The castle is too quiet. The torches flicker wildly as you and Mattheo sprint down the empty hallway, your breath coming in sharp gasps. This is not how you thought your Valentine’s date would end.

"We are going to die," Mattheo says, gripping your wrist as he drags you behind a suit of armor.

"Not if you fight him!" you whisper back, peeking around the corner. The Ghostface-like figure moves slowly, its dark robes swaying as it tilts its head, scanning the corridor like a predator playing with its prey.

Mattheo glares at you. "And what the hell does that mean?"

You blink at him like it’s obvious. "Mattheo, you’re tall and ripped and perfectly capable of defending yourself!"

Mattheo glances down at himself before looking at you in complete shock. "These muscles were not made for violence—they were made for cuddling."

"Are you—are you serious right now?" you whisper-shout, resisting the urge to smack him.

"Dead serious, love. And, yes, pun intended,," he mutters, gripping your arm and pulling you further into the shadows. "If we survive, I promise I’ll use them for that, but right now? We run."

Before you can argue, the kiIIer moves. A flash of silver—a knïfe catching the torchlight.

Mattheo doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your hand, pulling you with him as you both take off down the corridor.

"I swear to Salazar, if we die because you refused to use your gym bro strength—"

"Then at least I’ll die hot!" he yells.