Page 24

“I need to clean up, too.” I gesture to the bloodstains on my arms and clothes. “Give me two minutes.”

I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so I can hear if she needs anything. The mirror confirms what I already knew. I’m a mess. Blood has dried on my forearms and neck, and my shirt is ruined. I strip it off and use a washcloth to quickly scrub away the evidence, watching pink-tinged water swirl down the drain.

When I return, Briar has sipped about half her tea. Some color has returned to her face as the warmth and whiskey hit her system.

“Better?” I settle across from her.

She nods. “Better.”

We sit in silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound. The silence should be awkward, but somehow it’s not. Maybe because we’ve both seen too much tonight for small talk to matter.

“You have a nice place,” she says, looking around. “It’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect? A cardboard box under a bridge?”

She winces. “I didn’t mean?—”

“I’m messing with you,” I say, softening my tone. “Most people are surprised. They hear ‘shipping container on the cliffs’ and picture something a lot worse.”

“I like it,” she says. “It feels... real.”

I look around, seeing my space through her eyes. The salvaged furniture. The collected bits of beach glass and driftwood arranged on shelves. The guitar in the corner I’m still teaching myself to play. The sketches tacked to the walls—my attempts at capturing the island’s coastline.

“It’s home,” I say.

She pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. The shivering has subsided, but she still looks like she might shatter if touched.

“My clothes,” she says suddenly. “Where are they?”

“In the bathroom still?”

“You’re right. We need to burn them,” she says. “And I need to check my phone. And what about security cameras? Does the maze have cameras?”

“Whoa, slow down.” I hold up a hand. “One thing at a time. Your clothes—yes, we’ll burn them. The phone—it’s probably best to leave it off for now. Cameras—not in the maze itself, I’d bet, but maybe at the entrance. Damiano will know.”

She takes a deep breath, then another. “Right. Yes. Damiano will know.”

The way she says his name catches my attention.Like she’s already placing a certain level of trust in him. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“He’ll be here soon,” I assure her, though I have no idea how long it will take him to clear the party and deal with Liam’s body. “In the meantime, try to rest. You’re safe here.”

She looks at me—really looks at me for the first time since we arrived. “Have you lived on the island your whole life?”

“Born and raised,” I say. “Eastside kid. Where the non-rich people live.”

“But you don’t live there now.”

“No. I got out. Sort of.” I take a sip of my tea. “Found this place, fixed it up. It’s far enough out that I don’t have to deal with anyone unless I want to.”

“And The Vault? You work there?”

“Head bartender.” I can’t help the hint of pride that creeps into my voice. “Started as a bouncer, worked my way up.”

She nods, processing this. “And you and Damiano...”

Here we go. “What about us?”

“You have history.”