Page 127 of The Bodyguard's Fall

We came to a dead end in the maze. On the other side of the straw, panicked shouts grew louder as the flames made their way toward them. An abandoned ladder leaned against the straw on the opposite side from us. Tate grabbed it and moved it to the side of the screams. Before he climbed the ladder, he looked down the short, empty pathway we’d just come from and back at me.

“They’re trapped on this side,” he said. “It sounds like it’s a group of kids. I’m going to climb over and help them up. Stay here and help them down to this side.”

I nodded, my gaze flicking back to the large orange fire growing closer in the pathway next to us, the flames heading directly for the children.

He checked the path once more before lifting his worried eyes to mine. “Don’t go anywhere!”

“Go!” I pushed him toward the ladder and watched as he arrived at the top, carefully picking it up and setting it on the other side. He spoke in a low, calming voice to the kids on the other side before climbing down out of my view.

There, in the momentary quiet, I attempted to settle my racing heart. I took several deep breaths. I was itching to do something and kept waiting for Tate to send over some kids for me to help down, but there was nothing yet. The whole scene felt...surreal. There was more shouting in the distance and another muffled intercom plea, this time by Ann, to exit the maze immediately. It was disconcerting to be alone in the dark after holding Tate’s hand for so long.

I felt him before I saw him.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew I wasn’t alone here any longer. Like a reluctant heroine in a horror movie, I turned slowly toward the pathway we’d just come from to see a scarecrow with a burlap mask standing in the middle of the pathway, looking back at me. My heart stuttered to a stop.

For a long, disconcerting moment, we stared at each other.

He wore a brown, patchy scarecrow hat with a bent and pointy top, bits of straw hanging down from the side of his head. Crude black stitches created a line for his mouth, and black patches around his eyes made for a terrifying picture.

He took a step toward me, and I attempted to gain my bearings.

This was it.

Fight or flight. This was my moment. He had somehow gotten me alone. I sucked in air, in through the nose and out through the mouth, focusing on keeping calm like Tate had taught me.

And then he took off his mask.

It was almost comical seeing the stark difference between what his costume looked like compared to what was underneath. He was smaller than I remembered, and somehow that was the most disappointing part. Over the past six months, I'd turned him into something larger than life—a towering shadow that haunted me wherever I went. It’s funny how fear works. But the moment you face it, you realize you were always bigger than it was. Without the mask, he looked less like a monster and more like the kind of guy who the IT department would send to reset your password.

And then he smiled.

The rage I’d been growing inside of me began to fester and burn. All those sleepless nights. All those times knowing I was being followed. All those times I felt somebody watching me. All those times I never felt safe leaving my apartment. Him invading my privacy, spying on me and making me feel so completely unsafe and unable to live my life.

And now he was here, ready to enact the final part of his plan.

How dare he.

He nodded to the side, where Tate had disappeared, before he whispered, “We have to go. He’ll be back any second.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I yelled, leaving no room for him to misinterpret my meaning.

He took a couple of steps toward me, confused. “But I’ve got everything planned. Just what you wanted.”

I shook my head, holding a hand out to ward off his advance. “I didn’t make any plans with you. This stops NOW.”

He shook his head, brow furrowed, and took another step. “No. We’re leaving. We have to go before he comes back.”

“Who are you? How do you keep finding me?”

He didn’t answer. We both were distracted by children’s heads appearing at the top of the straw where Tate had disappeared. Any minute now, he’d be back. I was about to scream for him when Leroy grabbed my arm.

“Hey!” I yelped, attempting to yank myself free from his grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. “Stop!”

“I’ve done all this work for us. You’ll be happy once we get there!” he growled, pulling my back against his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around my waist before lifting me off the ground, ready to drag me away.

But I’d done this dance before.

I scratched, kicked, screamed, and dug my heels into the ground. I connected to certain points with my elbows and used my body to twist and flail. Because Leroy was a scared little mouse compared to Tate Walker, he dropped me to the ground. I swiped hard at his legs with mine, watching with great satisfaction as he tumbled to the dirt. Tate was nowhere to be seen. But I had to stop waiting for him to save me. I scrambled back up to my feet at the same time Leroy stood, looking at me with utter betrayal in his eyes.