Page 25

Mel

I spent the next hour searching for Nova’s wig, determined to find it. My eyes burned from exhaustion, but I couldn’t give up. Not after the way she’d yelled at me after tonight’s show.

The theater was nearly empty now, just cleaning staff and a few technicians breaking down equipment. I’d checked every costume rack, every storage bin, every corner backstage. Nothing.

“Any luck?” Logan asked, passing me in the hallway.

“No.” I pushed my hair out of my face. “It’s like it vanished into thin air.”

“We’ve got all available cameras pulled up. If someone took it, we’ll find them.”

“Thanks.”

I hadn’t seen Ethan since the show ended. He had his own stuff he was coordinating and equipment that needed to be packed up.

But I wasn’t going to lie; I could definitely use a hug. Or… something else to distract me from all this.

My feet dragged as I made my way to Nova’s private dressing room. I’d already checked it twice, but maybe she’d misplaced the wig herself and forgotten. The door stood partially open, which surprised me. After her explosive exit, I’d expected it to be locked tight.

“Nova?” I called, pushing the door wider. Maybe she’d come back in here.

But the room was empty, makeup and personal Nova items scattered across every surface like the aftermath of a glittery hurricane. No rainbow wig.

I sighed, leaning against the counter. The mirror reflected my exhausted face back at me—dark circles under my eyes, hair falling out of its bun, lipstick long gone. I looked exactly how I felt.

A sharp knock startled me.

A young man in a courier uniform stood in the doorway, holding a medium-sized box.

“Delivery for Nova Rivers,” he said, glancing at the label.

“She’s not here, but I’m her manager.” I crossed the room. “I can sign for it.”

He handed me an electronic tablet. “Sign here, please.”

I scribbled my signature and handed it back. The courier placed the box on the makeup counter.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for my purse before remembering I’d left it in my own room. “I don’t have any cash on me. Can I tip you electronically?”

“Sure thing.” He pulled out his phone. “I use TipHero.” He showed me the app with his name, and I snapped a picture of it.

“I’ll send it over in just a few.”

“No rush.” He smiled, backing out of the room. “Have a good night.”

The door swung closed behind him with a solid click. I turned my attention to the box. Plain brown cardboard, sealed with clear packing tape. Nova’s name was written in block letters, as well as the hotel, but there was no return address.

I hesitated. Nova was still furious with me, holed up in her hotel room and refusing my calls. Did I really want to bother her with a package right now?

The responsible thing would be to leave it for morning. But what if it was something important? Tour materials, a gift from a sponsor, something she needed for tomorrow night’s show?

Better to check first. I could always rewrap it if necessary.

I pulled open a drawer, fishing for scissors, then carefully cut through the packing tape. Inside was a white Styrofoam cooler, the kind you’d use for picnics or keeping drinks cold.

That was odd.

I lifted the lid.

The smell hit me first—rank, putrid, like roadkill baking in the sun. My stomach lurched as my brain processed what I was seeing.

It smelled like roadkill because that’s what it was .

Nova’s rainbow wig, its vibrant colors unmistakable, had been arranged on the bloated body of a dead raccoon. The animal’s glazed eyes stared up at me, mouth frozen in a snarl. Dark blood had matted in its fur, soaking into the wig’s synthetic strands.

I screamed, stumbling backward. The box tumbled to the floor, its contents spilling out. The raccoon flopped onto the carpet with a wet thud, the rainbow wig still attached to its head like some perverted parody.

Bile rose in my throat. I lunged for the door, twisting the handle frantically.

It wouldn’t budge.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, jerking the handle harder. The door remained firmly shut, as if locked from the outside .

I pounded my fist against the wood. “Hello? Is anyone out there? I need help!”

Nothing.

The stench from the dead animal grew stronger, filling the small room. I pressed my sleeve over my nose and mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

I skirted around the grotesque display on the floor, to get back to the makeup counter where I’d set my phone, keeping as much distance as possible between myself and the dead raccoon.

My hands shook so badly I could barely unlock the screen. I pulled up my contacts and tapped Ethan’s name, praying he’d answer.

He picked up on the second ring. “Mel? Everything okay?”

My voice cracked as I tried to speak. “Ethan, please. Help me.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” His tone sharpened immediately.

“Nova’s dressing room,” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. “There’s a…raccoon…a raccoon. The door won’t open.”

“What? Honey, I can’t understand you. Slow down. Are you hurt?”

“No, raccoon. Raccoon.” It was the only word I could get out around my sobs.

“A what? Where are you?”

I took a breath. “Nova’s dressing room.”

“And what about a raccoon?”

