would’ve run. But she stays.
The core conflict is simple on the surface. Solve escape rooms. Win a million dollars. Find the real killer. But Meyer and Moss layer it with something more uncomfortable. Sierra has to trust people who are terrified of her. There’s Beck, the transgender game master who designs puzzles by seeing colors in his head. There’s Carter, the math prodigy who hides behind her online persona. There’s Adi, the cryptographer with secrets in his family. They’re all brilliant. They’re all hiding something.
I won’t reveal the ending. But I will say this: I guessed part of it. Not all of it. And the part I didn’t guess made me close the book and stare at my wall for a minute.
Trust as the Real Puzzle
The escape rooms in this book are elaborate. There are puzzles with light sensors, anagrams, hidden compartments. But the real puzzle is human. Every time Sierra reaches for someone, she hesitates. Every time a teammate offers help, she wonders if they’re setting her up.
The image that stuck with me wasn’t a locked door or a ticking clock. It was Sierra standing alone in the villa where her sister died, touching a wall where Alicia had written something. She’s not solving a code. She’s trying to feel her sister’s presence in a place that became a tomb.
Meyer and Moss use the game show format to mirror something universal. We’re all performing for someone. We’re all hiding our real selves. The characters on this show aren’t just competing for money. They’re competing to be seen as something other than what people assume they are. Sierra, the goth murderer. Beck, the trans kid who has to prove his intelligence twice as hard. Carter, the girl who crumbles under pressure despite her online fame.
What Works and What Doesn’t
The good: the pacing is relentless. Short chapters, constant reveals, no dead space. The puzzles are clever without being impossible to follow. I felt genuinely stressed during the timed challenges. The diverse cast feels organic, not like a checklist. Beck’s synesthesia isn’t a gimmick. It’s woven into how he sees the world.
The uncomfortable parts: some characters feel undercooked. Adi remains a bit too mysterious for too long. And the romance subplot between Carter and the host Fitz? It’s cute but it doesn’t earn its space. In a book this tight, every scene should serve the murder mystery or the team dynamics. The romance sometimes distracts.
The twist that got me: I won’t spoil it. But I will say that the killer’s motive made me rethink everything I assumed about the first chapter. That’s good craft.
Who Should Read This
If you liked The Inheritance Games or A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, you’ll like this. If you want a book where the characters are actively solving problems instead of just reacting, this is for you. It’s smart without being pretentious.
Who should skip it: if you need every character to be fully fleshed out by the end, you’ll feel frustrated. Some threads are clearly saved for the sequel. And if you hate unresolved romantic tension, prepare to sigh a little.
What I Took Away
This book won’t change your life. But it will make you feel slightly less alone in those moments when you’re surrounded by people and still wondering who you can trust. Sierra taught me something. Sometimes the puzzle isn’t the room you’re locked in. Sometimes the puzzle is letting someone hold the key.
