Julian Cross had acted with legends.
He'd shared screens with Oscar winners, martial arts masters, theater geniuses.
He'd trained with stunt teams across three continents.
But nothing—
absolutely nothing—
prepared him for the way Aria Lane moved.
It wasn't skill.
It wasn't technique.
It was instinct.
Too sharp.
Too fast.
Too controlled.
And far, far too familiar.
The Flashback That Hits Hard
While Director Mason negotiated with his remaining hair follicles, Julian stepped aside, watching Aria from a distance as she munched on a protein bar Daniel had surrendered to keep her from stealing craft services again.
She stood casually—
one ankle crossed behind the other,
posture loose,
expression soft.
But her eyes…
They scanned the room with tiny micro-adjustments.
Exactly like a trained operative.
Exactly like—
He inhaled sharply.
No.
Impossible.
But the memory clawed back anyway.
Six Months Ago — Night on Set
Julian had been filming an action movie overseas.
High-budget.
Lots of explosions.
Lots of wires.
And one stunt had gone wrong.
A rig snapped during rehearsal—
a 200-pound lighting arm swung down toward him.
No time to react.
No time to move.
But someone had shouted:
"Down!"
A voice sharp as a blade.
Before he processed the word, a figure had slammed into him, knocking him flat as the lighting arm crashed inches from his head.
When he looked up—
The rescuer had already vanished.
Just a blur disappearing behind set walls.
Everyone later claimed it must've been a stunt rigger.
But Julian had seen the moment.
The reflex.
The speed.
It wasn't normal.
And today…
watching Aria—
He saw the same movement.
The same breath-tightening precision.
The same ghost.
His chest tightened.
Was it her?
Was Aria Lane the one who saved him?
Present — On the Audition Floor
Julian stepped toward her slowly.
"Aria."
She turned, chewing contently.
"Yes?"
He hesitated—
not because he feared the answer,
but because the question itself felt dangerous.
"Have we… met before?" he asked.
Aria blinked once.
Then twice.
She swallowed her bite.
"In what context?"
Julian exhaled a laugh.
"That's a very evasive answer."
She shrugged.
"It's a very vague question."
He smiled at that.
But he wasn't fooled.
There was something in her tone—
a careful neutrality.
A blade sheathed.
He lowered his voice.
"Months ago… on a foreign set… someone saved me from a falling rig. They disappeared before anyone saw them."
Aria's expression didn't change.
Not visibly.
But her fingers tightened imperceptibly around the protein bar.
Julian saw it.
He saw everything.
She stayed silent.
He Presses Gently
Julian stepped closer, voice softer.
"Was it you?"
Aria stared at him for a long moment.
Her eyes—so calm, so unreadable—held a flicker.
Not emotion.
Calculation.
Then she tilted her head.
"If I had saved you," she said quietly,
"would you be angry?"
Julian froze.
Because that wasn't denial.
That was a warning.
He shook his head slowly.
"No," he whispered.
"I'd be grateful."
Aria's gaze softened a fraction.
Barely.
Then she looked away and said,
"I think you're remembering wrong."
It was a gentle lie.
He felt it hit like a soft punch.
Director Mason Interrupts the Moment
"HEY!" Mason shouted.
"NO ROMANTIC TENSION DURING AUDITIONS! THIS IS AN ACTION FILM!"
Julian stepped back immediately.
Aria calmly resumed eating.
Mason pointed dramatically at both of them.
"You two—STOP LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE YOU'RE IN A TRAILER MONTAGE."
Aria blinked innocently.
Julian coughed into his sleeve.
The moment dissolved.
But the question did not.
Julian Realizes Something Important
As the crew prepared the next camera setup, Julian kept glancing at her when she wasn't looking.
Her posture.
Her awareness.
Her precise movements.
That was her.
It had to be her.
And yet she denied it with the calmness of someone who had spent her entire life hiding things.
Julian exhaled slowly.
"Aria Lane," he murmured under his breath,
"What exactly are you?"
She looked up at that exact moment—
as if hearing his whisper.
Their eyes met.
A silent beat passed.
Then Aria smiled faintly.
The kind of smile that meant absolutely nothing—
and everything.