Page 65 of Life After You

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.

Chapter Sixteen

Logan

The tour starts off easy enough—beer and pizza atOld Town Pizza, the kind of distraction that keeps the nerves at bay. Trey, in particular, is a big fan, grinning between bites like this is all there is to it. Like we’re just here for a casual dinner.

But the pizza disappears too fast, the last sip of beer too soon, and then we’re led down.

The moment we step into the foundations, everything changes. The air is thick, heavy, damp. It clings to my skin, seeps into my lungs. It smells of wet earth and mildew, like something ancient has been trapped down here for too long. The walls are crumbling, age peeling away in sheets, revealing jagged bones ofthe past. In places, it looks like a flooded graveyard, the remains of something long buried forcing their way back to the surface.

Trey makes a small, strangled noise behind me. I don’t even have to turn around to know he’s regretting every life choice that led him here.

Mac presses into my side, gripping my arm so tightly I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up with bruises. Not that I mind. In fact, I turn her around, wrapping my arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You okay, querida?” I murmur.

She gives a small nod, but I can feel the slight tremor in her body. “Just… trying not to think about how many people probably died down here.”

“Trey’s the one you should be worried about.”

As if on cue, Trey mutters, “Well, this places fucking sucks.”

The tour guide, a lanky guy in his forties with round glasses and an unsettlingly calm voice, clears his throat. “Now, I should mention that many visitors report… strange sensations down here.”

Trey visibly tenses. “What kind of sensations?”

The guide tilts his head. “Oh, you know. A hand on their shoulder when no one is there. A whisper in their ear. The feeling that they’re being… watched. Or overcome withdread.”

Trey grabs onto Chace’s jacket like a lifeline. “Not today, Satan. Ain’t nobody putting their mitts on me. I swear to God, if I feel a single ghostly touch, I am throwing hands.”

---