Page 59 of Only Be Mine

No answer.

“John,” I said again, sharper now. “Don’t-don’t leave me like this.”

My fingers curled into fists, half wanting to rip the blindfold off and half refusing to ruin whatever he’d planned. My heart was hammering in my ribs like it wanted out.

Then I heard his footsteps.

I knew them. The rhythm, the weight. I could smell him too, that familiar mix of cedar and clean cotton and him, carried to me on the night air like a tether.

His hand slid into mine again and I clung to it like it was the only thing that was real.

“Almost there,” he murmured. “I promise.”

“Stop saying that like you’re not about to sacrifice me to a cult,” I muttered, but my voice was shaky.

He laughed quietly. “Hey.”

He stopped just long enough to press his forehead to mine, the warmth of him cutting through the cold.

“I won’t let you fall,” he said softly.

My breath caught.

Then he guided me forward again.

We moved over something uneven - rocks maybe - then through a doorway of sorts. Fabric brushed my cheek, then my hair, like we were walking through hanging curtains. The air warmed suddenly. We were inside

And my stomach sank.

I knew that warmth.

I knew that smell.

I knew that…

John stopped, and I bumped into his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” I asked, dread creeping in.

He inhaled like he was steadying himself. “We’re here,” he said. “You can take it off.”

I hesitated. My fingers went to the blindfold, then paused.

My instincts were screaming at me to run, and I didn’t even know what I was running from yet.

I took a breath, slid the blindfold up and off, and kept my eyes closed for a beat longer than necessary.

Then I opened them.

My heart sank so fast I swear I felt it crash into my stomach.

I knew it.

I knew it from the second we stepped inside.

The hallway. The dim lighting. The fake fog that clung to the air. The sound effects - distant screaming, chains, the low hum of manufactured fear.

John had brought me to a haunted house.