Page 75 of The Dead Don’t Scream
“The rules say I receive a real chance to walk away.”
“Yes.”
“You still intend to give me one?”
“No.”
Rhys’s gaze hardens. I force myself to correct the answer.
“Yes.”
Sloane lifts her head.
“That looked painful.”
“You have no idea.”
She traces the gold ribbon.
“Good.”
Dante wraps the blanket around all four of us.
“You enjoy torturing him.”
“I’m discovering several new hobbies.”
Rhys gathers the discarded masks and places them in a black wooden box. The Reaper. The Devil. The Scarecrow. Gone until the next hunt. If there is a next hunt. The chapel bells begin to move in the early-morning wind. Sloane rests her cheek over my heart.
“Take me to the gate.”
Every part of me revolts. Still, I sit up with her in my arms. Because she asked. Because obsession without choice is only a cage. Because if Sloane stays, it must be for the men beneath the masks—not the fantasy that brought her here. I carry her toward the chapel doors. Rhys walks beside us. Dante follows with her dress and boots. The gray promise of dawn waits beyond the maze. For the first time in my life, I am afraid of sunrise.
Chapter
Six
BEFORE SUNRISE
CALLUM
The maze feels different with Sloane in my arms. Smaller. Temporary. Every path I built eventually leads to the gate, but tonight I hate each turn that brings us closer. Sloane rests her cheek against my chest. The blanket wraps around her body, and her white dress lies folded in Dante’s arms behind us. Rhys carries the wooden box containing our masks.
The Reaper. The Devil. The Scarecrow. Three monsters locked away before sunrise. Gray light bleeds across the horizon. It touches the tops of the cornstalks first, turning their dead leaves silver.
“Put me down,” Sloane says.
I continue walking. Her head lifts.
“Callum.”
“No.”
The word escapes before I can stop it. Rhys’s footsteps slow behind me. Dante says nothing. Sloane looks toward the gate visible at the end of the path.
“You promised.”
My arms tighten.
