“Red?”
I turn to find Sebastien walking toward me.
He salutes me. “Well, how do you feel about being done with your first project?”
I grin. “I’m more tired than I expected.”
He nods. “Yeah, keeping up the energy gets tough by the last month. But I just wanted to say how impressed I am with what you’ve done.”
“Thanks, Sebastien. I definitely appreciated all your advice.” The more seasoned actor kept his word to maintain the boundaries of friendship, and I’ve learned a lot from him.
He offers his hand, casting a sly glance over at Zack who waits on the leash with Rickon. “This much is allowed, right?”
I laugh and shake his hand. “Of course. I hope we get to act together again sometime.”
Sebastien lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “So do I, but I’m considering a long-term role in a French production. A bit off the beaten path for me, but it’s drawing me.”
I perk up, remembering the research Doc Woods mentioned related to pre-bonds possibly being responsible for packs moving countries to find each other.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his shoulder. “If your gut’s saying go for it, then get on that plane tomorrow.”
He brightens. “Yeah, it just feels right, you know? Even though my agent says it’s a career killer.”
“Tell that to Kayla Grant,” I shoot back.
Sebastien grunts. “True. She was barely known before Crime Scene Squad.”
“Exactly. And now she’s a household name.” I won’t mention the research since I don’t want to get his hopes up. If he does something new and fun and meets his scent-match on the side, well that would be a nice bonus. “Am I allowed to know any details?”
He winces. “Not really, since I haven’t signed . . . but I will say dystopian crime boss.”
Well shit. Sebastien in a dark role? That’ll be interesting. “I’ll watch the show,” I promise.
I glance around, but Rickon’s now talking with a producer who came to congratulate us on the wrap. Zack waits patiently, gnawing on a protein bar while keeping both eyes on Sebastien. I chuckle weakly.
My feet burn and my head’s a little achy, I think from not enough water today, especially given how the weather’s warming up. We have the gala in a week, and I have final fittings with Hannah Sorentito for my dress in two days, but I just want to crawl into bed for a month. With my pack, of course.
“Rickon,” I call, waving. When he pauses his conversation, I say, “I’ll wait in the car.” I point toward the vehicle with our service’s logo on the door in the car park.
He flashes me a thumbs-up.
I should go over and grab Zack, but it seems like too far to walk, so I head for the car. Plus, that’ll make Rickon hurry because Zack’ll get restless. Hitching my purse up higher on my shoulder, I carry my roses with both hands and head for the car.
I throw open the backseat door and push in, the huge bouquet barely fitting through the door. “Hey, the rest of my party will be here in a minute,” I tell the driver.
Maybe I’ll text Callisto while I wait, but then again, I better not since I don’t want to distract him. It’s his big day after all. How nice that our celebrations can happen at the same time.
As I set the flowers down on the seat beside me and reach for my purse looking for the small bottle of water Rickon always slips inside, the car rolls forward. I flail, grabbing for the door handle. “Hey! My pack aren’t—”
The driver looks up in the mirror.
My blood curdles. “You!” I spit out furiously.
Rickon’s mother hits a button, and the doors lock with a sharp click.
“Let me out!” I shout, throwing myself at the handle. But it’s no use; I’m trapped.
The car speeds up through the gates, engine a terrifying whine in my ears. My pulse pounds under my breast as fear collides with anger in my chest. How dare this bitch come after us again?
