Page 111 of The Viper
Benji froze, hands raised. “Hey, man, easy.”
Franklin’s voice boomed from somewhere down the hall. “What the hell is going on?”
“Get everyone out,” Benji shouted. “Now!”
The set exploded into chaos again—people screaming, scrambling for the exits.
He dragged me toward the side door, his grip iron. “We’re leaving,” he muttered. “You and me, Miss Movie Star.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He laughed softly. “Shut up and walk, princess.”
Rage flooded through me, so sharp it steadied my fear. “You son of a bitch.”
I drove my knee up, hard. He doubled over, the gun jolting from my ribs. I twisted, slamming my cuffed hands down on his wrist, trying to knock the weapon loose. It clattered to the floor, skidding.
“Benji!” I yelled.
He was already moving. He lunged for the gun—but the imposter kicked it first, sending it spinning under a shelf. Then he caught Benji with a punch that made the sound of bone on bone. Benji went down hard, groaning.
I tried to run again, but he grabbed the chain between the cuffs, yanking me back. Pain shot through my shoulders. I hit the wall, stars bursting behind my eyes.
“Stop fighting,” he snapped.
“Go to hell.”
His hand closed around my throat, not tight enough to cut off air—just enough to make the threat clear.
Carrie’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere beyond the corridor. “Police are coming!”
He smiled. “Then we better finish the scene.”
He dragged me deeper into the house.
My heart kicked hard. This was it.
Every survival instinct I had screamed at once. The self-defense training I’d taken years ago—at the studio’s insistence after a fan broke into my trailer—flashed through my mind in brutal clarity.Never let them take you to a second location.That line had been repeated like gospel, the instructor’s voice sharp enough to cut through panic. If they moved you, the odds of getting home alive plummeted. Fight. Run. Bite. Scream. Doanythingbefore you let them put you somewhere you couldn’t be found. I couldn’t let him take me. No matter what.
A wave of cold ran through me. The doorway behind the man looked smaller now, the world shrinking to the space between us. He had all the power of momentum on his side, but I still had my voice. My wits. My will to live.
And God, I wanted to live.
Not just survive this moment, but everything after it—the mornings at Dominion Hall when the light hit the water just right, the smell of coffee and salt air, the sound of Lucas’s laugh against my skin. The future we hadn’t fully spoken out loud yet but both knew was coming. I could see it: a quiet life, a porch somewhere far from the chaos, two dogs, a garden, peace.
I wasn’t ready to lose any of that. Not to anyone.
“Listen,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever this is, we can fix it. I know people?—”
“Yeah,” he said, shoving me forward. “Like Santa Claus?”
He yanked the next door open, motioning with the gun. “Go.”
I didn’t move.
“Now.”
“No.”
