Page 40 of The Viper
Lucas’s expression didn’t change. “Appreciate it. We’ll handle our end.”
Norton’s gaze flicked back to Benji and me, softer now. “We’ll tighten things up around here, folks. Whoever this guy was, sounds like he wasn’t just a random fan.”
My stomach dropped. “You think it’s serious?”
“Too soon to say,” he replied. “But we’ll find out.”
He moved on to question the crew, leaving me standing beside Lucas, the air thick with adrenaline and the faint scent of danger.
Benji was talking to medics now, brushing off the fuss, but his usual easy charm looked frayed. A bruise was already forming along his jaw.
Lucas’s hand brushed my arm—steady, grounding. “You okay?”
I nodded, though my voice felt far away when I said, “Yeah. Just … shaken.”
His eyes held mine. “You’re safe.”
I believed him. I didn’t know why, but I did.
Franklin called for an extended break—longer than usual—muttering about people needing to “get their heads on straight” before he’d roll another frame. “We’ll pick up again in an hour,” he said, already pacing toward his monitor.
Crew scattered in every direction, some lighting cigarettes, others on their phones, everyone pretending not to be rattled. Benji’s team gathered around him with ice packs and bottled water. The police cars finally pulled away, leaving behind the faint scent of exhaust and tension that clung to the humid air.
When it was just us—me, Lucas, and the whisper of the marsh through the reeds—I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. The world felt too quiet now, the chaos replaced by the slow thrum of adrenaline that refused to fade.
“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?” I asked softly. “People showing up. Losing it.”
Lucas’s gaze stayed on the water, his jaw flexing once before he spoke. “Not usually. But when it does …” He shook his head. “It can get ugly fast.”
I tried to laugh, but the sound came out thin. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He looked back at me then, eyes steady, voice low. “No. Just telling you the truth.”
I nodded slowly, arms wrapping around myself. “It’s never happened on a shoot I’ve been part of. At least, not that I knew about. Maybe people were just good at keeping it from me.”
“Probably,” he said. Then, after a pause: “This isn’t my usual kind of gig, either.”
That caught my attention. “Meaning?”
He shrugged one shoulder, gaze still fixed on the horizon. “I’m used to higher stakes. Different kind of protection. More guns, less glam.”
I studied him for a beat. “So, why take this job?”
His mouth curved faintly. “Let’s just say it wasn’t about the scenery.”
I looked at him for a long moment, the weight of the morning pressing down. The image of Benji bleeding. The echo of Lucas’s kiss still on my lips. The questions I didn’t dare ask.
“Lucas,” I said softly.
“Yeah?”
“If this is what my life looks like now …”
He took a step closer, his hand hovering near my waist but not touching. “Then you’re going to need someone who knows how to protect it.”
The words were simple, but the way he said them—low, certain, threaded with something dangerous—sent a pulse of heat straight through me.
I should have been scared.