“It’s dead. With Nova’s rainbow wig!” I was sobbing now, the words tumbling out. “Someone delivered it, and now I’m trapped in here with it and it smells so bad and?—”

“I’m on my way,” he cut in, his voice steady. “Stay away from whatever it is. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

The line went quiet. I sank onto the makeup chair, as far from the door—and the raccoon—as the small room allowed. My whole body trembled, tears blurring my vision.

True to his word, I heard Ethan’s voice outside the door less than two minutes later.

“Mel? I’m here. Can you unlock the door?”

“I can’t,” I called back, voice breaking. “It’s stuck or locked from your side.”

“Stand back,” he ordered. “I’m going to try something.”

I heard him rattling the handle, then his muffled voice speaking to someone else. Then more rattling, harder this time.

“The lock is damaged,” he called through the door. “Someone’s tampered with it. We’re going to have to force it open. Move away from the door.”

I pressed myself against the far wall. A moment later, the door shuddered under a heavy impact. Again. And again.

With a splintering crack, it finally gave way. Ethan burst in, gun drawn, eyes sweeping the room before landing on me. Behind him, Ty and Jace stood ready, their own weapons out.

“Are you hurt?” Ethan demanded, crossing to me in three long strides.

I shook my head, unable to speak. He holstered his weapon, eyes searching mine, then pulled me into his arms. I clung to him, face pressed against his chest, breathing in his clean scent—anything to block out the smell of death permeating the room.

“Fucking hell,” Ty muttered from the doorway.

Ethan turned, keeping me tucked against his side. His body went rigid as he finally saw what had terrified me so badly. The raccoon lay just where it had fallen, the rainbow wig a garish crown on its head. The cooler had cracked when it hit the floor, leaking melted ice and blood onto the carpet.

“Get her out of here,” Jace said, already pulling on gloves from his pocket. “We’ve got this.”

Ethan guided me toward the door. “Can you walk? ”

I nodded, even as my knees threatened to buckle.

“Wait,” Ty called, still examining the scene. “There’s something else.”

He carefully lifted a piece of paper with his gloved hand. A note, written in blocky letters similar to those on the package.

“ Take the show off the road, or you will end up dead ,” he read aloud.

My stomach twisted again. “There’s more,” I managed, pointing with a shaking hand. “In the box.”

Jace peered into the Styrofoam container, then lifted out a small teddy bear. A second note was pinned to its chest with a safety pin. One word: “ Soon .”

“That’s Nova’s wig,” I whispered, still leaning heavily against Ethan. “The one that went missing tonight. It was there for yesterday’s performance. I saw it myself.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “That means whoever did this has been moving with us. Had access backstage.”

“Clark,” I said suddenly. “The dancer who disappeared. Could he…?”

“We’ll find him,” Ethan promised. He draped his jacket around my shoulders, then tightened his arm around my waist. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

He led me down the hallway, past curious stagehands and security personnel drawn by the commotion. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, grateful for his solid presence beside me.

“Who would do something like this?” I whispered as Ethan led me to the elevator. “It’s so sick.”

“Someone who wants to scare Nova,” he said, his voice grim. “And they’re escalating.”

We got out on my floor, and he walked me down the hallway. “What are we going to do?” I asked. “Should we tell Nova?”

“Let me see what my team can discover first. If we can just get through one more performance, then we have a full week off. We can decide what to tell her while there’s some downtime.”

“Okay.”

“Was the box there when you went into the dressing room?”

I shuddered as I thought about it. “No, it was delivered by courier. I have his info here, to tip him.”

Ethan pulled out his phone, taking a picture of my screen. “That’s helpful. We’ll find him. I doubt seriously he’s the perp, but he might remember something.”

We reached my door. I fumbled with the keycard, my hands still unsteady.

“Let me,” Ethan said gently, taking it from me.

Inside, he checked every corner of the room—closet, bathroom, under the bed—before seeming satisfied. I sank onto the edge of the mattress, his jacket still wrapped around me.

“I can stay,” he offered, sitting beside me. “If you don’t want to be alone.”

I wanted to say yes. Wanted to lose myself in his arms, let him chase away the horror of what I’d seen. But his expression was already distant, his mind working the puzzle, connecting dots.

“No,” I said. “You need to go. Figure out who did this.”

“Mel—”

“I’m okay. Really.” I managed a weak smile. “Just need the hottest shower known to man and sleep.”

He studied my face, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll station someone outside your door. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering longer than necessary. “Lock this behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me or my team.”

After he left, I locked the door as instructed, then slid the security chain into place. I peeled off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor, and stood under the shower until the water ran cold.

But no amount of soap could wash away the image of that raccoon with Nova’s rainbow wig. No amount of hot water could stop the cold fear spreading through my chest.

Someone had tampered with that door, meant to terrify whoever had been trapped inside.

And they’d succeeded.