Page 38 of They're Watching You

The maze is intricate, the walls formed of mythological creatures baring fangs and talons. My first attempt ends in one of the many heads of some beast, so I reroute, ignoring Donella’s frantic scribbling and the grating sounds of Gavin and Remington searching the sarcophagus.

A warm light hovers over me now, illuminating the card. One of the guys must’ve grabbed a lantern from the wall by Donella to aid my efforts.

Beside me, she lets out a growl and scrambles to find more light. Hand blazing, my pen tip winds past Medusa’s snakes, through the fires of Hades, and under a harpy’s wing. It lands on the peak of Mount Olympus, otherwise known as the finish line.

“Done!” I yell.

Donella flings her card to the floor. “You three cheated.”

“There weren’t any rules against helping or hindering fellow knights,” I say, turning to find Remington returning the lantern to its niche. “You should’ve made allies.” I stuff the card into my back pocket and hold out my hand, waiting as Donella, jaw clenched, digs through her shoulder-slung purse for her coin. She drops it into my palm and spins off, probably to tattle.

“Nothing in there?” I ask the guys, but they’re already motioning for me to follow them out the door.

The next section of vault is narrow, with a sunken ceiling and no lanterns. Suddenly, a thought hits me like a bolt of lightning: a door could be hidden along these walls and we would never know it. Still hurrying, I dust my fingertips along the rough stone, checking for any grooves or variations in the surface.

Polly’s cell is down in these catacombs, yet Annabelle is holding a game of hide-and-seek here. She must be pretty confident we’re not going to stumble upon the wrong prisoner. A horrible sensation wriggles through my veins.

Just how far do these catacombs go?

My fingers hit air again, and one of the guys takes hold of my wrist, tugging me around a pillar and into the next chamber. There are no lanterns inside. I move along the walls, not wanting to miss any sign that Polly or Jordan could be in this room.

A door slams, jolting me. “What was that?” I ask, my hands out in front of me, feeling for Gavin and Remington.

“I don’t know.” Remington’s voice. I activate my phone’s light and find the two of us alone in the chamber.

“Where’s Gavin?” I ask, whipping my phone around.

“Must’ve ditched us.”

I sigh. Typical Gavin. Just when I thought he was being so chivalrous.

I step past Remington, his cedar-barreled lemon scent punching through the dankness of the vault.

“Wait.” Remington’s hand moves to my shoulder, spinning me to face him. My phone drops at my side, and its light spills onto the floor. “I never got to tell you why I stayed in the society.”

His hand lingers on my shoulder, the only thing grounding me in this black void. “No, you didn’t.” The darkness, the scent, his close proximity—it all reminds me of that moment in the hidden liquor closet. The moment I wondered if Remington Cruz’s lips might meet mine.

“And you never told me why you stayed.”

“I didn’t.” But I want to. With everything in me. If only I could be certain he hasn’t made a deal with Annabelle. If word gets back to her that I’m doing anything other than playing her game, she could make good on her threat to hurt Polly.

If I tell Remington, though, maybe we can search for Polly together. I thought Gavin was on my side, but he ditched me.

Then again, what if Remington doesn’t believe me? It is only my word against Annabelle’s that the video proof of Polly even exists.

“You can trust me,” he says, his voice warm in the damp, frigid air. “How about we swap reasons?”

I consider this, letting his hand trail slowly down my arm. My ability to think clearly melts away as tingles course to my fingertips. I breathe in, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.Think, think, think. If he tells me whatever dirt the society has on him—whatever they’re covering up—it would be insurance. He wouldn’t be able to double-cross me.

His index finger draws a trail back up my bicep, and I shut my eyes, even though the only light in this room is shining on my feet. Somehow, this is easier in utter darkness. “Fine,” I say. “Tell me your reason, and I promise to tell you mine.”

He takes both of my hands in his now. “I believe you.” Though we’re technically far beneath the cathedral, within these antiquated stone walls our exchanged words feel like a vow.

“Over the summer,” he starts, “my girlfriend Jane and I broke up. It was completely amicable. We’d grown apart. But afterward, I noticed her hanging out with Annabelle.” I feel his body shift uneasily. “This past February, I found out she’d opted to study abroad in Switzerland for the remainder of the semester. I was happy for her, but when I texted her as much, she didn’t text me back. So I tried email, and same thing. No answer.”

My head spins. I’ve barely been breathing, afraid of missing even one of his words. I inhale, my hands unmoving in Remington’s.

“When I contacted Jane’s parents, they told me to stop worrying. That Jane had been emailing them from Switzerland, and I needed to let go, to let her live her life. So I did. But then a couple weeks ago, I discovered one of Jane’s handbags in with my banquet attire—one I must’ve missed when we broke up.” His fingers trace over my palms. “Inside, she had this.” He lets go of my hands, rustles through a pocket, and presses something cold into my palm.

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