The fairground was too loud. Too bright. Too crowded. My heart pounded, not from the thrill of the rides, but from something colder—something wrong. I scanned the crowd again, trying to find him.

Then I saw him.

Liam was pushing through the throng by the cotton candy stand, eyes locked on mine. Relief crashed into me like a wave, until I saw the look on his face. Controlled. Tight. Not the smile I expected.

He didn’t say a word when he reached me. Just wrapped his arms around me in a hug that felt a little too urgent, a little too stiff.

Then he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
 "Act normal. They're watching us."

I froze.

“W-What?” I whispered, but he pulled back with a too-wide grin.

"Hey!" he said loudly, like nothing was wrong. "You made it after all! Thought you'd chicken out." He laughed—light, teasing—and nudged my shoulder.

I blinked at him, my mind racing. He was acting, pretending this was some casual meet-up. So I tried to mirror him, forcing a nervous smile.

"Me? Chicken out?" I nudged him back. "You're the one who screamed on the Ferris wheel last time."

He chuckled and glanced subtly over my shoulder. “Two men. One in a brown jacket. Other’s holding a balloon. Don’t look. Just nod.”

I gave a slight nod, my palms damp.

“Why are they watching us?” I murmured.

Liam grabbed my wrist gently, leading me toward the ring toss booth. “Because they think I know something. And maybe…I do.”

He handed a crumpled ticket to the bored teenager running the game and spoke just loud enough for me to hear.

"You weren’t supposed to be part of this. I’m sorry."

“What _is_ this?”

“I’ll explain later.” His eyes flicked toward the men again. “But if they think you’re just a date—they’ll leave you alone.”

I picked up a ring with shaky hands, trying to play the part, but my voice cracked.

“What happens if they don’t?”

Liam leaned close again, his voice lower than before.
 “Then we run.”

I didn’t remember throwing the rings. Didn’t remember missing. Just the bright lights, the muffled music, and Liam’s smile—the one that looked like it had been stitched on by trembling hands.

The two men were still watching. Brown Jacket leaned casually near the funnel cake stand, but he hadn't taken a bite of the food he held. Balloon Guy was closer now, pretending to tie a child's shoelace. His eyes never left us.

“Time to move,” Liam murmured, brushing his knuckles against mine like this was some soft summer romance. “Left. Toward the carousel. Don’t run. Don’t look. Just… walk.”

We moved together, past sticky pavement and clusters of laughter, like any other pair killing time before curfew. My heart beat so loudly, I half-wondered if Balloon Guy could hear it over the carousel music.

“Why me?” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Why would they care about me?”

“Because they think I told you,” Liam said, his voice low. “But I didn’t. Not yet.”

“Told me _what_?”

“That someone on the inside is leaking classified information. Dangerous stuff. I found the leak.”

My stomach turned. I almost stopped walking.

“You’re kidding.” I laughed—quiet, breathless. “So what? Whats going on?”

Liam kept the fake smile. “I’ll tell you– but not here.”

The carousel loomed ahead. Lights flickered like dying stars. I smelled popcorn and engine grease.

Then Liam veered us toward a candy vendor. He bought two apples and handed one to me.

“Say something dumb. Smile like I just told you I love you.”

My face flushed. “You _didn’t_, right?”

His gaze never left my face. “Not unless you want me to.”

So I laughed—too high, too fake. “Wow, my dream date. A red sugar bomb on a stick.”

“That’s the spirit,” he murmured. “Make them believe we’re just idiots with sweet teeth.”

Then the carousel behind us gave a sharp screech. I heard it—clear and crisp: _crack_.

Not a scream. Not music.

A gunshot.

Liam’s eyes shifted. No more teasing. No more pretending.

“_Go._” His voice was urgent. “Now.”

“What was that?”

“A warning shot.” He looked around. “They’re done watching.”

Panic stabbed through my chest.

“Run through the mirror maze. Lose yourself. Meet me by the back fence in ten. Got it?”

“But—”

“Clara, please.” His hand tightened around mine for one second, then let go. “This is the part of the book where the girl runs. You’ve read enough to know what happens if she doesn’t.”

My breath caught.

He knew me too well. _The girl always runs._ Not because she’s scared—but because she wants to live.

So I did.