Page 160 of Outcast’s Vow

“We’ll see if that lasts,” I reply, confidence beginning to warm my veins. “Let’s give it time.”

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do that. I’m happy to do whatever it takes.”

And then Father turns and leaves through the door behind him. But before he completely disappears, he points at the other door.

“That’s the way out,” he says, “in case you wanted to know.”

“Thanks. You know I can’t stand these Castaways challenges.”

“Baptiste is a good man, Sylvie,” Father says quietly, like the words cost him. “A really good man. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner. I’m... happy for you.”

His voice breaks on happy. Even a master manipulator like him can’t fake that.

It’s real.

He backs out and shuts the door.

Alone again, I wipe a tear from my cheek and take a moment for myself.

I sigh in relief. Despite my anger, I’m still glad I could talk to my father. I’m glad he was the one to break the ice between us. I square my shoulders...

And I head to the door he pointed at. I’ve had enough for one day. I want to get out of here. I want my husband.

I just hope he hasn’t found his own trouble.

63

BAPTISTE

I’ve lost Sylvie.

I want to get out. I’m not playing their games.

Fuck this.

Exasperated, I walk down the tunnel until I reach the door Sylvie and I first spotted when we stepped inside the labyrinth, before we were so rudely split. I squeeze it open. A circular room awaits me. All stone walls around a central wooden table. There’s nothing else in here.

It’s small. And very, very suspicious.

This room isn’t an accident or a coincidence. I’ve been made to find this space.

I spot something placed in the middle of the table. I slowly step up to it.

A letter. Addressed to me in embellished handwriting with a giant crimson seal. My name.

A sigh escapes my lips at the sight of it, and the theatrics of it all.

Typical fucking Castaways.

I tear open the mysterious letter with no regard for the careful way it’s been presented. I just want to see my fucking wife. With no energy left in me, I quickly scan the handwriting contained within.

But the words make me stop.

I focus.

No.

And then I read it again. Just to be sure.