Page 161 of Stay Scared

“We do not,” Ash says.

He reaches for the scattered pages around the table.

I catch his forearm. “Leave those.”

His eyes move to the mess. Half his protocol is on the floor. Some pages are wrinkled beneath boot prints. Others are smeared with ink from my palms.

“They contain route notes.”

“Take the route notes.”

Ash looks at me.

“Leave everything about me.”

I hold his stare. He pulls three mechanical sheets from beneath the others and nothing more. That costs him, exactly as it should.

Cade moves toward the opening. “We have a route. Let’s use it before Rook fucks with something else.”

Owen has already folded the old map around the plotter output. Ash remains beside the table. His attention returns once to the pages carrying my name. I take the old Voice mask from my belt.

Ash looks at it. “What happens to that?”

I put it under my arm. “I haven’t decided.”

The answer bothers him. I can tell because his eyes stay on the mask while I walk toward the passage. He follows anyway. At the opening, I look back once. The stage is a mess. Pages cover the floor. The table has been shoved out of position. Ash’s careful protocol lies scattered wherever our bodies moved it. Nothing needs to be crossed out or given a better ending in ink. The room no longer looks the way he designed it. That is enough.

Owen checks the receiver. “Mark is still moving his hand.”

Cade looks toward the dark route. “Then quit staring at the room.”

Ash’s gaze leaves it.

I close my hand around the founder key. “Mirror maze.”

Ash steps past me and takes the first turn toward the service track. I catch the back of his shirt. He stops.

“You have the route. I still have the key.”

His eyes drop to my hand, then to the steel against my chest. Ash moves aside. I go first.

Chapter 20

Ash stands close enough to read the old mirror-maze plans over my shoulder.

The original Voice mask reshapes the room around me. Its narrow eye openings cut the table into a dark strip beneath the lantern, and the worn padding presses against my cheeks with the faint smell of leather, dust, and Ash.

I pull it off. Cool air reaches my face.

Ash watches me set the mask beside the old park drawings. “The mirror maze still has an observation gallery.”

His hand plants against the opposite side of the table. “Half of one remains.”

“Owen only needs the old wiring.”

“The camera was retired before the renovation.”

“So was Rook.”