I peek around the corner.

There's a girl down there smoking a cigarette.

"Hey!" I call. "Who the f**k are you?"

She slides her shades down her nose and blows out a ring of smoke. "None of your f**king business. Where's Spencer?"

And then it hits me, this is the other model Spencer used. His ex-girlfriend. "Veronica?"

"Who's askin'?"

I run down the stairs and she spots the knife and starts backing up. "Hey, look—"

"Shhhh," I say. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Door was open."

"No, the door was not open, we're on lockdown."

"It was open," she snorts at me. "And if you try anything with that knife, I've got a gun in my purse and my shooting instructor says I'm the best natural shot he's ever seen."

"You do! Oh, thank God. Get it out, Please. There's a crazy guy in the building, Veronica. He's gonna kill me, please get out your gun!"

"What's going on—"

"Rookie!"

I spin around, the bile in my stomach already exiting my mouth. Green shit splashes across the floor and I cough, my whole body shaking just from the sound of his voice.

"I've been looking for you, baby."

Veronica's backing away from my vomit, screaming obscenities at me.

"Run!" I scream back. And then, because she's got a gun and I don't, I grab her hand and head for the door. She resists for a moment but my panic is contagious. I throw the door open praying that someone, anyone, one of those f**king camera stalkers that have been around all damn summer, is within hearing distance. I scream, "Help!"

I'm still tugging her behind me, but her shock is wearing off as I get to the first landing between the fourth and third floors and she plants he feet firmly on the floor. And I just know, if I save this girl, I'll die. So I yank at her purse as Jon comes into view above us. She resists. "Let go of my purse!" she screams at me. So I let go and run down the stairs, then dash into the art studio. I figure that's where Spencer is, packing up his shit, but when I get in there it's pitch black.

And now I'm trapped.

I stumble across the floor, tripping over some light cords, fall on my face, scramble to my feet, and fall again, then settle for crawling towards the back of Spencer's space.

I scramble around the partition that served as my changing room all summer, then lean back against the back wall, desperately trying to silence my gasping breaths. I can hear Veronica and Jon fighting out in the hallway, she's bitching him out, and then a gun goes off and I have to cup my own hand around my mouth to shut myself up.

Chapter Thirty-Four - ROOK

The gunshot is still echoing through my ears and the smell of powder invading my nose when I catch the creak of the door opening. I almost shit myself this time. I clamp my mouth shut and pinch one side of my nose together just like that cop did when I had my panic attack.

If I panic now, I die.

I die.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, listening for footsteps at the same time. I can hear them, but they are not coming towards me, they are walking over towards Director Larry's station.

The lights come on and laughter is blaring through the speakers on the other side of the room.

"Funny, Rook," Ford's voice says.

"You know what's funnier?" my voice says. "The fact that all you dumbasses got the joke. I know what you're reading at night."

He's been watching me since I started this job. He's been here since the very beginning. He probably tapped into the camera system. He saw everything, he saw me standing naked in this room, five days a week for the last three months.

A slow clap sounds off from the crew station. "Very nice, Rookie. You look very nice in that bikini. Oh, no wait. That's not clothing, that's paint. You're posing nude for these sick freaks. I always knew you were a whore."

The vomit wants to come up again, but I swallow hard and keep very, very still—and I'd like to say quiet as well. But my breathing betrays me. In my own head my breath sounds like a raging tornado. The talking covers up most of it, but it also covers up Jon's footsteps.

I have no idea where he is.

Please, Ronin. Please, please—find me!

"I know you're still in here, Rookie. I'm going to take you home now. We can work this out. Of course, there's a price to pay. And you know, I'm always sorry about that, but you're mine. And you make me do those things. Those terrible, terrible things."

He is closer now. I can't hear his steps, but his voice is near. By the couch Ronin and Ford sit on when I'm being painted. I sit up on my haunches, ready to spring up if he finds me, fisting the knife handle.

Something goes crashing across the room, Spencer's artist lights smashing to the ground, shattering, more things go flying and something hits the partition in front of me.

It shakes.

And he laughs.

"Clever little Rookie. You always tried to hide, but you were never very good at it, were you."

I whimper.

"That's right, love. I've caught you. But I'll make you a deal. You come out and say you're sorry, and I'll wait until we get home to teach you a lesson."

I'm nodding. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm nodding! I shake my head and grip the knife harder. Then I stand up.

I can see him over the partition.