CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tears blurred my vision, and the searing pain in my hand felt like it was going to consume me. The flesh was completely gone, the rawness exposed to the open air as I fought back sobs that threatened to choke me. Every step was a battle, and if it weren't for Brody and Dion practically dragging me along, I'm not sure I would've kept moving. My mind was trapped in a loop, replaying Mel's screams and the sight of her dissolving before my eyes.

The walls around us shifted again, grinding like the very gears of hell. As we rounded another corner, we stumbled into another group—Jessica, or maybe Selene, I couldn't even tell.

They were with two others, but I barely paid them any attention. My focus was a fragmented mess, torn between the overwhelming pain and haunting echoes. The redhead, whoever she was, looked terrible. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough to ask what had happened to her. When she made a move toward me, as if to help, a visceral reaction gripped me. I recoiled, instinctively, violently, unable to trust anyone outside of the few who had been with me.

"Stay the fuck back," Dion growled, his voice sharp and edged with barely contained rage.

Brody's expression was just as fierce, his eyes narrowed to slits as he added, "Don't even think about coming near her."

She held up her hands in surrender, her voice shaky but sincere. "I had nothing to do with this... but I get it. I won't come any closer."

We didn't linger. We kept moving, the maze still twisting and turning around us like it was alive. I thought of Lana—she would've heard our screams, heard Mel's screams. A fresh wave of tears spilled down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop them. The grief was too much, too raw.

Another masked figure appeared as the floor piece beneath us flipped over. I swallowed down a cry of pure agony as my ruined hand hit the floor.

"Up you go," Dion, grabbed me and pulled me to feet, placing me behind him, away from the acidic sprinkler. My breath hitched in fear, but Brody moved faster. He took the figure down with brutal efficiency, his movements precise and fueled by the same anger that burned within me.

Without hesitation, he slung them beneath one of the acid sprays, the air filling with the stench of burning flesh once again.

We reached a chute—a vertical tunnel leading upwards, our only apparent escape. Without speaking, we silently agreed on the order. Dion went first, testing the rungs, making sure it was safe. Then it was my turn, Brody steadying me as I placed my hands on the cold metal ladder. I could barely feel the rungs beneath my fingers, the pain in my hand radiating up my arm with each movement.

I forced myself to climb, to keep going. Dion was above me, his voice occasionally drifting down with reassurances, while Brody was right behind me, his presence a comforting pressure at my back. The passage we entered was narrow and dark, a metal duct-like tunnel lined with dim, pulsing LED lights that barely provided enough illumination to see.

We had to crawl on our hands and knees, the metal cold and unyielding beneath us. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay and something else, something organic. Spiderwebs clung to every surface, sticking to my skin and hair as we moved. I could feel the tiny legs of spiders skittering across my hands, and my face, burrowing into my hair. My breath caught in my throat, panic bubbling up as the sensation became too much.

Sharp pain—like a needle—shot through my hand. I hissed in pain, feeling the telltale sign of a spider bite. I wanted to scream and get them off me, but all I could do was keep moving forward, one agonizing crawl at a time, enduring their tiny legs moving up and down my neck. The only thought that kept me going was that I had to get out of there. If not for me, then for Mel and what she'd given.

For Lana and Ky.

For the others who still needed me.

But with every inch forward, the darkness seemed to grow heavier, and I couldn't help but wonder if we'd ever find a way out of this twisted nightmare. The song's haunting melody played on, echoing through the confined space. My skin was slick with a cold sweat, the pain in my hand so intense I struggled not to vomit. I kept swiping at my face, desperate to clear away the sticky webs and the tiny spiders that got too close to my eyes and mouth.

We pushed through rubber flaps that felt like some cruel parody of a door, and then Dion suddenly stopped. His voice came back, tense and low, "Be very careful...and don't look down."

I edged forward behind him fearing the worst, my heart hammering in my chest as I saw the ladder. It was suspended high above a seemingly endless void, the sight below so strange and disorienting that it defied logic.

