I followed them to the main zone where the rest of the crew had gathered, and I stood as far from Jude as physically possible.
Parker climbed up onto a crate so everyone could see him, clipboard in hand.
“Alright, so corporate’s running the ‘Secrets of the Scare’ challenge.”
A few performers groaned. I’d never had to deal with this as a performer, but I’d watched it play out online last year.
“Guests can ask performers cryptic questions that have been handed out on entry. You give cryptic answers. They post it online, tagging us, blah blah. Best posts win prizes.” Parker scrolled through his phone. “There’s a list of approved responses, but you can improvise if someone catches you off guard. Just keep it mysterious. Make them feel like they’re getting insider info without actually telling them anything.”
Great.More people asking questions. More attention. More chances to screw up while pretending my world wasn’t imploding.
“Most of the questions are about your character or teammates,” Parker continued. “Play it up. Make some personal lore. Just give them content.”
I risked a glance at Jude. He stared straight ahead. Jaw tight.
When we finally dispersed to our zones, I felt the cold distance between us like a blade. We hit our marks because we’d done them so many times our bodies knew the steps without thought. But watching Jude move through the fog, seeing the careful way he angled himself to avoid me, the deliberate space he maintained even during our choreographed contacts—it gutted me.
He’d shut down completely. Gone was the man who’d grabbed my jaw at Murphy’s and claimed me. Gone was the intensity that made our fights feel real. Now he was just a professional executing his job. When I grabbed his vest during the sequence, his eyes slid past my face like I wasn’t even there. When I pinned him, he countered mechanically, no heat in his movements. Just efficient. Clinical.
We’d gone from almost tearing each other apart in front of everyone to trying to avoid as much physical contact as possible. And the worst part? I’d done this. I’d pushed him away.
A group of teenagers wandered through. They glanced at us, phones out, clearly hoping for something viral.
“Come on!” a girl called. “Give us something good!” They wanted the version of us that had broken the internet. The feral, dangerous Hunters who looked like they wanted to devour each other.
Jude lunged at them, but his heart wasn’t in it. They laughed, but it was wrong. It was a pitying sound, the kind of laugh you gave a street performer who was bombing.
My face burned under the paint.
Jude circled back into the shadows without even trying to salvage it. The teenagers wandered off, disappointed and still scrolling on their phones, their attention spans already failing.
One boy lingered. “Hey, for the contest. What’s your partner’s biggest secret?”
I hesitated. What was I supposed to say?He lets me fuck him as long as I don’t look him in the eyes?
“He’s better than he thinks,” I finally managed. The approved cryptic bullshit. “And worse than he pretends.”
The kid grinned and typed it into his phone before jogging after his friends.
I stood alone in the red light, smoke curling around my boots as the speakers overhead played our soundtrack. It used to make my blood sing. Now it just reminded me of everything we weren’t anymore.
Another group approached, and I scared them on autopilot. They shrieked and scattered, and it should’ve felt good, maybe even made me smug, but instead it felt like nothing.
***
By the second night of phoning it in, management noticed.
Parker caught us between rotations, hauling us into the supply corridor where the smell of fake blood and machinery grease was thick enough to taste. His arms were crossed, expression tight.
“What’s going on with you two?”
Jude leaned against the wall, arms folded. He was a perfect picture of indifference. “We’re working.”
“You’re sleepwalking. I’ve had six different guests say the Hunters aren’t as good as the videos.” Parker’s clipboard tapped against his thigh, a staccato punctuation to each word. “The whole point of putting you together was the energy. Where the hell did it go?”
My throat felt lined with sandpaper. “We’ll fix it.”
“You better. People are showing up specifically for you two and leaving disappointed.” Parker’s gaze bounced between us, searching for something we weren’t giving him. “Take five. Whatever’s going on, handle it. I can’t have my top draw bombing because of personal drama.”
