Gasping, and still holding the oozing wound in his side, Reginald limped toward the exit. He was sure of it; the way looked familiar, right down to the decorative trellis.

“Reggie, dear?”

Bethany’s footsteps were slow, languid, and every now and then one of her bright white wedding shoes clacked on a hard flagstone.

“Reggie, darling!”

Reginald steadied himself on the trellis just before the exit. “I knew you were a nutter…fifty years ago…” he gasped. “You didn’t snare me so easily then, and you won’t now…!”

He staggered through the trellis, only for a defeated wail to escape his lips. It was’t the exit after all; far from it, he saw more landscaped hedges and more of those damnable white flowers spreading in every direction.

And behind him, in a bridal dress as old as the day he’d left her, Bethany. “I’ve had ages to plan my revenge, Reggie,” she laughed. “I know you so well even after all these years, and I’ve made sure my botanical mazes of white lace and trees aren’t so easy to escape.”

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