My stomach churned, a mix of fear and the lingering nausea from my hand and the stench of Mel's melting flesh. Dion moved first, cautiously stepping onto the ladder, each movement deliberate and slow. The ladder swayed slightly, making my breath catch in my throat. There was no other way across, so I forced myself to follow, one hand gripping the rung so tightly that it felt like my bones might crack. Every bar was a battle against my own trembling muscles and searing pain.

Brody was right behind me, his presence a steadying force as I carefully made my way across the ladder. I tried not to focus on what was below, a landscape that twisted and turned, making it impossible to trust what my eyes were seeing. The song continued to play, its notes crawling into my ears like a malicious whisper.

My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I inched forward, focusing on one rung at a time, refusing to let the fear consume me.

I couldn't stop. Stopping meant falling, and falling meant... I didn't want to think about that. We were halfway across when the ladder swayed more violently as if mocking our struggle. I tightened my grip, biting back a cry as the pain flared up my arm. I soothed myself with the fact that I could feel the metal beneath my hand, cold and unforgiving, as I pushed forward.

Dion reached the other side and moved off the ladder onto solid ground. I followed as quickly as I could, the relief almost overwhelming as he reached back and helped, my feet finally touching something stable and where we could stand upright again. He did the same for Brody. I nearly fell in my haste to get the fucking spiders off of me, but Brody's hand was there, steadying me as I stumbled.

"At least it wasn't roaches," Dion repeated to himself as he erratically brushed off his clothes.

Brody swore under his breath, shaking out his curly hair. I brought my hand up as I waited for them, promptly lowering it back down. I couldn't stomach the sight.

"Come on," Dion said softly, urging me forward.

As we moved through a tunnel, my thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. I couldn't stop thinking about Mel—how she had given her life away to save Dion, how she had mouthed that she loved me before she disintegrated right before my eyes. The memory replayed over and over, and I couldn't make it stop.

Dion and Brody were practically holding me up, their arms steadying me as I stumbled along, half-blind with tears.

I still couldn't look at my hand—the flesh was gone, eaten away, and I knew if I looked, I would break.

So I kept my eyes ahead, trying to focus on something, anything else. "There were other ladders," I managed to say, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I was trying to hold back. "Higher up. The others might have crossed those, or will."

But what if they didn't? What if Ky didn't? The thought was like a knife to the chest. The image of him with that blade sticking out of his side flashed through my mind, and I nearly lost it. Ky was always so strong, so invincible, but now… Now he was hurt and I wasn't there to help him. The thought tore at me and made it hard to breathe.

"Come on," Dion said softly, his voice gentle as he urged me forward again. I could hear the pain in his voice too, the grief he was trying so hard to hide.

We stepped down from the tunnel, and both Dion and Brody helped me, their hands careful, almost tender. I was too numb to notice much else, too lost in my own head. Jessica and her group had emerged behind us at some point, but I barely registered them. All I could think about was Ky, and Lana, and the fact that I had no idea if they were okay, or if they were even alive.

"Is that a pool?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as we stepped into a new section of this hellish place.

Brody looked around, his face grim. "Yeah… they've put more effort into it than we ever imagined."

"What about the building behind the museum? Is this the place?" I asked, needing answers, needing something to make sense.

"This is definitely not it," Brody replied, but he still wasn't telling me everything.

There was something in his voice, something he wasn't saying, and it only made the knot in my stomach tighten.

Dion stayed silent; his eyes haunted but focused. He was just as lost as I was, but he was keeping it together for us. For me. We descended a small set of stairs, the atmosphere shifting again.

The walls and ceiling were bathed in a sickly green light, and the tiles beneath our feet were too clean, too pristine for a place like this. The skylights above were blacked out, casting everything in an eerie, unnatural shadow. Ahead of us was a single door, the only way forward. It seemed out of place, almost too ordinary in this twisted nightmare.

