Page 166 of Stay Scared

“Then enjoy it silently.”

I fit the mask against my face.

The leather is colder now. The padding drags across my skin when I pull the strap behind my head. My breathing rebounds against the sealed mouth until every inhale sounds too loud.

The eye openings narrow the room.

Cade’s shoulders pull tight. Owen looks up from the camera.

Ash holds my stare.

I look back at him through his own face. “What?”

His throat works. “Nothing relevant.”

“Very convincing, Ash.”

His stare sharpens.

I leave the mask on.

The room feels tighter inside it. Every breath carries the stale warmth of old padding. The strap presses against the back of my skull, and the edge near my cheek has gone rough with age.

Ash built a face meant to keep people from reading him.

It is miserable to breathe in.

That feels appropriate.

Owen closes the camera case. “We should move.”

Cade gathers the maintenance rope. The coil hangs from his injured hand.

I look at the blood beginning to darken the side of his shirt. “You can still work the barrier?”

His eyes flash. “Try stopping me.”

“I asked whether your arm works.”

“Yeah, it works.” The answer comes out rough. “I can do it.”

Ash touches the key beneath his shirt. “Private stop still stands.”

I turn toward him. “It never stopped standing.”

His eyes stay fixed on the mask.

Nobody adds anything else.

We leave.

The attraction beyond Ash’s room has disappeared into blackout. Owen leads with the utility light low against his thigh. Its beam catches old concrete, torn wiring, and dust thick enough to soften our footsteps.

Cade stays close behind me. When the corridor narrows, his arm comes up instinctively beside my shoulder.

His hand stops before touching me.

I feel its heat anyway.