The blindfolds came off.
The escape room staff had handed out exactly two small flashlights before locking us inside the maze. The weak beams barely pierced the artificial fog pumping through the air vents.
Maren shrieked the moment the heavy metal door bolted shut.
"Luca, I'm scared," she squealed, shrinking directly into his chest. "You have to protect me."
Luca wrapped a thick arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his side. A low, indulgent chuckle rumbled in his throat.
"You are terrible at this," he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Who begged for the horror theme out in the lobby?"
"I don't care," Maren pouted, tapping his chest playfully. "If you don't guard me, we are so done."
They leaned into each other, their flirtation bouncing off the claustrophobic walls. Luca held one flashlight. Maren swung the other.
I trailed behind them, chasing the faint, erratic spillover of light on the scuffed floorboards. My ruined ankle throbbed with every step. The bandages felt tight and damp.
"Slow down," I said to his back. "My foot hurts."
Luca didn't break his stride. "Escape rooms have time limits, Elise."
"I am barely keeping up."
"You cannot always expect everyone to accommodate you," he snapped over his shoulder.
He aimed his light forward, illuminating a narrow, twisting corridor. I dragged my injured leg, forcing myself to ignore the sharp sting tearing at my flesh.
At a fork in the path, they stopped.
Maren shot him a conspiratorial glance. Luca met her gaze and nodded.
*Click.*
Both flashlight beams vanished instantly.
Heavy, suffocating blackness swallowed the corridor. The silence stretched, thick and terrifying.
"Luca?" I reached out. "Maren?"
My fingers swiped through empty, freezing air. The scuff of their sneakers faded quickly down the left tunnel. They were running.
They abandoned me in a pitch-black maze.
I pressed my palms against the damp plaster wall. I dragged my feet forward, blindly navigating the total darkness. My breathing turned shallow.
A mechanical roar shattered the silence.
An actor wearing a blood-soaked apron lunged from a hidden alcove. He shoved a revving prop chainsaw inches from my face and screamed.
"Ah!" My knees buckled.
I hit the floor hard. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and fast, choking my throat. Panic seized my chest. I scrambled backward, curling into a tight ball against the baseboards.
The actor dropped his weapon. He pulled off his grotesque mask, his eyes wide with alarm in the dim emergency lighting.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his terrifying persona entirely gone.
I sobbed, burying my face in my hands. Nothing stopped the tears.
He grabbed a walkie-talkie from his belt. "Code yellow in sector four. Bring the master keys. We have a guest down."
Ten minutes later, a staff member guided me through a steel fire door.
Blinding California sunlight stabbed my swollen eyes. I blinked against the harsh glare, wiping the wet streaks from my cheeks.
Luca and Maren lounged in the exit patio. Maren leaned against his shoulder, sipping an iced cola and scrolling through her phone.
She looked up. A cruel, bright smile split her face.
"Elise, you are such a coward!" Maren pointed at my tear-stained face, bursting into a fit of giggles. "You actually had to get escorted out by the staff?"
Luca’s brow creased. He stepped toward me, his expression hardening.
"Escorted out?" he demanded. "You could not figure out a simple path?"
I stared at him. "Why did you turn off the lights?"
"I am helping you desensitize," Luca said, his tone perfectly casual.
"Desensitize?"
"You do not know left from right. If I do not force you once, when will you learn to navigate?" He crossed his arms, looking down at me. "I refuse to be your bodyguard forever."
Maren pranced over, a sugary smile plastered on her lips.
"Don't be mad, Elise," she cooed. "We didn't leave you behind this time."
I turned away from them and limped toward the parking lot.
Maren shifted her weight. Her designer sneaker slid directly into my path.
My toe caught her heel. I crashed onto the concrete.
The scab on my ankle tore open completely. Fresh, bright blood spilled over my skin, pooling against the hot pavement. The pain radiated up my leg, blinding and absolute.
A camera flash exploded in my vision.
Maren shoved a GoPro directly into my face.
"Guys, look at this!" Maren laughed into the lens, her voice shrill and excited. "My spoiled aristocratic bestie got so scared in the escape room, her legs gave out! Tripping on flat ground! This vlog material is insane!"
She giggled wildly, the camera light flashing in rapid succession.
Luca stood two feet away. His gaze dropped to the blood running down my calf. His jaw clenched. He shifted his weight, but he did not move an inch to help me up.
"Don't film too long," Luca muttered to Maren. "She cares about her pride."
It felt like someone had packed my chest with crushed glass. Every breath shredded my lungs.
I scrambled upward, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. I lunged at the GoPro.
"Stop filming!" I yelled.
Maren yanked the camera back. The plastic casing slipped from her grip and clattered onto the concrete. The momentum threw her off balance. She stumbled backward, letting out a sharp gasp.
Luca’s expression morphed into pure panic.
He shoved me hard in the chest. I slammed against the brick wall.
He wrapped both arms around Maren, pulling her securely against his chest, shielding her from me.
"Elise! Are you crazy?" Luca shouted.
I clutched my bruised ribs, staring at the man I had loved for years.
"Maren was just joking with you!" He pointed at the scratched camera on the ground. "Did you have to smash her equipment?"
"She tripped me," I said, my voice eerily calm.
"Do you know how important this is to a full-time vlogger?" Luca bellowed, his voice echoing across the empty patio. "You think everyone is born with endless trust funds like you?"
I leaned against the rough bricks. The boy who once rode his bike for miles just to check my tires was entirely gone.
"The equipment is important," I whispered. "I am not."
Luca froze. The absolute deadness in my eyes seemed to strike him. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
I did not wait for his excuse. I turned my back on them both.
I dragged my bleeding leg across the asphalt, limping out of the lobby gates without looking back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with shaking hands.
A text message from my mother's attorney illuminated the cracked screen.
*"Miss Radcliffe, your flight to London is confirmed for tonight. However, Luca is currently at the estate gates, and he refuses to let the moving trucks leave."*