"This was a subway station," Jessica said from behind us, her voice strange, almost wistful. It made me want to get as far away from her as possible.

She was trailing behind with two others, and even though I knew I should be paying attention to them, I couldn't bring myself to care. To our right, I saw a grated platform, the kind where tracks might have been once. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking right into another trap, but what choice did we have?

Without hesitation, Brody moved forward and opened the door, stepping through first. As we stepped onto the landing, Dion trailed off, his voice barely a whisper, "What the..."

The drastic change in atmosphere was like a slap to the face, and unnerving. The air was thick with the scent of dust and something else—something metallic, perhaps, mixed with a faint, acrid odor. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the hum of machinery, a low, constant vibration that reverberated through the walls.

"We can't go down there," one of the men with Jessica muttered, his voice trembling as he backed away, eyes wide with fear. The redhead whirled on him, her hand fisting in his shirt as she dragged him close, her voice a sharp hiss. "Cut the shit. We were just stuck in that damn room for nearly two days. If you want a chance of making it out of here, you keep moving."

Dion, Brody, and I exchanged a look, our silent agreement clear. They weren't our concern or our problem. Wordlessly, we started down the stairs. At the bottom, the passage narrowed to a suffocating degree, forcing us to squeeze through. My shoulder brushed against the cold stone walls, the rough texture scraping against my skin as we pushed forward. I rolled my lips and sucked in a deep breath when it pressed against my hand, fighting the urge to throw up from the pain.

I desperately wished for Helios to come back to me right then. It would take all the hurt away, mental and physical. The corridor led to a set of double doors. With a deep breath, I pushed them open, and we stepped into a square room. Chains hung from the ceiling, their ends capped with rounded metal shackles, swaying slightly as if recently disturbed. A giant, altered metal fan loomed overhead, its blades still and ominous, and on one wall, a large screen was lit up, displaying blank blocks like some twisted version of Jeopardy.

Another set of doors stood at the far end of the room, and as they swung open, I felt my breath catch in my throat. The others entered, soaking wet but together, and a wave of relief washed over me. It was short-lived, though. Lana's eyes met mine as she moved past Ciaran. Words died on my lips. I couldn't say it—couldn't tell her our Mel was gone.

With one look, Lana knew, and I knew. The way her eyes gave away what her expression didn't, I realized I hadn't just lost one of my best friends—I'd lost both.

But this was Lana.

Even with her eyes brimming with tears and the truth of our loss confirmed, she gingerly hugged me, and I clung to her as if she were the only thing anchoring me to reality. I knew she needed the comfort as much as I did.

Maverick remained off to the side, Carol and Hayven on either side of him trying to be comforting. He was doing his best to hold it together. His usually steady hands were trembling ever so slightly, and though he tried to keep his face composed, the cracks in his resolve were becoming more evident with each passing second.

No one said a word.

The silence was thick, almost choking, until I sensed Ky's approach.

I instinctively drew back from Lana, but I couldn't let her go completely. I turned to Ky, the smell of blood hitting me instantly. He was still bleeding. Lana's gentle hand on my arm guided me toward him before she stepped back, her own grief mirrored in her eyes. Ky didn't hesitate. He took one look at my hand, and then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with guilt. As if any of this was his fault.

But there was no time to grieve, no time to linger. Within those few minutes, the screen on the wall changed, and iron bars slid across both sets of doors, sealing us in. The voice from before crackled to life, the same twisted cheerfulness in its tone.

" Now that was a twist the crowd did not expect. You should be ecstatic with the views you've all brought in. So, let's keep this going with a classic game of hangman ."

I tensed, feeling Ky's grip on me tighten as the words sank in. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing as the voice continued.

" Attached to the ceiling are four solid chains. Four volunteers must participate—hands-on. Pick your four and have them get ready, but among those four must be one main player. Move quick, you have..." The voice paused, letting the tension build, "...five minutes ."

