Devin looks me up and down, popping a hip effeminately. “It’s comical because you think you made these decisions yourself, when in reality, they were selected for you by the people in this room, from the voices in our heads.”
Derek chuckles. “Devil Wears Prada. Insane reference.”
I huff a laugh. “Think what you want about me, but I’m not participating in some D-rate piece of shit. I’d rather you shoot us both right now.”
My eyes lock on Devin, whose jaw is tensed, his trigger finger far too itchy as he points it back at Chase for the third time.
But Derek smiles before he sighs and lowers his brother’s arm so he’s not pointing the gun at Chase anymore.
“Sorry, my brother can be a little hotheaded ... Creatives are eccentric. But that’s moviemaking for you. Something I know you understand, Evie. We’re the same ... you and us. This is bigger than just one person. Be a part of this movie.”
“What’s in it for me?” I snark, truly going for it, because making them believe I understand them is our only shot at what I’m thinking. “I’ll be a hero, but alone with blood on my hands.”
They raise their brows at the same time, surprised by my answer, but I don’t stop there.
“Plus, I know you fancy yourselves moviemakers and scriptwriters, but maybe instead of having let the crazy out so soon, you could’ve honed your craft ... because you’ve got a plot hole.”
“No, there isn’t,” Devin shoots back just as fast.
But Derek holds up his hand for me to continue.
“I’m supposed to be so emotionally affected by the death of my sister and Noah—” I can’t even glance back at Chase as I say, “—and my boyfriend, that I go wild and end you two.”
“Yeah,” Devin rushes out again, clearly offended by my doubt.
I shrug. “Then where are they? It’s just me and Chase here. Even if you said you’d killed them, I wouldn’t believe you. And that kind of rage is more of an in-the-moment kind of thing. So ... where are the motivators? Because last I checked, you shot my sister, and I don’t see Noah.”
My head shifts around as I highlight my words with sarcasm.
God, let this work. Let this fucking work.
Devin scowls at me, tapping the gun against his leg as Derek glares. They’re standing there quietly, trying to assess my motive for saying what I’ve said. Weighing out whether or not I’m wrong.
I pull out my final card. “You know I’m right. Without them, all you have is a shittier version ofThe Blair Witch Projectand a bunch of headlines that say: Wannabe filmmakers go off the deep end. Your masterpiece will be a zero on Rotten Tomatoes.”
The seconds feel like hours before Devin turns to him, his voice hushed but insistent.
“You told me to shoot. You told me to kill Goldie ... but she’s right.”
“Shut up,” Derek bites back. “If you hadn’t been caught by Chase, we could’ve stuck to the first script.”
Devin tosses his hands in the air, instinctively making Chase and me duck before I weave my fingers between his and squeeze to get his attention.
The two of them begin to argue as I give Chase a look, then the gun, because Devin’s not paying attention, his arms moving all over as he yells at his brother.
We break away, inching closer to them, my heart in my throat. Even my hands feel clammy, but this is our only shot at getting away.
I motion with my head to Devin so Chase knows who to go for.
Neither of them pays attention as we take careful steps closer and closer. They’re just blaming each other for not knowing where Noah and Goldie are—relief courses through me—and for Chase’s failed drowning.
Insults are being lobbed back and forth.
“If you think she’s right, then fix this!”
“I will,” Devin shouts. “You always do this to me. Expect genius at a moment’s notice. You’re so selfish. I wish Mom hated you so I could’ve pushed you out of a tree and been the good son.”
“Fuck you,” Derek yells. “I carry you ... I’m not the one who couldn’t kill the friend. Eddie’s death would’ve been a perfect distraction. I even had to flush her fish, you pussy.”
