Page 98 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

The paparazzi hesitate for a second, then split, some charging after the girls while the rest surge toward us.

“Come on, kitty!” Logan shouts over his shoulder. “This way!”

I keep up, somehow. Running in heels isn’t exactly my talent, but I manage, dodging through the crowd as curses and shouts trail behind us. We cut through a fog of sugar and smoke and dazzling lights, the scent of candied apples thick in the air as we rush past.

We reach the haunted mirror maze and plunge into darkness. The air inside is cool, a welcome change from the chaos outside. Dim orange lights flicker from hidden corners, their reflections stretching endlessly across the glass.

Logan grips my hand tight as we slow our pace. “You okay?” he asks.

I gulp, trying to steady my breath. “Yeah.”

“They went in here!”a voice shouts from the maze’s entrance.

“Shit,” Logan mutters, his smirking face multiplying in every direction around me. “Come on!”

We jog forward, the distorted maze warping our reflections. My own panicked face stares back at me a hundred times over, fractured in jagged angles. The world tilts left, right. A dead end and back again. I lose track of where we are, but so do they.

Then, up ahead—a faint glow. The exit.

Logan grabs my wrist and veers sharply to the left, pulling me behind a curtain, the fabric painted with neon arrows pointing the way out. He presses me against the cool wall, his breath warm against my cheek, the air smelling faintly of old dust and fog machine smoke.

A single finger grazes his lips.

“Shh,”he whispers.

Boots pound against the floor just beyond our hiding spot.

“They made it out!”someone shouts.“Go, go, go!”

We stay frozen, listening as the chaos rushes past, their strides barely audible over my pulse hammering against my ribs. I tip my head to look at Logan. The sharp cut of his jaw. The flicker of amusement in his blue eyes. The protective way he holds me close.

My heart flutters.

“I think they’re gone,” he whispers, stealing a glance beyond the curtain. “We should wait. Let them get some distance first.”

I nod, breathless. The adrenaline in my blood turns absolutely electric. From fear. From safety. From something wild and so utterly reckless.

There’s no undoing this.

They saw us. They took pictures.

By morning,Gossipawill be on fire.

My bandmates will know.

Knox will know.

But the burn in my chest isn’t guilt—it’s exhilaration. The raw, forbidden thrill of rebellion, of breaking the rules I once held sacred.

Of running into the dark with a boy I have no business holding hands with.

“Katrina,” Logan whispers, looking down at me. “You okay?”

I nod.

And then I kiss him.

It’s like pouring gasoline on an open flame. Heat surges between us, igniting every inch of my body. Logan cups my face, fingers threading into my hair, and kisses me back. Hungry, unrelenting. I press into him, gripping the firm lines of his body, pulling him impossibly closer.

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