Page 161 of Outcast’s Vow

And I read it one more time, because I really can’t believe it.

Our brother Tremblay,

You have served us with loyalty and distinction.

Your strength has withstood every test we have placed in front of you.

You are the ideal Castaway.

And now, your time has come to step forward and accept the mantle of Elder.

A duty entrusted to you. Not as a reward, but as a sign of esteem.

We await your response.

Holy shit, they’re inviting me not just to be a member again, but to become an Elder.

A fucking Elder.

I laugh. A deep laugh.

Look how far I’ve come from sitting at a chessboard in Washington Square Park.

I should feel triumphant. It’s everything I ever fantasized about. My entire life. And yet my first thought goes to Sylvie, and what she might think of this.

As always, I won’t do anything without her.

This better mean this fucking labyrinth is over.

I stuff the letter into my pocket. I’ll deal with it, and its insane offer, later, and I turn to exit the room through the same door I entered, but something’s blocking me.

No, not something...

Someone.

A man’s standing there, in front of the door, right behind me. He’s practically leaning over me. And he’s wearing a mask. A mask that I’ve heard described so many times. Leather. Mouth stitched shut. Two dark eyeholes.

And I know who he is instantly.

The Masked Killer.

And before I have the chance to react, he lunges at me. His feet scuff the ground as he launches. There’s no space between us, so he reaches me in less than a heartbeat. In his hand is a knife that gleams in the darkness.

I don’t have time to think. I have only the time to fight back with everything I have.

64

BAPTISTE

As he leaps at me, his knife already cutting through the air, it’s clear the Masked Killer has the advantage. He has the surprise. The positioning. He has a weapon that can kill.

I immediately reach for the hand gripping his knife, forcing it away from stabbing me in the heart. I fall backward onto the table, trying desperately to push his body away from me. The wood strains loudly under my weight.

Sensing weakness, the Masked Killer doubles his efforts. The man is strong. Fast. Skilled.

He brings the knife up again, but I’m still blocking him. My other hand is scrambling at his leather mask, attempting to rip it from his face. My nails dig into the leather. I’m pulling with all my might. Even if it costs me my life, I’ll uncover the bastard.

But I can’t do it. I can’t see him.