Ace lifts his hand once more. We all take a deep breath in unison, then let it out the same way. We raise our weapons to low ready. Our muscles tense, ready to move.
Please,I pray for the first time since my dad got so sick.Please let her be okay. Please.
Ace gives the signal to move.
The four of us split up, two and two, heading in opposite directions.
My hand tightens on my gun. In my other, I clutch the lockpicks.
I’m coming,I tell Noelle silently.I’m almost there.
Then, just step from the basement door, there’s a muffled shout from below.
My heart stops.
Someone shouts again.
In my terror, it takes a second to realize it’s not a woman’s voice, but a man’s.
A second later, a gunshot sounds.
My muscles go weak, and I have to brace my hand on the door to keep from collapsing.
Shit.
Fuck.
What’s going on down there?
And what is he doing to Noelle?
CHAPTER 18
NOELLE
The room is still echoingfrom the sound of the gunshot as the actor clutches his bloodied chest and falls to his knees.
My ears are ringing, so I can’t hear his cry of pain. But from the twist of his features, I know what it is.
Crimson blossoms across his chest, faster than I ever could have imagined. Faster than the special effects we used in the theater. Faster than anything I’ve seen in the movies. It pulses out of him, slicking his hands and dripping onto the floor. Just as quickly, his skin pales from bronze to a ghastly white.
No,he mouths.Please.
He places one bloodied hand on the stage in an attempt to hold himself up. He lifts his head, his agonized gaze locking on Dario’s.
This time, when the injured man speaks, my hearing has come back enough to hear him.
“Please,” he gasps. “I don’t want to die. I’ll do whatever… you want. Just… the hospital… please…”
“You should have thought of that before you refused to play your role,” Dario replies coldly. “I made it perfectly clear what the consequences would be. It’s your own fault for not listening to me.” Then Dario glares at the red splotches marring the glossy wood. “And now I’m going to have to get this cleaned up before we continue.”
With a snap of his fingers, Dario gestures to a terrified woman standing just off-stage. “You. Clean this up. Now. Before it stains.”
Despite the terror locking my muscles, I take a staggering step towards the young man bleeding to death center-stage.
I don’t know his name, or that of the three other actors on stage with him. I never got the chance to ask. Dario just dragged me from my concrete holding cell, marched me into this weird little theater, made me change into my costume at gunpoint, and then dragged me onto the stage for the start of the performance.
“A long-awaited performance,” he announced to the cast with a triumphant smile. “Now that I finally have my perfect leading lady, I’m thrilled to say that the show can go on.”
