CHAPTER EIGHT
LILA
How? How did I even end up here, sprinting through a maze that feels endless? This whole night, it’s like an out-of-body experience.
Will it ever end? Can I really pull this off? One thing I do know is that he will not beat me .
I creep through the godforsaken maze, my body trembling uncontrollably, every muscle screaming with exhaustion. I’m barely able to stand, but pure determination keeps me moving.
I’m close. I have to be.
I’ve made sure to only move forward. Never once looking back. But then, something catches my eye. In the far-left corner of the haunting hedges, a soft glow breaks through the darkness, faint, but unmistakable.
Could it be the finish line?
The hedges stretch fifteen feet high, impossible to see beyond . Anxiety coils in my chest. Strangely, I haven’t run into any creatures. No chainsaws. No screams. Nothing. Just silence. Unnerving silence. The kind that settles right before a tornado hits.
Is he the tornado? Waiting to flip my world upside down.
This feels like a trap. Or maybe that’s the point. Reverse psychology. Make it look like a trap, so I hesitate, freeze, and turn back when, in reality, the finish line is right through there.
Nice try, stranger in a mask. I see you. And I’m not playing by your rules.
The glow becomes more distinct. My heart lurches, bracing for the fireworks to go off.
I did it, Mom. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
Following the swirling path, I make a sharp left, and then I see it.
A winding path lit by flickering lanterns leading to a stone gazebo, carved so beautifully it could’ve been torn from the pages of Pride and Prejudice.
It feels sacred, like a hidden portal to another world, tucked away behind the maze walls, far from everything else.
A place to breathe. A place to hide. A place to think.
Moonlight spills over the dome, vines of blooming lilacs cascading down the pillars.
Stars shimmer above like scattered diamonds as clouds drift lazily past. And for a moment, it feels like pure magic.
The most peaceful place I’ve ever seen. A place I could hide away from everything, wrapped in a blanket, lost in books and dreams. But nothing. No voices. No celebration.
Just the wind howling through the hedges and the chattering of my own teeth. The warmth from the liquor has vanished. My skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold. My nose is running, my feet ache, and my legs tremble beneath me.
I’m so close… and yet still so far away.
I glance around. No sign of him either, just me and the serene sight before me.
I move toward the gazebo. Each slow step feels like a risk, but I can’t help it.
The architecture pulls me in. I take a deep breath, the scent of lilacs filling my lungs.
My fingers brush against the stone pillar to steady myself as I climb the steps.
“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET IN HERE?” The modulated voice slices through the silence from behind.
Oh God.
I freeze. I turn, heart slamming in my chest. He’s there. The red mask. And he’s not just angry, he’s outraged.
His chest rises and falls with sharp, furious breaths, rage radiating off him like heat.
“ I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I thought this was the exit…” He doesn’t move.
Just studying my every breath like he can hear the fear in it, and he’s probably enjoying every second of it.
But little does he know, seeing him standing in front of me, chest heaving and body rigid with wrath, doesn’t terrify me.
It thrills me. I want to know why he’s angry.
I want to know who he is behind the mask.
Is he a monster? Hell, I don’t even know what his face looks like, and still, he’s irresistible.
Tempting. Dominant in all the ways that make my pulse race.
A wicked excitement coils low in my belly, pulsing straight to my clit. And suddenly, something takes over. Something dark. Hot. Sensual. And because of it, I want to taste the fury on his skin. Devour every inch of this maddening, masked man. I want to toy with him the same way he’s toyed with me.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, eyes still locked on the gazebo, voice low and soft with wonder.
I lean against the pillar, letting my fingers brush over a lilac bloom before lifting it to my nose.
“I didn’t mean to trespass,” I say, voice smooth but honest. “I know what it’s like to have a place that feels private.
Untouchable. Yours.” My gaze flicks toward the shadows, searching for him.
“I wasn’t trying to take it from you,” I add, a little slower this time, breath catching on the edges of the words.
“I just wanted to feel it… even for a second.”
He doesn’t respond.
I wish I could hear his thoughts…
“I’ll go,” I add softly.
