I jolted awake, breathless and trembling. "Stop, I said stop. DON'T CHASE ME. Stay away." The words still echoed in my mind, lingering like smoke after a fire. My eyes snapped open, but the nightmare clung to me, heavy and suffocating. I reached out, fumbling to silence the alarm. The clock read 3:30 a.m. Darkness pressed against the windows, silent and cold.
I pushed off the covers, my body sluggish with the residue of fear. The shower's chill was my salvation. I stood under the cascading water, chanting softly, "I am safe. I am secure. I am healthy. The universe protects me." Each word was a thread I wove around myself, a shield against shadows I couldn't name. I didn't know why I repeated these words every day, but they were my ritual, my tether to reality.
In the mirror, my hazel-brown eyes stared back at me, a shadow of redness lingering in their depths. I forced a smile. "Good morning, Lina." My voice sounded foreign, thin. I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply. When I opened them again, the redness had faded. The mirror offered no comfort, but it offered truth.
I dressed with precision. Black turtleneck, black straight pants, a beige trench coat draped over my shoulders. The familiar weight of Chanel earrings and bracelets anchored me. My hair was pulled back tight, controlled, like the emotions I kept under lock and key.
A knock. Sarah. I opened the door to find her and Miles standing ready, four massive suitcases at their feet. Sarah wore a white crop top and denim jeans, a contrast to Miles' casual black t-shirt and jeans. Yin and yang.
"Did you pack the clothes in sequence?" I asked.
Sarah nodded. "Yes. It's 4:30 a.m. We're early."
"You and Miles will take separate cars. Luca sent them." My words lingered, heavier than they should. They knew about the secret code Addison created six years ago. A silent language for when danger lurked unseen.
"Wait two minutes. Let me grab my boots."
Black sock boots. My Chanel Cambon Linge bag. The door locked behind me. "Let's go."
Jennifer's room buzzed with the hum of preparation. The makeup artist hovered over her like a painter over a canvas. I sat beside her, my voice calm. "Jennie, I have to leave after the first two sequences. Another assistant will handle the final one. It's all arranged."
Her eyes narrowed. "Last time, you promised you'd stay."
"We're 85% done with your MV shooting. If I can, I'll be back by evening for the last sequence. But I can't promise."
She knew me. Two years of knowing I didn't walk away unless I had to. She nodded, tight-lipped. "Okay."
I smiled, a promise without words. By the time her hair and makeup were done, she was ethereal. Draped in a blue embroidered floral gown, a white pearl shrug over her shoulders, her straight hair framing her elegant face. Perfection.
"You look beautiful," someone whispered.
Jennifer laughed lightly, catching my gaze. "You think so?"
"You look good, Jennie." Simple. Honest.
A knock at the door. Her manager's voice urgent. "Ten minutes till sunrise! We need to go!"
Heels clicked on the floor as Jennifer left, determination in her step. Sarah and I followed, the air sharp with tension. The director and cameraman were ready. Test shots, sunlight breaking through the lobby. The lakeside location was prepped. We moved as one, a machine of creativity and chaos.
The first sequence flowed effortlessly. Jennie glowed, framed by golden rays. The second sequence was darker. A black, transparent puff dress, crystal embellishments shimmering like midnight stars. Her hair tied in a half-messy bun, bold makeup casting her into an ethereal shadow.
As the camera captured her, I received a text. Veronica. Waiting in the lobby.
When I reached the lobby, she handed me the keys and I took her to the restaurant. Jennie and her manager were waiting for me. I introduced them to Veronica and sent her the document and sequence of last quarter's shoot. I and Veronica worked together for Milan Fashion Week. She's Luca one of the trusted people, I know she will handle this smoothly.
Time ticked on. 10:20 a.m. My next location called. I moved to the entrance where Sarah and Miles waited. Tossed the car key to Miles. The plan was in motion.
The parking lot gleamed with two black Mercedes Benzes. Miles handed me a tactical ear gadget. "Cover me," I said. They nodded. Silent agreement. I slipped into my car, mask on, bag thrown to the passenger seat.
Navigation set. Tactical earbuds in. Sarah's voice crackled through. She was already busy, hacking into the hotel's security system. Ten minutes later, I walked into the lobby, fake ID in hand. A smooth transaction. A new room card. Another identity.
Upstairs, I knocked. No answer. A whisper in my ear. "Boss, the system's hacked. Scan your card."
The door clicked open. The scene inside turned my blood to ice. Glass shattered across the floor. Bloodstains dark and ominous. My gaze snagged on a golden bracelet one I had given to our youngest team member. He had been here. He had bled here.
I stepped forward, heart hammering. Movement. The bathroom door creaked. My hand closed around a broken vase. Weapon. Defense. Before I could act, the door swung open.
And the nightmare about to began again.