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“Doesn’t matter now,” Damiano says. “We’re in this. All three of us.”

I stare at them both, the reality of my situation sinking in. They’re right. Even if I could prove what happened, even if people believed me, there would be a trial. Publicity. My father’s name dragged through the mud. My medical history exposed, picked apart by lawyers trying to paint me as unstable, dangerous.

And that’s assuming we made it to trial. The look Damiano and Flint share suggests Viktor’s revenge would come long before any legal proceedings.

“What do we do?” I whisper.

Damiano and Flint exchange another long look, some silent communication passing between them.

“We could burn the body,” Flint suggests quietly. “Take it deep into the forest...”

“Too risky,” Damiano counters. “Fire would draw attention. And moving him off the property leaves a trail.”

Flint gestures helplessly at the body. “We can’t leave him here.”

“No.” Damiano’s gaze moves around the clearing, calculating. “But we don’t have to move him far.”

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. My mind is spiraling into a dark pit of despair. Jesus Christ, this can’t be happening.

“We bury him,” Damiano says finally. “Here in the maze. No one will find him.”

“How can you be so sure?” My question sounds strange in my own ears, too calm now.

“Because I know every inch of this place,” he says. “And I know which plants grow fastest over disturbed soil. Which ones hide the smell of decomposition.”

“If anyone asks,” Flint adds, “Liam Bastian got wasted and wandered off from the party. Who the hell knows where.”

“Why would you help me?” I ask, looking between them. “You don’t even know me.”

Flint’s smile is grim. “Let’s just say Liam Bastian won’t be missed. Not by us, anyway.” He scans my body. “And if he did to you what I think he did…”

“He tried... Only tried,” I correct.

Damiano stands, offering me his hand. “We need to get you cleaned up before anyone sees you like this. Then we’ll come back for him.”

I take his hand, but I don’t have the strength to stand quite yet. “I killed someone.”

“No,” Damiano says, his eyes meeting mine, steady and certain. “You survived someone who was trying to take what wasn’t his, and who would’ve killed you to keep it quiet. Big difference.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak again. I killed someone. No matter how they try to spin it, that’s the truth.

Chapter 8

Flint

One second you’re having hate-sex with your ex in a foggy maze, and the next you’re staring at a dead body and a blood-soaked girl who’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering. Life on this fucked-up island never gets boring.

“We need to move,” I say, trying to remain calm. Panic’s contagious, and right now, one panicking person is already one too many.

Damiano’s kneeling next to Briar, careful not to touch her. Smart. After what just happened, unexpected contact would send her spiraling.

“Can you walk?” he asks her.

She nods, but when she tries to stand, her legs fold beneath her. Instinctively, I reach out to catch her, but Damiano moves faster, slipping his arm around her waist.

“I’ve got you,” he says, gentler than I’ve everheard from him. It stirs something in my chest I don’t want to examine too closely.

Liam’s body sprawls on the gravel, blood still seeping from the wound in his neck, though the spurting has stopped. The stake glints in the dim light filtering through the fog. That’s evidence we can’t leave behind.