The maze changed again.
The stone walls peeled away into slick, rusted metal. Pipes dripped overhead.
The air stank of oil, blood, and something deeper — a chemical rot that burned the inside of Miles' skull.
Ahead, the corridor ended in two doors.
Both identical.
Both humming faintly, like something breathing behind them.
Above the doors, a sign flashed weakly:
RULE #14: SACRIFICE IS INEVITABLE.
Miles stood there, breathing hard.
Behind Door One: silence.
Behind Door Two: sobbing.
Kayla.
The real Kayla.
He was sure of it.
There was no glitch this time.
No teeth, no melting faces.
Just raw, human fear.
He shoved open Door Two.
Inside was a small, freezing room, lit only by a swinging fluorescent light.
Kayla hung suspended by her wrists, feet barely touching the ground.
Her face snapped up when she heard him — her eyes wide, bloodshot, desperate.
"Miles!" she gasped. "Help me, please!"
He sprinted toward her —
— and stopped dead.
Another monitor blinked to life behind her.
A new timer:
00:59
And underneath it, the words:
CHOOSE.
Only one leaves this room alive.
Beneath the monitor, two buttons.
One labeled FREE.
One labeled FORFEIT.
A speaker crackled.
That mocking, syrupy voice:
"Press FREE, Detective Rennick — and she walks out alive. But you won't."
"Press FORFEIT, and you live... but she doesn't."
Kayla struggled against her bonds, sobbing harder.
"Miles, don't listen to them! We'll find another way—!"
But the clock was already bleeding down:
00:42...
He stepped forward, staring at the buttons.
The floor panels buzzed under his boots.
Pressure plates.
Traps armed and ready.
No trickery.
No fake rules.
Sacrifice is inevitable.
He met Kayla's eyes.
And for just a second — a flicker — something cold flashed across her face.
Not fear.
Calculation.
Gone in an instant.
But Miles' gut locked tight.
He remembered the mimic earlier, speaking his badge number.
Remembered her hesitation back in the tunnels.
And something worse:
The way she'd looked relieved when he had chosen to save her over Jonah.
The maze wasn't just lying.
Maybe Kayla wasn't either.
Maybe she was playing her own game.
Maybe everyone in this house had a mask.
The timer screamed:
00:15
Miles closed his eyes for half a second.
You don't survive by being kind.
He slammed his hand down on the FORFEIT button.
A hiss filled the air.
The chains holding Kayla released.
She dropped hard to the floor, gasping.
The door behind Miles clicked open.
The voice whispered:
"You chose well."
Kayla looked up at him, eyes wide, stunned.
And somewhere in them — deep — was a flicker of something that wasn't gratitude.
It was anger.
Betrayal.
Maybe even fear.
Miles didn't look back.
He just walked through the open door, boots loud against the metal floor.