Chapter 3

The air in the warehouse still smelled of stale beer, sawdust, and the sweet, cloying scent of artificial fog. It was the next evening, the crowd having thinned to a manageable stream of Halloween revelers, but the tension in my chest remained thick, suffocating. We were still at the event location, that sprawling, converted industrial complex that had been transformed into a labyrinth of terror. The lights were dimmer now, casting long, jagged shadows against the brick walls, and the distant thump of bass-heavy music vibrated through the soles of my feet. I should have left. I should have run back to my car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and driven away until the city limits blurred into the night. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Not while he was standing there, watching me with those dark, predatory eyes that seemed to strip away the layers of my composure one by one. He had been standing near the entrance of the main maze, that twisted, claustrophobic corridor where actors would jump out to snatch at your ankles. He looked effortless in his element, his jacket slung over one shoulder, a glass of something amber in his hand. When I turned