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Chapter Two

Time passes.Not so much that the light changes, but enough that the drugs in my system—whatever didn't end up on the carpeting—fade, leaving me awake, alive, and fully aware of the situation.

I've killed a man.

He’s lying right there on the floor—his pale ass glowing in the darkness. This is not some thug in an alley who attacked me. This is a world-renowned actor and director dead in his own home. The signs of self-defense are everywhere though…

Doesn’t matter.

I'm over. My dreams are dead. As dead as Jack Axelrod.

Should I have let it happen?He probably wouldn’t have killed me…the thought flitters past, firing a shot of pain through me.No. No. No.I wrap my arms around my legs and start to shake.

I'll shake until it passes then I'll get up. I'll find my clothing. Soon, I will move.

The sound of footsteps raises my head. I’m going to be found. I shouldn't let anyone see me like this. I try to stand, but my limbs are wooden and heavy. I nearly tip off the chair, getting a leg down just in time to prevent the tumble.

The door to the foyer opens, throwing yellow electric light onto the twilight space I've existed in. The shaft of color does not reach us. Jack, Oscar, and I remain shrouded in shadow.

A woman’s silhouette, wearing a knee-length dress and flat shoes, is outlined in the doorway.It’s the housekeeper, Nancy.

She knew.Sheletthis happen to me…and how many others?

Nancy steps into the room, and reaches for the light switch. A chandelier glows a soft, elegant gold, casting warm light over the scene.

Her eyes land on me, and she takes a sharp inhale. Nancy’s hand comes to her throat as her eyes widen and cheeks blaze with a furious blush of surprise and shock.She’s not breathing.Seems I have that effect on people tonight.

I don't move or speak. Just sit here, one foot on the floor, the other up, my knee blocking some of my nudity but not all of it.

I am naked and bruised, clutching a blood-stained Oscar statue.

Nancy takes a tentative step forward, eyes traveling over the room. Her gaze falls on Jack, and all the blood rushes from her face. Where my bruised nakedness brought color to her skin, the site of Jack’s lifeless corpse takes it all away.

I'm the one that’s alive.I survived. A savage pride pulses through me.

I take in a stuttering breath. Then another—grateful for my lungs, my lips, my tongue, everything that keeps me breathing. Grateful for every cell that kept me alive tonight.

Archie comes barreling into the room—so small and fluffy in this death-filled cavernous space. Jack must have tossed him into the foyer before turning his full attention on me. He jumps at the chair, trying to get up to me. His long, white body is tall enough for his paws to reach the seat, but his back legs are too short to propel him up onto it. I reach down and take him into my arms, still gripping the bloody statue.

I should put it down.But my fingers won't release. I refuse to let down all my defenses.

Archie licks my face, and I hold him tight. He settles into my arms, whimpering softly.

Nancy approaches Jack's body and stands over it for a moment before crouching down, her skirt hitting the carpet as she leans forward, reaching for his neck, searching for a pulse.

It only takes a moment to find that there is no life there. She could probably tell just from looking. He's a husk. Just a bag of skin and bones. The light and life are gone.

Nancy turns to me. Her eyes are the soft brown of a cow, red-rimmed with the emotions of a human.

"He's dead," she whispers.

I nod. "I know."

"We have to call someone."

"Who?"

"The police?"