Chapter Eighty-Five. Sarah Lynn
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
SARAH LYNN
The gunshot rips through the room like lightning.
One heartbeat I’m holding Hannah’s hand, the next it’s pure chaos—girls shrieking, scattering across the stage, the audience surging to their feet.
Someone clips the tripod lights and they crash down, bulbs exploding in a white flash before everything plunges into black.
Girls shoulder-check me in their frantic rush off the stage. I lose Hannah’s hand, then find it again in the dark.
“Where did that come from?” she gasps.
My throat is tight. “The dressing room?”
“Olivia.” Just her name, but it’s enough. Enough to send us toward the sound, toward the danger.
I can’t see, only feel the crush of bodies, the heat of panic. My eyes strain, useless. We push toward the wings, palms dragging along the wall until the dim red glow of the exit sign finally shapes figures from shadow. Kayden, Billy, Teddy—all three of them bunched outside the dressing room door.
“The door is locked,” Teddy says, voice raw.
Beside me, Hannah whimpers.
“Where is Olivia?” I say, each word a silent prayer.
Billy looks wide-eyed. Teddy only shakes his head.
“Fuck it,” Kayden mutters, and throws his shoulder into the door. It crashes open, spilling yellow light into the hallway, and Kayden tumbles inside.
I lunge after him, grab his arm to pull him upright.
His sneakers skid. A wet squeak on the floor.
And then I see the blood.