Page 165 of Stay Scared

Ash looks toward Owen. “That gives me nothing beneath the stage.”

Owen reaches into the camera case and pulls out a short mechanical buzzer with two leads. “I can tie this into the same physical switch. No network.”

Ash takes it. “You could have started with that.”

“You were busy objecting.”

“I am still objecting.”

“I noticed.”

Nobody gathers neatly around the table. Cade keeps moving between the false-exit route and me. Owen strips old insulation from the analog cable with a small blade. Ash tests the buzzer against the map, then checks the founder key beneath his shirt twice in less than a minute.

Nobody is calm, which feels considerably safer than pretending to be.

I reach for the old Voice mask.

Ash’s hand lands on it at the same time.

Our fingers collide against the black shell. Neither of us lets go. The straps stretch between our hands.

“You need the mask?” he asks.

“Rook wants what it represents.”

“He wants to destroy it.”

“He already destroyed one.”

Ash’s grip tightens. The old leather creaks.

I look at his hand, then at him. “He hit you in the face because he wanted everyone to see the man under it.”

“I remember.”

“I want him looking at the mask instead of the exits.”

Ash keeps his eyes on mine. His thumb drags once across the cracked edge near the strap.

“This one was mine before Crimson Night.”

His hand stays closed.

“Ash.”

His mouth tightens.

I pull.

The mask moves an inch toward me.

His fingers tighten once more before opening. The full weight settles into my palm.

Cade watches the exchange. “So that was painful.”

Ash turns on him. “Do you have something useful to contribute?”

“I’m bleeding through my shirt and still enjoying this.”