Page 38 of Secrets in the Dark

"The nature of reality," Val continued, "is merely a consensus of perception. When that perception shifts..."

She gestured for me to enter the cabinet. I stepped inside, taking my position as rehearsed. The interior was cramped but familiar, lined with the mechanisms that would allow my "disappearance" once Val closed the doors.

"Still no visual," Roman's voice came through the earpiece, tighter now, more urgent. "Nova, he's not in the audience anymore."

The doors sealed with a theatrical click—then blackness swallowed me. According to the routine, I had fifteen seconds to trigger the hidden panel and slide beneath the cabinet while a hologram created the illusion of my continued presence inside.

I felt for the release latch, found it, and pressed. The panel slid open with a whisper of well-oiled hinges.

That's when I felt it—warm breath against my neck, carrying the faint scent of expensive cologne and ash.

"Hello, Celia," Tommy's voice slithered into my ear, his hand clamping over my mouth before I could scream. "Time for your curtain call."

Terror froze me for a critical second—long enough for him to drag me backward through the darkness beneath the stage. His arm locked around my throat, crushing my airway as he pulled me deeper into the backstage labyrinth.

"Roman," I tried to whisper, but Tommy's grip tightened.

"Your cop won't reach you in time," he hissed, hauling me through a service corridor I'd never seen before. "Security's been instructed to keep him busy elsewhere."

We emerged into a dimly lit storage area stacked with old set pieces and unused props. Tommy shoved me forward, and I stumbled against a rack of costumes, gasping for breath as the metallic taste of fear flooded my mouth.

"Roman!" I managed to choke out. "Backstage storage—he's here!"

"I hear you," Roman's voice came through, steady and focused. "Keep him talking. I'm coming."

Tommy circled me slowly, a predator savoring the moment before the kill. In the half-light, his features sharpened into something inhuman—all hard angles and cold calculation. The shadows carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, turning his face skull-like.

"You thought you were so clever," he said, withdrawing something from his jacket. Metal gleamed—a knife with a blade that caught what little light filtered into the room. "Hiding behind sequins and stage makeup. Did you think I wouldn't recognize the woman who destroyed my family?"

"I did my job," I replied, inching backward toward a shelf of prop cages. One hand slid to my pocket, finding the pouch of flash powder Riley had given me. "Your brother broke the law. The evidence was there."

"The evidence YOU found," Tommy spat, advancing with the knife. "The little nobody legal assistant who spotted what nobody else could see. Do you know what they're doing to Vincent in prison? What happens to a man of respect when the system strips him of everything?"

I kept moving, creating distance, buying seconds. Through my earpiece, I could hear Roman's rapid breathing as he ran.

"Turn left at the next junction," I heard Val say—she must have intercepted Roman in the corridors. "Storage is straight ahead."

Tommy lunged, and I dodged, the knife slicing air where I'd stood a heartbeat before. My hand closed around the flash powder. I'd get one chance—I had to make it count.

"You can't escape, Celia," Tommy's voice dropped to a silky whisper. "I've been watching you for weeks. I know how you move, how you think. I was in your apartment, remember? I've seen where you sleep."

He advanced again, backing me toward a metal cage filled with mechanical doves for Val's finale. I let him push me closer to the wall, watching for my moment. The scent of dust and old fabric filled my nostrils as the distance between us narrowed.

"You don't have to do this," I said, playing for time. "Your brother's case is on appeal. There are legal ways—"

"Legal?" Tommy laughed, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. "Like the 'legal' way you helped lock him up? No. The Licata family handles justice our way."

He lunged again, and this time I was ready. I flung the flash powder directly at his face, the chemicals igniting on contact with air. A blinding white explosion filled the storage room, accompanied by a concussive bang that momentarily disoriented us both.

Tommy howled, hands flying to his eyes. I didn't waste the advantage, bolting past him toward the exit. The corridor stretched ahead, a confusing maze of turns and doors.

"Right at the junction," Roman directed through the earpiece. "Then immediate left."

I ran, hearing Tommy's furious footsteps behind me. The midnight-blue corset restricted my breathing, making each gasping inhale a struggle. Without slowing, I yanked the quick-release cord at my hip. The corset loosened instantly, allowing my lungs to expand fully.

"He's closing," Roman warned. "Duck into the next doorway on your right. Costume storage. There's another exit on the far side."

I followed his instructions, bursting into a room lined with racks of elaborate costumes from past productions. Feathers, sequins, and fabrics in every color created a kaleidoscopic jungle to navigate. The air smelled of mothballs and fabric preservative.

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