Chapter Twenty-Seven Evie
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Evie
I can hear myself breathing because, no, I didn’t see that coming.
Chase squeezes my hand, centering me, and I give him a squeeze back.
“She’s shocked,” Devin says, putting his chin on his brother’s shoulder as they both stare at me.
My mind is working overtime because I don’t understand . . . What are they doing here? How . . .
“She is,” Derek answers. “What a moment.” He breaks out into applause, extending his hands as if it’s for me.
“What’s happening?” I rush out, trying to process what I’m seeing.
Chase starts to speak, but Devin holds up a gun around his brother’s arm and points it at him.
“Shh, this is her moment. No cheating and feeding her lines. You already know the plot.”
Fuck. He shot Goldie. How are my Double D’s the people who set us up? Because clearly they have.
“I don’t understand . . . You’re working with Remus? Why? What did we ever do to you? I thought we were—”
Devin lifts his head off Derek’s shoulder and goes back to his side.
“Were you going to say friends?” He slaps Derek’s shoulder while still gripping the gun. “I told you she really likes us.”
“I’m ashamed I doubted it,” Derek levels. “But authenticity is rare in this business. Look at us, always having to sneak around and hide our affection for the macabre.”
He reaches into his back pocket, tugging out the fucking Texas Chainsaw Massacre–style flesh mask of Remus, and pulls it over his head. He holds up his hands as he shifts the face back and forth between me and his brother.
Devin lifts the gun, putting it under his chin, pretending to shoot himself as he says, “It’s macabre, for sure. A lost art, really.”
I grimace. “You’re crazy. You’ve been working together with a guy who faked his death to try and kill us all? That’s not macabre. It’s psycho.”
They look at each other before Devin reaches for his brother’s cheek, patting the mask.
“I know . . . I was rooting for her to get the twist too. But give her a minute—I told you that storyline needed more fleshing out. And you’re going to hate me for saying this, but I still think there’s something elegant and sexy about the villain’s monologue. ”
“Storyline? This is entertainment to you?”
My head feels like it’s going to explode as I volley between Chase and the guys, desperate for some explanation, but more so hoping Chase is quietly trying to figure a way out of here. He gives me a small shake of his head before his eyes tick to the other side of the room.
Derek pulls off Remus, dropping it to the floor.
“Evie. Catch up,” he snaps. “You’re smarter than this. There is no Remus—he died the first time around.”
I can’t even process what they’re saying, but I cut him off. “I don’t understand . . . because I saw him . . .”
“Or you saw what we wanted you to see,” Devin offers.
I stare down at the mask on the floor and back at them as silence fills the room.
Oh my god.
They were the ones who first told me about the footage. They led me to it. Son of a bitch.
A thousand thoughts race through my mind, and they’re heavy and suffocating as I think through all the little things I missed—their curiosity with my history, the way they never even flinched when I got scared that day on set, or how I only saw one of them at a time before Chase went missing.
They have access to my phone, to all our numbers, because I gave them my code.
Jesus, I made it so easy for them to get to us. Holy fuck.
“But why?” I whisper, fear coursing through me.
They smile. But it’s different from the countless other times I’ve seen them do it. There’s no light behind either of their eyes. It’s as if whatever mask they’ve had on is gone.
Devin presses the corner of his lip between his teeth, using the barrel of the gun as he tilts his head.
“Because every thriller needs a good bait and switch.”
My brows draw together. They’re talking like it’s a . . .
Chase’s voice finishes my thought.
“They’re making a movie,” he says quietly, garnering a tsk from Devin before the gun is aimed at his head.
“Stop fucking up my script. I’m a writer, Chase.
We hate last-minute changes.” Devin’s voice is strained with anger as he stabs the gun forward.
“You already committed that offense once when you showed up at the restaurant, and this makes two. Another, and she’ll be picking brains out of those braids for days. ”
Derek piggybacks on what he says. “Don’t you see? We made it up. We sent the email to Goldie . . . and doctored the video. She doesn’t even have a brother. It was just the right amount of drama and suspense. Especially since we secured this set.”
He motions around as it all starts to fall into place.
They’re not just villains. They’re the producers of fear. Because while the idea of Remus after us is horrifying, he’s the devil I knew. This is something I could’ve never imagined.
Devin takes a deep breath, locking his eyes on me. “It all happened really organically . . . We were just in the right place at the right time.”
“Destiny, if you will,” Derek adds before they begin taking turns to unveil this horror.
