The Wolf's Game
His blood hits the floor and sinks; the Maze drinks it greedily.
He glances at me. “It needs blood freely given.”
“I can help.”
“No.” He’s firm, low. “One of us bleeds. Not both.”
But the Maze doesn’t stay satisfied for long. By the next chamber, the heartbeat quickens, louder, impatient. The walls pulse tighter, forcing us single-file through a tunnel barely wide enough to breathe. The floor squelches with each step.
Renna vomits. The sound echoes wetly.
I gag, forcing it down. “Keep moving.”