The speaker went dead, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. I looked up, dread pooling in my stomach as the altered fan overhead began to spin slowly, its blades whirring to life. The chains hanging from the ceiling clinked together with the movement.

Ciaran's voice sliced through the room, cold and unyielding. "We don't have time to wait. We need to choose. Now."

Panic fluttered in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe, to focus.

"We need to pick four people, but…what does she mean by main player?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

"One of us," Ciaran answered, his eyes locked onto Lana. She hadn't said a word since entering the room.

Brody was the first to step forward, his jaw set in grim determination. "I'll do it," he said, not waiting for anyone to respond. He moved toward the chains, his steps steady and sure. Jessica followed without a word. Something was unsettling about how quickly she stepped up, but I couldn't help but respect her for it.

As the clock ticked down, the air grew thick with tension. No one else moved, fear and uncertainty freezing them in place. Ciaran lacked the patience to care about their feelings, and I agreed with the sentiment.

He seized a man by the back of the neck, dragging him over to the third chain. The man's eyes were wide with terror, but Ciaran's grip was unyielding.

"We need a fourth," Ciaran ground out, his eyes scanning the room.

"Use Juno," Ky said suddenly. His eyes were focused and cold, giving no room for argument.

Ciaran's brother nodded and moved swiftly toward a girl with dark hair. She looked shocked, but she didn't resist as he led her to the final chain. Meanwhile, Ky held me close, his hand gently stroking my hair in a soothing motion. As I looked up at him, all I could see was the blood soaking through his black shirt, spreading like a dark, ominous stain. His face was composed, but the sight of him like this made my heart clench painfully.

"This is nothing, Sunshine," he said quietly, trying to reassure me.

I could see the strain in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw as he forced a smile.

"No," I choked out, shaking my head. "You're hurt, Ky. I can clearly see it."

He kept stroking my hair, his touch both comforting and heartbreaking. "I'm fine," he insisted, though I could hear the lie in his words.

Lana moved toward Brody with a shuttered look in her eyes, her hands trembling as she reached for what I had initially thought were shackles but now saw were collars—cold, metal, and soon to be deadly. The realization made my stomach twist further into knots.

"Don't plan on dying with this on," Lana murmured, forcing a brittle smile as she locked the collar around Brody's neck.

Brody gave her a sad, resigned smile, his eyes heavy with the weight of the situation. "That's why I have you guys."

The others were less cooperative. One man thrashed wildly, panic overtaking him. Ciaran punched him square in the face. The sickening crack echoed, blood spurting from his nose. The man slumped enough for Charon to move over and clamp the collar around his neck. There was a moment of silence, a brief, suffocating pause before the screen flickered to life. A new timer appeared—ten minutes.

A single, ominous question was scrawled across the screen:

"Who is the...?"

The words seemed to echo in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull as the chains connected to the collars straightened, lifting the four off the ground just enough that their toes barely scraped the floor.

"We need sixteen letters," Dion said, his voice urgent, his mind already working to solve the riddle.

He looked like he was barely holding it together, eyes darting between the screen and those hanging by chains.

"We have four chances to get it right," Ky added, his voice a steadying force.

I could feel the tremor in him, the strain he tried so hard to hide, and held him tighter. No one wanted to speak, the fear of being the one to make a fatal mistake pressing down on us all like a vise.

"A," Ciaran finally said, his voice cold and detached, cutting through the silence.

The letter spun onto the screen, and we all exhaled—a small victory.

"B," Lana called out, her voice cracking as the letter appeared, the first in the final word. The chains tightened, pulling the four higher, their bodies straining to keep from dangling.

"G," the man with a bushy beard next to Jessica shouted, his voice shaking with terror.

A red X appeared and immediately, his chain retracted faster than the others, the fan overhead descending with a menacing hum, the blades slicing through the air.

"Shit, try vowels first!" Dion suggested, his frustration boiling over.

