Page 98 of The Viper
Something was coming—I could feel it, that same itch I'd had in China before things went sideways. But she'd made her call, and I had to respect it.
Noah and I headed out, the morning sun glaring off the black SUV as we climbed in. The city stretched out beside the road, its surface calm, deceptive, like it was holding its breath.
Lexi's face lingered in my mind, that guarded look haunting me. Whatever she was holding back, I'd find out. But first, we had a lead to chase, and I wasn't about to let it slip.
As we pulled onto the road, Noah glanced over. "You good?"
"Yeah," I lied, my eyes on the horizon. "Let's find this bastard."
33
LEXI
The set looked exactly like it should—bright, clean, calm—and that, somehow, made it worse.
The cameras were already in position, sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the old house we’d rented for filming. Someone had scattered fake rose petals along the floor for the morning scene. The air smelled like coffee and fresh paint. Nothing about it was different than usual, but everything inside of me was.
Lucas had changed me.
That thought hit as I stood near the vanity, the hum of crew chatter in the background. My reflection stared back, all flawless skin and practiced poise, but I barely recognized her. I’d been touched by something raw and real—something that made this world of carefully choreographed emotions feel paper-thin.
“Morning, superstar.”
I looked up to find Carrie behind me, a coffee in each hand, her curls half hidden under a baseball cap. “Extra shot,” she said, offering one. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
“Because I didn’t,” I murmured, taking the cup. I’d already had coffee at Dominion Hall, but I needed more. “Thanks.”
At least, it wasn’t an early call time. The shoot had been pushed back a few hours—some small mercy in a week that had offered very few. Normally, I’d be on set before sunrise, pretending to be bright-eyed while someone fussed with lighting. Today, I was grateful for the extra time to breathe, even if breathing still felt like work.
After the day off from production yesterday and the late start this morning, coming back felt strange, like stepping into a dream that hadn’t stopped while I was gone.
“Uh-huh.” Carrie’s tone was dry, knowing. “I take it that’s not because of nerves?”
I shot her a look in the mirror. “Do you ever not pry?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “It’s one of my few joys.”
Despite myself, I smiled. Carrie had been my shadow through a dozen productions. She’d held my hand through panic attacks, powdered my nose between takes, and told off producers who treated me badly. She knew me better than most people ever would.
Still, I couldn’t tell her the full truth about Lucas. Not really. Not yet. It was too much, and I was still processing.
I sipped my coffee and tried to focus on the set around me. Crew members adjusted light rigs. Benji’s stand-in laughed with a PA. The rhythm of production pulsed steady and familiar—but beneath it ran a different current. Fear.
Security officers stood at every entrance now. A van from the private firm Noah had hired was parked outside. Their presence should have comforted me, but it didn’t. Because I knew what it was like to be watched—and this was just another kind of surveillance.
“Where’s Hannah?” Carrie asked, breaking my thoughts.
“She’s on her way,” I said. My voice came out steady, but inside, the memory of her whisper echoed:It’s gone too far. Someone’s going to get hurt.
Carrie nodded, glancing around. “You okay being here? I mean, after what happened to your sister?”
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to sound brave. “I have to be.”
She studied me a moment longer, then nodded and turned back to her makeup kit. “Let’s make you camera-ready then.”
The familiar ritual helped. Primer. Foundation. The brush of powder against my skin. Step by step, she rebuilt the version of me the world expected. I’d been doing this for years—constructing Lexi Montgomery, Hollywood’s darling, one perfectly blended illusion at a time.
“Lexi!”
