Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Halfway through her first walk, a stagehand brushes past too close. I tense. "Corbett, eyes on the tech crew."
"Copy."
Indigo poses, and the crowd cheers. She's electric. And me? I'm all in.
The finale nears—pyros ready. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Cass. I answer low. "Talk."
"Rico Hale—band bassist. Linked to Derek Voss. Old buddies from a photoshoot gig years back. And get this: Viola's van? Repair shop confirms it was sabotaged. Cut lines."
Fuck. "She's clean, but he's not?"
"Possibly using her. Or she's in on it. Stay alert. I'm sending backup."
"Show's live. Handle quietly."
Indigo's back onstage, finale cue. Confetti preps. My gut screams.
"Enzo, hold pyro!" I bark into comms, already moving.
Too late. Burst fires—confetti rains. But mixed in: something glints. Shrapnel?
I lunge, tackling Indigo off the runway as screams erupt. It’s pure chaos.
"Corbett—secure perimeter! Cass, it's go time."
My heart pounds with her in my arms. "You okay?"
She nods, wide-eyed. "Mack..."
"I got you."
NINE
INDIGO
The world explodes into pandemonium—screams ripping through the air, lights strobing wildly, confetti swirling like a blizzard mixed with something sharper, deadlier. One second I'm on the runway, striking my finale pose in the spotlight, feeling invincible with Mack's eyes on me from the wings. The next, his massive body slams into mine, tackling me off the stage like a human shield. We hit the ground hard, his arms caging me protectively, his breath hot against my ear, "I got you."
But then chaos swallows us whole. People surge everywhere. Models scramble backstage. The crew shouts as audience members bolt for the exits. Alarms blare, piercing and relentless. Mack's weight lifts off me as he rolls to his feet, gun drawn, scanning the frenzy. "Indigo, stay down!" he bellows, but a stampede of panicked VIPs crashes between us, shoving me sideways. I reach for him, fingers grazing his sleeve, but bodies flood the gap, and suddenly he's gone, swallowed by the madness.
"Mack!" I yell, heart slamming against my ribs. What the hell is happening? Was that real shrapnel in the confetti? My mind races but it's all a blur. I scramble up, robe half-off, lingerie exposed, but who cares? Fear claws at my throat, cold and sharp. I need to find him. He's my anchor in this nightmare, the grump who's become my everything in such a short amount of time. God, I'm falling so hard—his dirty whispers this morning, his rare smiles, the way he protects me like I'm his world. I can't lose him now.
Pushing through the crowd, I dodge a toppling light rig, my bare feet slipping on scattered petals and glitter. "Viola!" I shout instinctively—my sister's out there somewhere. Front row. If this is targeted at me, she could be in danger too.
A hand grabs my arm. I whirl, ready to fight, but it's Viola, her face pale, eyes wide with panic. "Indie! Come on, we gotta get out!"
"Vi!" Relief floods me, but it's short-lived. I clutch her hand, pulling her toward what I think is a side exit. "Where's Mack? Did you see him?"
"Who? Your bodyguard guy? No—everything went to shit!" She's shaking, her leather jacket askew, but she tugs me along. The crowd thins as we veer into a service corridor, away from the main hall. It's dimmer here, emergency lights flickering. My pulse thunders—something's wrong. It’s too quiet. "This way. There's a door!"
We burst through, into a loading dock alley behind the venue. Cool night air hits my skin, but before I can gasp in relief, shadows detach from the walls. Men—three of them, hooded, moving fast. One's familiar… Rico, Vi's bassist from the band. Tall, tattooed arms, that sleazy grin I've seen in her tour photos. What the—?
"Grab 'em!" Rico snarls, voice low and vicious. His goons lunge, and one clamps a hand over Viola's mouth, hauling her backward. The other seizes me by the waist, lifting me like I'm nothing. I kick wildly, nails raking his arm. "Get off me! Help!"
"Shut her up," Rico growls, zip-tying Vi's wrists as she struggles. "He wants 'em both."
He? Derek? Someone working with Lila? My mind spins, terror icing my veins. This is it—the stalker. And Rico's in on it? Betraying my sister? Anger boils over the fear—how dare he? I elbow my captor hard, hearing him grunt, but he's too strong. They drag us toward a black van idling at the curb, doors yawning open like a mouth.
"No!" I scream, trying my best to twist out of his grip. Viola's muffled cries break my heart. She's terrified, eyes pleading with me. I hold her gaze, squeezing her hand one last time before they wrench us apart. "Vi, it's okay… hold on!"
As they shove me toward the van, my hair ribbon loosens—a red satin thing from wardrobe. I yank it free discreetly, letting it flutter to the ground behind me. A breadcrumb. Mack's smart. He'll find it. He has to. Tears sting my eyes. I’m scared, so damn scared, but I cling to hope. He's coming. My protector, my lover. I've fallen in love with him—the way he growls my name, and how he holds me like I'm precious. I need to see him again, feel his arms, hear him promise it'll be okay.