15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Kayla
The moment we step inside the escape room lobby, I know we’ve made a mistake.
Not because I don’t want to do this—I do—but because I’m trapped in a room with seven grown men who, combined, have the attention span of a toddler on a sugar high.
The guy behind the desk gives us a wicked grin. “Welcome to Amnesia. Your mission? Escape before your memories are lost forever.”
Trey immediately crosses his arms. “That sounds freaky as shit.”
Sam smirks. “Sorry man, who are you?”
“Bite me.”
We’re handed white doctor coveralls to put over our clothes, and I stifle a laugh watching the guys struggle into them. Trey gets his stuck on his head, Clay’s arms are in the wrong sleeves, and Logan—God love him—just shrugs into his like he was born to wear it.
And he still looks good.
When I’m adjusting my own, Logan steps behind me, brushing my hair over one shoulder. “You’re cute when you concentrate.” His lips graze my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
I elbow him lightly. “Focus, rockstar.”
“Oi, you two! We ain’t playing doctor and nurses—this shit’s serious,” Trey announces, looking entirely unserious with a head mirror strapped to his forehead.
Where the hell did he even find that?
“Gotta have it at an angle so I keep looking cool, right?” He tilts his head, striking a ridiculous pose.
Chace smirks and prods him. “I wonder if the last person who wore that died.”
Trey freezes. “FUCK OFF WITH THE GHOST SHIT!” He rips the headgear off like it’s suddenly cursed.
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “Aww, I thought you looked cool, Trey.”
He pauses, torn between ego and paranoia. Then, with a dark mutter under his breath, he shoves it back on, angling it just right.
Logan grins, shaking his head. His electric-blue gaze flicks to me, heated, amused. And just like that, the room, the puzzle, everything else disappears for a second.
Yeah. We’re definitely not winning this game.
Once we’re all suited up, the staff lead us into a dimly lit hospital-themed room, complete with flickering lights, old medical charts, and a countdown clock above the door.
Sixty minutes.
The game is on.
Chace grabs the first thing he sees, which is an old, leather-bound notebook. “I think this is a clue.”
Sam rips open a drawer, finding a stethoscope. “Or this.”
Trey sighs. “Or maybe, just maybe, we should read the instructions first?”
Logan leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching us with pure amusement.
“If we die in here, it’s your fault,” I tell him.
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
We start searching the room, and its chaos.
Dean finds a cabinet full of glass vials.
Clay pulls a fake skeleton out of a closet and scares the hell out of Trey, who screams and nearly takes Chace down with him.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to decipher a riddle when Logan steps behind me again, his hands sliding to my waist.
“Need help, Doc?” His breath tickles my ear, and my brain short-circuits.
“Yes.” No. Wait. What was I saying?
Sam clears his throat. “Maybe keep your hands to yourself until we solve this thing?”
Logan just smirks, pressing a quick stolen kiss to my cheek, before grabbing a clipboard like he’s suddenly the most serious person in the room. “Alright, team. Let’s get out of here.”
We’re getting somewhere—but barely.
Thirty minutes left.
We’ve unlocked a hidden drawer, solved two riddles, and found half a key sealed in a fake organ jar labeled “ Cerebrum .”
Trey refuses to touch it.
“Dude, it’s not real.” Chace shakes his head.
“I don’t care.” Trey backs away. “I don’t do brain surgery.”
Logan nudges me. “How much do you wanna bet we get out with two minutes to spare?”
I smirk. “I’d rather bet on what I get when we win.”
His eyes darken just enough to make my stomach flip. “Oh, yeah?”
Dean groans. “Can you two behave for five minutes?”
I grin, but I can’t help stealing another quick kiss before going back to the puzzle.
Ten minutes left.
We’re almost out.
Sam, Clay, and Dean are solving a final riddle while Trey and Chace argue about whether the key goes in the left or right slot.
I notice a tiny, blinking red button near the door.
“Should I press that?”
Trey’s eyes widen. “NO!”
Logan chuckles, stepping behind me again. “She’s definitely pressing it.”
I do.
And alarms blare.
The lights flicker. A creepy voice comes over the speaker.
“YOU HAVE ACTIVATED THE FINAL TEST.”
Trey throws his hands in the air. “See?! This is how we die!”
Turns out, the “final test” is just a math puzzle, which Sam solves in seconds, unlocking the door.
We burst out, triumphant.
One minute and forty-seven seconds left .
The staff congratulate us, and before I can catch my breath, Logan grabs me, spinning me around like we just won the goddamn Olympics. Laughter bubbles out of me as he plants a victorious kiss on my lips, his hands firm on my waist, pressing me against him.
“Told you we’d make it,” he murmurs, his electric-blue eyes shining with that cocky confidence that should be illegal.
I grin against his mouth. “I never doubted us.”
Behind us, Trey clears his throat loudly. “Alright, but whose team actually won?” His voice wavers slightly, like he’s not sure he wants the answer.
Clay claps his hands together. “Doesn’t matter. Shanghai Tunnels tonight. Everybody still in?”
Trey groans. “N-no, hold on, we didn’t have teams—”
“Trey…” Sam sighs, already exhausted.
