Chapter 4 4

The seaside terrace of The Onyx Room was windy. The salt spray coated the railing.

Aine stood alone in the corner, away from the heat lamps and the laughing crowd. Her dress whipped around her legs. She looked small. Lonely.

She heard the footsteps before she saw him.

Julian.

He was holding two glasses of champagne. He looked confident again. The embarrassment from the stage was gone, replaced by the thrill of the hunt.

"I was too forward earlier," he said, sliding up next to her. "Drink? As an apology."

Aine turned, pressing her back against the railing. She eyed him warily.

"Mr. Talley, please leave me alone."

"Call me Julian." He stepped closer. "Take off the mask. I want to see you."

"No. I'm not with him," Aine said. "I'm nobody's."

"Everyone belongs to someone." He put the glasses down on a table and moved in. He boxed her in against the railing. "You're shivering. Let me warm you up."

Aine looked down. Below them, the water of the harbor was black and churning. It was high tide.

She shifted her weight. She knew this spot. During her audition, she'd noticed the rusted bolt on this section of the railing. A little pressure was all it would take.

Julian reached for Aine's waist. His hand was heavy.

"Don't touch me!" Aine shouted.

She shoved him. It wasn't a hard shove, but she used the momentum to throw herself backward.

Aine hit the railing.

Crack.

The wood gave way.

Aine screamed. It was a genuine scream-gravity is terrifying, even when you plan for it.

She tumbled backward into the void.

"Siren!" Julian yelled.

Aine hit the water.

It was freezing. The shock punched the air out of her lungs. The cold was like a thousand needles stabbing her skin. She sank.

She didn't swim up immediately. She forced herself to stay under. One second. Two seconds. Three.

Up on the terrace, chaos erupted. Glass shattered. People screamed.

Julian stared at the black water. His face went pale. This wasn't a game anymore. If she died... the press... the police...

He didn't think. He jumped.

From the window of the VIP lounge above, Augustine watched the splash. He didn't move. He just tapped his finger against the glass.

"Idiot," he muttered.

Julian hit the water. He flailed until he found Aine. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to the surface.

They gasped for air, coughing up salt water.

Security guards were already at the dock, pulling them out. Aine collapsed onto the wooden planks, shaking violently. Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw ached.

Julian was panting, his expensive suit ruined. He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around Aine's shoulders.

"Call an ambulance!" he roared at the guards.

Aine grabbed his wet shirt. Her fingers were blue.

"No," she wheezed. "No police... please... I can't lose this job. Please."

Julian looked down at Aine. She looked like a drowned rat. Pathetic. Fragile. And she was worried about her job after almost dying.

Something broke in his eyes. The predator vanished. The savior appeared.

"Get my car," he ordered the valet. "No ambulance. No police."

He scooped Aine up in his arms.

"You're not going to lose your job," he promised. "I've got you."

From the shadows, Sierrah, the headliner vocalist, watched with eyes full of hate. Her nails dug into her palms.

Augustine watched from the window as Julian carried Aine to his car.

"Should we stop them?" Mercer asked.

"No," Augustine said, turning away. "Let's see how long she can keep the act up."

Inside Julian's sports car, the heater blasted hot air. Aine curled into the passenger seat, wrapped in his jacket.

Julian looked at Aine. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I... I didn't mean for that to happen."

Aine looked at him through wet lashes.

Guilt, she thought. The strongest leash in the world.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.