"E," I called out, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Two E's appeared on the screen, but it did little to soothe the growing dread.

"F," someone said, their voice barely audible, and another red X blazed on the screen. All four chains retracted further, lifting them off the ground as the fan descended even lower. The breeze from the spinning blades sent a chill through the room, lifting my hair and tightening the grip of fear around my heart.

"What dumb fuck said that?" Dion yelled, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I said vowels!"

"I," Charon called, his voice flat.

A single I appeared on the screen, but the reprieve was fleeting.

"Wait!" Dion called, "I think--."

"G," someone called out, interrupting him.

The air left my lungs as another red X appeared, and the chains retracted so violently that the man beside Jessica was yanked upward, his head colliding with the fan blades in a sickening thud. It was severed from his body, hitting the wall with a grotesque splat before bouncing onto the floor.

"Goddamnit!" Lana exclaimed, barely dodging out of the head's path where it landed.

The sight, the sound—my stomach twisted violently, and bile surged up my throat. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, and Ky's grip tightened. "Breathe through it, Sunshine."

"Who is the betrayer?" Dion shouted, the desperation in his voice echoing in the silence that followed. The fan, as if answering his call, abruptly stopped, leaving only the sickening sight of blood splattered across the room.

Confetti suddenly exploded across the screen, an absurd celebration. The chains slackened, and the tension in the room shifted, though the horror still lingered like a dark cloud.

"I almost pissed myself," Brody muttered, his attempt at humor breaking the ice, if only for a moment. Hayven and Lana circled around and helped get the collar off of him.

Ky chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a cough. I felt the subtle shift as he leaned slightly more on me, trying to keep his weight off. Panic flared in my chest, my eyes flying to Charon's.

He was already moving with a speed that belied the fear in his eyes—the first time I'd ever seen him look so shaken. Maverick was right behind him.

"You're alright," he murmured to his brother as if his words would make it true.

Maverick moved up beside him, making sure he didn't invade the space between the two of us. Lana came to my other side, concern etched into every line of her face. She reached out and looped her arm through mine, squeezing it tightly as if she could somehow anchor me.

The screen flickered again, the confetti vanishing as it cut to a new scene—a video. At first, the clips were disjointed, like a broken film reel struggling to play. It was us, all of us, the night of Troy Saint's party. My blood ran cold as I realized someone had recorded us, using a cellphone. We weren't supposed to have been there—I remembered that much.

Seeing it then, the distanced footage, the secretive angles, it was like watching ghosts of our past come back to haunt us. Nothing about the Gracelynn on the screen seemed like me. And Mel..

She was right there, alive and well.

The next clip made my heart stop. It was Mel again. Lana's breath caught beside me, a sharp intake of air that I felt more than heard. She was alone, in a small, dark room, her wrists bound tightly together. The look on her face—resignation—was a knife in my gut.

The clips changed again, and this time, it was me. I was passed out, limp like a rag doll in a similar room. A chain was wrapped around my ankle, and someone was there, forcing something down my throat. The voice was soft, almost soothing, whispering words I couldn't make out. But the face—it was unmistakable.

Carol.

Lana was squeezing my arm so tightly, her breathing growing raspier, I looked over to make sure she was still with me.

And then, the final clip began, the screen cutting to black before fading in on a new scene. My blood froze in my veins as I saw Lana. She was strapped to a chair, her body slumped forward, blood trickling from a wound I couldn't see due to her hair being in the way. Her head was lowered, something metallic attached to it, wires leading off-screen.

I could barely breathe as a man stepped into the frame, roughly tilting her head back. He pushed her hair away from her face, and I saw her try to protest, her lips moving weakly. The man ignored her, his hand steady as he placed a gag back in her mouth, silencing her feeble attempts to resist. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces as the man turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch his face.

It was Ciaran.

The cold detached look on his face as he bound Lana's mouth was a twisted reflection of the man we thought we knew. And with that final, horrific image burned into my mind, the screen went black.