“We all won,” I say, cutting off whatever excuse Trey is about to throw out. “And I promise, if anything happens in the tunnels, I’ll personally beat it up for you.”
Trey frowns. “Ghosts don’t have faces to punch, Mac.”
I grab Logan’s hand, lacing our fingers together and squeezing. “Oh, he’s coming. He said so earlier.”
Trey scowls. “I said no fucking such thing.”
Chace smirks. “Sounds like a yes to me.”
Trey glares at us all but mutters something under his breath about holy water and protective circles as we make our way outside. Logan’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I glance up at him, my heart skipping in that way it always does when he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
We step out into the fresh air, laughing, teasing, already looking forward to whatever chaos comes next.
The bar is dimly lit, warm, and packed with people laughing over drinks. The air smells like whiskey, lime, and beer-soaked wood, and honestly, it’s the perfect place to relax before we do something insanely stupid—like willingly walk into a haunted underground tunnel system.
Trey, however, looks like he’s ready to throw up.
He hasn’t touched his drink. He’s just sitting there, hunched over the table, eyes flicking between each of us like he’s searching for an escape route.
“I mean, do we really have to do this?” His voice is strained, like it’s physically painful for him to even ask. “Double or nothing, yeah? Like, we could just… I don’t know, go to another bar? Or a club? Something that doesn’t involve summoning demons?”
Chace snorts. “We’re not summoning demons, dumbass.”
“You don’t know that,” Trey snaps. “You don’t know what’s down there.”
Logan, ever the instigator, smirks. “Pretty sure they’re just tunnels, man.”
Trey glares. “That’s how it starts. That’s what they want you to think. Then—boom. You’re possessed. Some shadowy, red-eyed, soul-sucking bastard latches onto your aura, and next thing you know, you’re coughing up black sludge and crawling on the ceiling.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Trey, have you been watching The Exorcist again?”
His face is dead serious. “I’m just saying, this is how horror movies start.”
Dean, who has been quietly sipping his beer, leans back. “I thought rock stars were supposed to be fearless.”
Trey points at him aggressively. “You—you don’t get it.” He looks around the table. “Does anyone have a crucifix?”
We all stare at him.
“I’m serious!” he insists. “I need protection. Holy water. A rosary. Something.”
Sam bursts out laughing. “Dude. You’re not even religious.”
“That’s not the point!” Trey throws his hands up. “The point is, I don’t want to be some demons prison bitch.”
Logan shakes his head, grinning like the asshole he is. “Trey, come on, man. You really think any demon is gonna waste their time on you? You’re the Trey Baker. Ain’t no supernatural entity gonna wanna deal with your batshit craziness. Your rizz. Your aura is too damn strong.”
Trey scowls. “Thanks, Logan. I love you, man… but that’s really not comforting.”
Clay, who’s been lazily stirring his drink, finally sighs. “Actually… you’re losing aura.”
Trey’s eyes widen. “The fuck does that mean?”
Clay ignores him, reaching into his pocket and considering something for a beat before pulling out a silver cross necklace. Without a word, he drops it into Trey’s open palm.
“Here. Look after this.”
Trey clutches it like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Thank you. Finally, someone who takes my safety seriously.”
Clay shrugs. “You do realize I’m an atheist, right?”
Trey’s face drops. “Are you kidding me? Does this even work?!”
Dean smirks. “Only one way to find out.”
Trey groans and drops his forehead onto the table. “I hate all of you.”
I reach over and pat his head mockingly. “Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry. If anything tries to possess you, we’ll fight it off.”
Logan grins. “Yeah. We’ll just throw you at it and run.”
Trey shoots up, wide-eyed. “That’s not funny.”
Chace laughs. “It’s a little funny.”
Trey glares at all of us before grabbing one more drink—for luck, he mutters, though his fingers tighten a little too much around the glass. Logan smirks, Sam nudges Chace, and I can’t help but laugh along with them. It’s ridiculous, really, how genuinely scared he looks.
But then, as he downs the drink in one go, I catch the way his throat bobs, the tension in his jaw. A small part of me twists with guilt.
I step away from Logan, grabbing Trey’s arm and pulling him to the side. He stares at me, surprised, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.
“You don’t have to worry,” I tell him quietly, my lips tilting into a small smirk. “About the demons, I mean.”
He blinks. “Yeah?”
I nod, letting my gaze flicker over the ink covering every inch of his skin. Protection sigils, sacred symbols, marks of power—they’re all there, hidden in the chaos of his tattoos.
“You’ve got enough protection inked on your body to last three lifetimes,” I say, my voice light but sure.
His brows pull together. “Wait, you mean that shit’s real?”
I just wink and step back, slipping my fingers through Logan’s as he laces them with mine, warm and sure. We turn to leave, Logan’s thumb brushing over my knuckles, but Trey’s voice calls after us—
“I just thought it looked cool!”
Logan lets out a low chuckle beside me, shaking his head, and I can’t help but laugh. Trey, still staring after us, looks somewhere between mind-blown and horrified.
I don’t clarify. Let him wonder.