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“Yellow isn’t too far. Yellow means slow down.”

“You listened?”

His head snaps toward me.

“Of course I fucking listened.”

I hold his gaze. He can play the fool, but I know what lives beneath the performance. Dante would tear the maze apart before deliberately violating one of Sloane’s boundaries.

“What did she request?”

“Slower contact. No space.” His attention shifts toward the extinguished candles. “And a kiss.”

“You refused?”

“It didn’t feel like part of the game.”

That answer concerns me more than anything else he could have said. Dante entered the maze expecting sex. He found Sloane. There is a difference.

“How is she?”

“Beautiful.” His voice lowers. “Brave. Funny. Too trusting.”

“She trusts the rules.”

“She trusts us.”

From somewhere near the chapel, Sloane screams. Dante’s body tightens. I grip his shoulder before he can move. We listen. A second sound follows. Laughter. Sloane’s. Dante relaxes by a fraction.

“Callum hasn’t caught her yet,” I say.

“He doesn’t need to.”

No. He doesn’t. The path Sloane follows has only one destination. We watch candlelight appear beyond the maze. The chapel doors open. Sloane crosses the threshold. They slam behind her. Dante holds up his red ribbon.

“One left.”

I take my black ribbon from my pocket and wind it around my hand.

“He won’t remove it.”

“How do you know?”

Because Callum doesn’t want to complete the hunt. He wants to change its rules.

“He invited her,” I say. “He built the chapel for her. That ribbon is the only thing separating the fantasy from whatever he believes comes afterward.”

Dante’s painted grin faces me.

“And what do you think comes afterward?”

I watch candlelight flicker behind the chapel’s stained glass. Sloane’s silhouette appears. A much larger shadow moves behind her.

“Sunrise.”

Dante laughs quietly.

“You’re a terrible liar, Reaper.”