Page 30 of Spooked
"It scared you."
"It shows everything I try to hide. Not just the scars, but the hope. The love. The way you make me feel human again instead of just a beast."
Tears fill my eyes. "That's exactly what I see when I look at you. Not a beast. Just Wolfe. The man I love."
He pulls me against him then, his arms wrapping around me tightly. "I love you. God, Ash, I love you so much it’s frightening."
"That’s okay," I murmur against his neck. "Love should be a little scary."
We hold each other on the front steps of Marsden Manor as the first drops of rain begin to fall.
"So," I say eventually, pulling back to look at him. "What do we do about the photos?"
Wolfe considers this, his hand stroking my hair. "We publish them. All of them."
"What? Even the unmasked one?"
"Especially that one." His smile is soft, real. "You said it yourself, some moments are too special to hide. And maybe it's time I stopped hiding, too."
I kiss him then, pouring everything I have into it.
When we finally break apart, he's smiling—and it’s more glorious than any photo.
EPILOGUE - WOLFE
ONE YEAR LATER
The screams echoing through Marsden Manor on Halloween night are music to my ears.
Well, most of them. The blood-curdling shriek from the Crimson Chamber sounds genuinely terrified, which means Howie's new pneumatic werewolf is doing its job a little too well.
"That's the third person tonight who's literally run out of that room," Ash observes from beside me, her camera capturing the chaos as visitors flee past us in delighted terror. "I think Howie outdid himself."
"He's going to be insufferable," I mutter, fighting a smile.
I stand in the main hallway of my haunted manor, watching my wife work her magic with a camera, occasionally greeting guests who recognize me as the infamous Beast of Marsden Manor.
My wife. The word still sends a thrill through me.
"Oh, perfect!" Ash exclaims, dropping to one knee to capture a group of teenagers posing with our life-sized Victorian mourners.
One of the kids notices me watching and nudges his friend. "Dude, that's him. The Beast."
I raise an eyebrow, letting the shadows play across my features. Tonight I'm wearing my mask—not to hide, but as part of the atmosphere. The half-mask has become less armor and more costume piece, something I can take on and off without the crushing weight of shame.
I lean closer the boys. “If you stare too long, your face will melt!" I rasp, ripping off my mask and laughing maniacally.
The teenagers scatter with horrified squeals, and Ash laughs, that bright sound that never fails to warm something deep in my chest.
“You're enjoying that way too much,” she accuses, standing and winding her arm through mine. “It’s kinda morbid.”
"Says the woman who made me pose with fake blood dripping from my hands for last month's marketing images.”
"That was art," she insists, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "And it got us three more bookings for private events."
She's not wrong. Since Ash's original feature in Thrill Seeker Magazine—complete with the unmasked photo—Marsden Manor has become the premier haunted attraction in the Northwest, surpassing our previous numbers by thousands. Next year's Halloween season already has a waiting list.
But more importantly, that photo changed everything for me.