The tension in the air is suffocating. And yet… electric. Something pulses between us, and I feel it everywhere. My body reacts like it knows him.
This has to be Beck… I mean, it’s his house and his maze, so this must be his special place.
I go to take a step down… And then he grabs me from the shadows. "No. Don’t you dare fucking leave!"
His voice lowers, the modulator dropping it to something dark and sinful. The sound alone could make me cum. "I found you," he whispers in my ear, his tone low, possessive, controlled.
It feels like time stops. The glow of neon red pulses between us like a heartbeat, and for a moment, we’re the only two people in the world.
We stand beneath the gazebo, lilac blooms swirling around us in the wind.
Moonlight cuts through the dark, finally revealing him.
And I truly see him. Not just the mask. Not just a shadow cloaked in designer Armani. But something more.
He isn’t just a danger lurking in the maze.
He’s the pull in my chest. The ache I can’t explain.
A need that wraps around my ribs and refuses to let go.
It’s not just lust. It’s something deeper.
Something scarier. Like this man behind the mask was meant to be mine.
As if my soul had recognized him long before my mind could process it.
Like I was meant to find him here in the dark, and now that I have, I never want to let go.
It feels like that moment with the Phantom.
The heat. The intensity. The way my soul felt stripped bare.
But this is different. That moment was a fantasy, blurred by my imagination.
This is real. I can touch him. Feel the heat radiating off his body.
The wind tugging at his black hood. The tension coiled in every muscle. The gravity that pulls us closer.
He backs me against one of the pillars, his body not quite touching mine, but close enough to burn. His gloved hand hovers near my waist, the other brushing my neck, and the air in my lungs is nonexistent.
Every inch of me is trembling, aching for something I don’t understand.
I should push him away. Run. Scream. But instead, I tilt my chin up and breathe him in.
Because beneath the mask, beneath the fury, I feel it.
He doesn’t want me gone. He wants me right here. And God help me… I don’t want to leave.
My purse hits the ground as I gasp, startled, but the sound is swallowed by the tension. He yanks me down the stairs by the arm, spinning me until I’m pressed against the wall, chest to chest, breath to breath. His grip tightens. It isn’t just fury holding me in place. It’s want.
"You’re not going anywhere," he growls, his voice a rasp of raw need. "Not until I say you can." His masked face is inches from mine. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them dragging over every inch of me. I should push him away. But instead, I lean into his anger.
“What the hell is your problem?” I demand, my voice shaking but not from fear.
“You went through a gate marked DO NOT ENTER.”
“What are you talking about? There was no gate,” I snap, breathless. The air between us crackles with tension, his energy wrapping around me, coiling tighter with every second.
He steps even closer. I feel his gaze drop to my lips.
Warmth pours off him like a fever. “Right,” he growls.
“So, the gate just walked off on its own?” His breathing is sharp, uneven.
But it’s not just anger. It’s something more profound.
Raw. Feral. Like he’s fighting the need to touch me.
Claim me. And I’m standing here, trembling… wanting him to lose that fight.
Is he unraveling for me the same way I’m unraveling for him?
My own anger flares. “Don’t accuse me of lying. I hate that!” I move closer to him like a challenge, letting my alter ego rise to the surface. My lip catches between my teeth, slow and intentional. He sees it.
Good.
“Don’t… don’t do that,” he says, completely breathless.
“Do what?” I tease, fingers brushing across his shoulder like he did to me. “You found your princess… so now what? Going to punish me? Zip-tie me?” I say, voice dipped in melted sugar.
His mask tilts, but no words come. He’s still, as if he’s processing what’s happening. Frozen, like he’s afraid to touch me.
That’s new.
“How did you find me so fast?”
“You can’t hide from me, princess.” His voice lowers, his glove lifts, brushing my jawline. “Not when you shine so brightly in the dark.”
Damn him.
Goosebumps ripple down my spine. He knows exactly what he is doing to me. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my ears. Something shifts. A strange new confidence rises in me. One I have never felt before. Maybe it is the adrenaline. Maybe it is the lingering liquor. Or maybe it is just him.