A cluster of overgrown shrubs and neglected landscaping borders the theater wall.
Perfect.
We lower him to the ground and arrange the shrubs until everything appears undisturbed and step back onto the sidewalk just to be sure.
My gaze shifts to the theater doors and my eyes burn into them.
The buyers came for a performance.
Tonight, they are getting one.
Just not the one they paid for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tyler’s gaze finds mine and without a word, signals for me to follow him around the side of the theater.
Together we move unseen along the theater’s exterior. The side is hidden from the street by overgrown hedges and ivy scaling the walls. An old metal staircase wraps around the building like a skeletal spine of oxidized steel.
A weather-beaten service entrance is wedged behind the bottom of the stairs, covered by years of oversight. The metal door is scarred with dents and scratches with faded paint strips flaking away.
Tyler takes point and closes his hand around the handle. He gives it a careful tug.
The latch clicks.
Honestly, I’m not surprised.
The people running this operation are so convinced they are untouchable that security has become an afterthought. In their minds, nobody knows what they are doing inside this theater.
The door swings outward without so much as a creak. Tyler slips through first. I follow close behind, and together we ease the door shut, shutting ourselves inside this fucking horror show.
The corridor is narrow and dimly lit, the weak light ofdisintegrating fixtures barely pushing back the darkness. Dust drifts through the air, disturbed by our presence. The scent of old wood, aged velvet, and decades of forgotten performances lingers around us.
Each footstep seems unnaturally loud in the silence. Every breath echoes in my ears. The entire theater feels frozen in time with ghosts of forgotten applause and buried sins.
The muffled strains of classical music seep through the walls. Somewhere nearby, men laugh, unknowingly fanning the flames of my rage.
At the end of the hallway, another door is partially open.
Tyler peers through first, then I step beside him and look.
The theater unfolds before us. My breath hitches.
It’s stunning in the cruelest way, a masterpiece built over suffering.
Row upon row of crimson velvet seats stretch toward the stage. There must be hundreds of them, yet every single seat is empty. The vacancy makes the theater feel even more unsettling.
An auditorium this large should be filled with conversation, laughter, and anticipation. Instead, it sits in eerie silence.
Golden balconies curve around the auditorium in sweeping tiers, their ornate railings gleaming beneath the chandelier light. Intricate scrollwork winds across every surface, the metal shaped into delicate patterns of vines, leaves, and flourishes that speak of a time when craftsmanship mattered more than cost. Private boxes line the balconies at regular intervals, each framed by polished columns and draped with rogue velvet. From below, the balconies resemble gilded crowns elevated above the theater floor.
Glittering chandeliers dominate the soaring ceiling. Hundreds of crystal prisms cascade from each fixture in shimmering tiers, capturing the light and breaking it into countless golden reflections. Dainty strands of crystal drape between curved brass arms, while intricate metalwork winds through the center of each chandelier in exquisite patterns. Any movement sends tiny flashes of light dancing across the burnished wood,regal balconies, and brass accents throughout the theater. The kind of chandeliers designed to draw the eye the instant someone enters the room.
The stage stands showcased by a bank of spotlights at the center of it all, pristine and awaiting. The dark hardwood shines, its surface smooth and immaculate despite the theater’s age. Lush crimson velvet curtains frame both sides, their heavy folds descend and pool in opulent waves. Gold trim borders the curtains, reflecting the light and adding to the stage’s grandeur.
The ceiling is lined with professional stage lighting, arranged in lines above the performance space. At the rear of the stage, heavy velvet drapery in deeper shades of red create a dramatic backdrop.
The detail is superb. It pretends to be a place built to celebrate art, which only makes the truth hiding inside it feel that much more grotesque.
