Page 76 of Stay Scared

Owen’s fingers leave the keyboard.

Ash looks between them. “Define it.”

“A dormant vendor profile,” Owen says. “It appears in renovation logs older than our current network. I classified it as inherited contractor data.”

Rook gives a low laugh. “Inherited. That is generous.”

The emergency board refreshes.

ORIGINAL OPERATOR RECOGNIZED.

A second line appears beneath it.

VENDOR ACCESS: VANTA SYSTEMS.

I look between the words and Rook’s mask. VANTA is not another intruder. It is him. An identity old enough to belong to the first version of this place.

Ash moves closer to the screen. “VANTA Systems was never a legitimate company.”

“It was legitimate enough to get through the doors.”

Old architectural drawings replace Rook’s image. Restraint rooms connect to observation booths through narrow staff passages. Mechanical routes branch beneath guest corridors and rejoin near backstage access. This is not the Crimson Night I entered tonight. The lines are older. Rougher. Built beneath everything that came later. Two signatures remain in the lower corner.

ROOK.

ASHER LANGSTON.

I look at Ash.

“You built the first version with him.”

Rook answers for him.

“We built it together.”

There it is. Rook did not break into somebody else’s house. Part of the house was his before Cade, Owen, or I ever entered it. The plans enlarge around a room labeled COMPRESSION CHAMBER.

“Ash wanted atmosphere,” Rook says. “Stories. Anticipation. He wanted fear to arrive slowly enough that people mistook it for desire. I handled the less poetic problem.”

Ash steps toward the monitors.

“You disabled medical stops after inspection.”

“I removed the parts that kept interrupting the experience.”

A second diagram replaces the first. An early ceiling harness hangs across the screen with restraint cuffs built directly into the frame. Cade plants one blood-streaked hand on the console.

“What the hell did he control?”

Ash keeps his attention on the screen. “Restraints. Pursuit systems. Stunts. Physical effects.”

“The parts they remembered,” Rook says.

“The parts that nearly killed someone,” Ash answers.

The sentence pulls the injured participant back into place. Not another secret. The reason Rook was removed. The theater returns to the monitors. Mark has stopped fighting the restraints, but his head remains upright and his eyes stay fixed on something outside the camera frame.

I point toward him. “Is this live?”