“Because we were there . . . two years ago, at the camp.”
“Saw it all . . . every gruesome detail.”
“It was inspiring. Seeing a monster like Billy, live and in action. Wow.”
“The bar was set. It was better than any slasher film before it,” Derek says, before he shivers like he’s excited.
Sick fucks. They’re fans. Horror enthusiasts with just the right amount of psychosis to want to ruin our lives . . . again.
What the fuck.
Devin wags his eyebrows. “We actually got some of our first footage of you that night. It’s amateur camerawork, but we’ve gotten way better since then.” He looks at his brother, his eyes wild. “Show her.”
Derek pulls out his phone, turning it around to face me.
My brows furrow because I’m suddenly watching myself inside Goldie’s house . . . but from the outside. It’s the day I first came home to Chase cooking.
I shake my head because I feel blindsided. They’ve been fucking watching us.
He swipes to a new video, but it’s him holding dead rats above my bed, teasing Princess. “Whoops, not that one.” He swipes to another. It’s me and Chase the night we almost kissed at his restaurant.
“Show her my favorite . . .” Devin whispers.
I’m squeezing the fuck out of Chase’s hand because rage has replaced the shock.
They’ve been pulling strings since the beginning. This role—the girl who has panic attacks, the one still afraid of the dark—she’s been nurtured. Groomed for this performance.
But I’m not that girl anymore. That’s their fatal flaw. It’s what all horror movies do wrong. They make the woman a victim, someone defined by her fear, and then some dude comes to save her.
Not this time, fuckers.
Chase gave me the space to heal myself, but I saved me. I found the tools and the will. And now I’m going to use that rage to kill these two assholes.
I’m nobody’s victim.
Cinderella’s saving the prince and getting the hell out of here.
My eyes shift back to the screen, watching myself leading Chase to the bathroom at my fucking sister’s wedding.
The couple on the screen is laughing, but the couple standing here is murderous.
He ends the video, turning his phone back around.
“It gets rated R after that, and we don’t know who’s watching right now.”
He points up, and my eyes follow. There’s a tiny red dot by the ceiling. It’s a camera.
My pulse is thrumming so fast I can almost hear it as my blood turns to ice, but not out of fear.
Derek smirks at me. “You’re live . . . Well, not totally. It’s set for the world to see in one hour. Don’t you love technology? This is what sets us apart from other movies. Because, frankly, after watching One Killer Night, we knew we could do it better.”
“No offense,” Devin throws out, but Chase scoffs.
I throw my hand over his mouth to make sure he doesn’t speak. He looks ready to fucking end it all, but I shake my head.
We did not almost drown to have our dead bodies thrown back in.
Derek crosses his arms with a big nod of his head. “Easy, big guy. We’re not being rude to her. So protective.” He winks. “We just wanted to be the first people to make a sequel better than the original.”
“This is so beyond twisted. It’s pure evil.”
“And evil is forever, Evie,” Devin barks. “This is our legacy. Nobody will ever beat it. Name another movie in history that people get to buy tickets to the live ending. We’re revolutionary.”
“No, you’re certified. What is this . . . daddy issues? Mommy issues? Your nanny not give you enough attention? You think you’ll get away with killing us.” I point to the camera. “You’re supplying the evidence for the electric chairs. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you sit next to each other.”
Devin points at me with the gun, making my body tense as he shouts, “This is why I loved her for this, Derek. Such passion. She’s feisty, and honestly, there isn’t enough strong female representation in film anymore. Hollywood hates women.”
Chase tries to pull me behind him, but I won’t move.
“Me too . . .” Derek hangs out there like he’s waiting for us to get the joke, before rolling his eyes. “Y’know . . . the movement . . . it’s a play on words? For fuck’s sake, I love women. I’m an ally.”
“You’re trying to kill me,” I level.
Derek’s head draws back before he looks at his brother. “Tell her.”
Devin shrugs his shoulders a few times like he’s excited. “See, the thing is, Evie . . . only one person lives . . . and it’s not any of the rest of us.”
I swallow, feeling like I’m in an alternate universe as Chase stands closer, looping a finger around a belt loop of my pants. Good call. I really want to lunge at someone right now.
“We’ll kill your family . . .” Derek says as Devin finishes for him, “And then you’ll be so angry that you’ll kill us while the world watches. You won’t be able not to, because what kind of friend, sister, lover would you be?”