Page 34 of Christmas Mafia Prince
When I step back, his teeth are digging into his lower lip to stifle the hunger I’ve awakened. “Better hurry then, I know this maze like the back of my hand,” he tells me in a voice so low itstimbre rolls down my spine like a chain about to close around my wrists.
He gives my ass a pat, and I run off feeling so… joyful. I never got to experience a magical Christmas as a kid, and now here I am, traversing this winter wonderland. It’s not too visible in the sunshine, but lights are woven into the neatly trimmed bushes, decorating them, along with red ribbons and tiny baubles. On the lower branches, where the kids can reach, there’s also hard candy and little chocolate bars. It feels naughty, but I steal one regardless, to eat along the way. From the look of it, these kids will get more sweets than they can possibly eat anyway.
It only takes me a minute or two to get lost. I don’t know where I entered or where the exit is. How big is this maze anyway? I couldn’t see the whole thing from my window, but at this point I’d even believe that it’s a magical place that extends into a different dimension where I’m going to be trapped forever.
Which I might be okay with, if Damen gets lost alongside me.
I make several wrong choices that send me into dead ends, but after retracing my steps, I face a long straight passage and spot a little turret way ahead. Surely, that place might be at the center of the maze, and if my fake husband chases me down, it should provide the privacy we need for—
The ground opens under me. I reach forward, certain I’m just tripping, but gravity wins. The gap swallows me whole. Breath catches in my throat as my knees crash into tiles…Tiles?I fold forward and slam face-first into the floor.
My forehead throbs, my knees scream, but I still look around the deep well I found myself in. The fuck is this death trap? There’s nothingfestiveabout this sunken prison opening up in the ground.
“Calm down, Killian,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe it’s a challenge, a puzzle, a type of escape room for rich people.”
When I leap up, I can’t even almost reach the upper edge of the wall with my fingertips, but climbing out feels like an impossible task. No ladder. No rope. No helpful elves.
Just black slits in two of the walls, too narrow for even my hand to fit in. Still, I inch closer, hoping to get myself out of this mess without calling for help and becoming the laughing stock of my man’s family.
First, I hear a strange hum from inside the walls.
Then, two large circular saws slide out from the openings, making my eyes bulge. They’re steel covered in specks of what I can only hope is rust, not the blood of their last victim. They spin slowly at first, but then pick up their pace, as if they’re two predators zeroing in on me. They know I have nowhere to run.
This is no game. And no test either.
I’m trapped, and thistrapwill turn me into mincemeat for this year’s Christmas pies.
I scream for help as I claw at the wall too smooth to provide any traction. With each desperate jump, I envision slipping and falling on one of the saws. My heart is in my throat, and I’m already crying, because each time I’m about to reach the edge of this death pit with my fingers, I end up slipping back down.
This place is designed to be cruel, to tease and torture.
To rip me apart at a languid pace, so I have the time for regret.
I see them all too clearly—all the wrong choices that have led me here.
Chapter 12
Damen
Isitcheatingtofollow my prey’s current location on the screen of my phone when we both want me to find him as soon as possible? Maybe. But I don’t think he would mind even if he knew his new gold jewelry is equipped with a tracker.
A simple safety measure, really, but I won’t deny that seeing the dot marking his whereabouts move through the maze I know by heart is giving me a thrill. He’s about to pass one of the manytraps occasionally used during the Christmas hunt when a sharp cry echoes through the air, sinking into my chest like an icepick.
The voice could only belong to Killian, but it sounded nothing like him. It was… loud, desperate, and full of terror. I stare at the live map on my smartwatch, and something inside me refuses to acknowledge what a part of me already knows—the reason why Kill stopped in the exact position the trap’s located.
That would mean someone… has switched them on, on a day children were scheduled to play in the maze, and that is just… inconceivable. So inconceivable in fact that I only move when Killian shrieks again, his voice rising over the roar of two massive saws.
I don’t have much time and bolt inside the maze without thinking. Initially, I attempt to follow the quickest possible path, but Killian’s unfamiliar with the kind of danger I’ve unwittingly pushed him into, and if he gets hurt, I’m never going to forgive myself.
Glass decorations break as I charge at the nearest bush, tearing my way through the evergreen wall. It spits me out onto a winding path, but I know where it’s going to take me, so I follow it, and only then throw myself at the hedge in front of me. This one’s thicker, denser than the one I tackled before, but with Kill’s cries for help ringing in my skull, I drag myself up and roll over the manicured bush.
Maybe I should calm him by shoutingI’m comingorAlmost there, but it feels like a waste of air, when he’s so close, his shrill voice so very loud as I go right twice, then crawl under one of the hedges, and go left to face the path heading straight for the middle of the maze.
In my way is a deep hole the size of a small car, and two mechanical arms featuring circle saws move from both ends. They’re reaching for Killian, who’s in the middle, attempting to gain momentum as he throws himself at the wall to crawl out.
He’s too short. This place is designed to hold men much taller than him.
“I’m here! Grab my hand!” I yell and fall to the ground to reach for him from the edge.
