Page 217 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“I called her just now, and she sounds… weird.”

I hear rustling in the background and Oscar’s voice next to hers.

“What did he say?” I ask, straining my ears.

“Oscar says she’s fine.”

She’s fine. I hate that fucking word.

“Tell him, Natalie.” I suddenly hear Oscar say.

“Tell me what?”

“Oscar, I don’t know if Briar wants him to worry.”

“Tell him.”

“What the fuck? Worry about what? Tell me what is happening!”

I can hear the sound of the phone passing between hands, followed by Oscar’s sighs.

“Hey, man,” Oscar says. “Listen, I’m going to tell you something, but please don’t worry. Just know that Natalie’s family doctor is taking good care of her.”

My insides turn cold. Don’t worry? Doctor?

An invisible fist wraps around my throat as I fight to say, “What the fuck are you talking about, Oscar?”

“Briar’s been attacked in broad daylight yesterday during her daily jog. She had a mild concussion, but she’s safe and fine —”

“Where is she?”

“Dude, I told you, she’s fine.”

“Oscar. Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?”

“Rurik, calm down—”

“TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK BRIAR IS, OSCAR! NOW!”

“Jesus... Okay! She’s staying at the Rogers Medical Center. But Rurik, it’s guarded. She’s safe—”

“Tell the guards I’ll be there tonight. Early morning at the latest.”

“What? Wait, Rurik—”

I hang up, already packing my luggage.

*-*-*-*

I had to pay off some asshole to fly me back to New York because my stepdad made up some excuse that his private jet wasn’t available.

I told him there was an emergency and that I needed to go home. He kept pushing, asking what the emergency was. All I could think about was going home and seeing Briar for myself, so I confessed that I had a girlfriend who was in trouble and needed to take care of her. I didn’t tell him Briar’s name, but he had this weird look — almost slimy and satisfied, which doesn’t make sense to me because he doesn’t know Briar.

Well, Briar without a mask. But I didn’t think anything of it because my mind focused solely on returning to Briar.

And now I’m here. After nearly punching my way through the guards — Drake Rogers and, surprisingly, his wife, whom I had never met, showed up to make sure I was me and not whoever attacked her.

But, I’m here now. And I can’t stop looking at her.

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