29. Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Bran is on the floor near the opposite wall, his weapon several feet away.
The pilot stands over him.
He raises the gun.
“Stop!”
My voice cuts through the alarm.
The pilot turns.
His eyes find me.
Hatred twists his face.
“You.”
The gun shifts toward my chest.
Fear strikes hard enough to freeze my lungs.
I grip the microphone stand with both hands.
“What did we do to you?”
He laughs.
“You were supposed to die on the island.”
The words are almost conversational.
“Then your father was supposed to withdraw.”
“Who paid you?”
His smile widens.
“Mercer said losing you would break him.”
Gideon Mercer.
The opposition coalition’s security director.
The man who publicly condemned the attacks while standing beside Dad at a televised debate.
The name lands with absolute clarity.
“You shot my father.”
“I arranged it.”
Bran begins moving behind him.
The pilot notices.
He swings the weapon back toward my brother.
I don’t think.
I run.
The microphone stand connects with his wrist.
A shot fires into the ceiling.
The pilot cries out and turns toward me.
His free hand strikes my face.
Pain flashes across my cheek.
I fall against the wall.
He raises the gun again.
A dark shape hits him from the side.
Luca.
The impact drives both men into the opposite wall.
The gun falls.
Bran lunges for it.
Luca and the pilot crash to the floor.
The pilot reaches toward his boot.
Luca catches his wrist before he can pull the knife hidden there.
They struggle.
Luca drives one forearm against his throat.
The pilot knees him in the ribs and rolls.
The knife flashes beneath the emergency lights.
“No!”
The blade moves toward Luca.
I grab the microphone stand again and slam the base against the pilot’s forearm.
His grip loosens.
Luca takes the knife.
He twists the pilot onto his stomach and pins both arms behind his back.
“Don’t move.”
The pilot spits blood onto the floor.
“Fuck you.”
Luca tightens his hold.
“I said don’t move.”
Security floods the corridor.
Armed officers surround us.
Bran retrieves the fallen gun and steps away.
“It’s him,” I say.
My voice shakes.
“The pilot.”
Luca looks over his shoulder.
His gaze finds me.
The controlled fury in his face transforms immediately.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
He looks at the red mark forming along my cheek.
“You’re not fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
More officers secure the pilot.
Luca releases him only after three men take control.
Then he reaches me.
His hands move over my face, arms, waist.
Checking.
Confirming.
“You ran toward him.”
“He was going to shoot Bran.”
“You ran toward an armed man.”
“I had a microphone stand.”
His eyes close.
“That does not make it better.”
“It helped.”
“It did,” Bran says.
Luca glares at him.
“You don’t encourage her.”
“I’m alive because of her.”
“You’re both impossible.”
He pulls me against his chest.
Only then do I feel how hard he’s shaking.
I wrap my arms around him.
“I’m here.”
His hand cradles the back of my head.
“You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
“That’s different.”
“It absolutely is not.”
His mouth presses against my hair.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The alarm stops.
The sudden silence rings in my ears.
Federal agents enter the corridor several minutes later.
One of them holds the pilot’s phone inside an evidence bag.
Bran speaks with them while Luca refuses to move more than six inches away from me.
Adrien emerges from the green room.
His eyes widen when he sees the blood on the wall.
“Oh, good. I leave you alone for twelve seconds and you start an action film.”
He rushes toward me.
“I’m okay.”
“You have a handprint on your face.”
“It doesn’t match my outfit.”
He hugs me carefully.
Bran returns.
“They have Mercer.”
I look at him.
“What?”
“The pilot’s phone had an active encrypted thread.”
Bran’s expression contains grim satisfaction.
“Instructions. Payment confirmations. Photographs. Everything.”
“And Mercer?”
“Federal agents were already watching him. They arrested him ten minutes ago.”
Relief moves through me so quickly my knees weaken.
Luca catches my waist.
“It’s over?” I ask.
Bran looks toward the pilot being led away in restraints.
“This part is.”
No one can promise danger never returns.
Not with Dad’s career.
Not with my fame.
Not with the work Luca has chosen.
But the man who flew our plane is finally in custody.
The person who ordered the attacks has been exposed.
The shadow waiting behind us for months is gone.
My manager appears at the end of the corridor.
His face is almost gray.
“Simone.”
He glances at the damage.
“The arena is being evacuated.”
“No.”
Everyone turns toward me.
My manager swallows.
“We had a weapon discharged backstage.”
“The threat is contained.”
“The police—”
“Will search the building.”
I look at Bran.
“Can they clear it?”
“Eventually.”
“How long?”
“An hour. Maybe more.”
My manager shakes his head.
“We’ll reschedule.”
“No.”
Luca touches my arm.
“Simone.”
I face him.
“I am not leaving this stage because another man decided fear should control what I do.”
His expression tightens.
“This isn’t about proving anything.”
“Yes, it is.”
I touch his face.
“Not to him. To me.”
The arena holds thousands of people who came to celebrate with me.
They deserve safety.
So do I.
But safety doesn’t have to mean surrender.
“If the authorities clear the venue, I’m performing.”
Luca studies me.
He knows better than to order me not to.
Finally, he nods.
“If they clear every section.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll be beside the stage.”
“I assumed.”
“And you do not leave the secured route.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No.”
I rise onto my toes and kiss him.
“But I’m still singing.”
The concert begins seventy-eight minutes late.
No one leaves.
The audience cheers when the announcement explains that a temporary security issue has been resolved.
They have no idea how temporary it nearly wasn’t.
I change costumes to hide the blood transferred to the first one.
My makeup artist covers the mark along my cheek but leaves enough visible that I remember it’s there.
Before I walk toward the stage, Bran appears beside me.
“Someone wants to see you.”
“I have thirty seconds.”
“He insisted.”
My manager makes a distressed sound.
Bran ignores him and leads me through the service entrance behind the arena.
Dad’s limousine waits beyond the barricade.
For one strange second, I’m transported back to the night of his birthday.
Another party.
Another announcement.
Another moment when he believed my future belonged to him.
The rear door opens.
Dad sits inside wearing a white tailored suit.