Her right hand hadn't healed, so she could only weakly pound the cold door with her left. The shadowed corridor was eerie and still; no one answered her calls.
Dust swirled in the air and seeped into her lungs. Kristen coughed a few times. The drug clearly hadn't worn off; her body felt weak and boneless, and after a short while standing, her legs began to tremble.
She turned and sat back on the thin mattress, scanning the room. Just piles of useless junk—nothing she could use to smash the lock.
Yesterday, Grace had locked her in a restroom. Today, Finn had shut her in a basement. They really were a perfect pair, hand in glove.
At the thought, Kristen let out a low laugh. When she ducked her head, her eyes stung red of their own accord.
She remembered when Finn had chased her. Once, during a shoot over a hundred kilometers away, she was accidentally locked in an abandoned building. Everyone had gone—only she was left.
Martin wasn't with the crew, and she had no assistant. The signal was bad; she couldn't get a call out. Night was closing in, and the building had no power or water. Just when despair was swallowing her—
Finn arrived like a god from the sky, pried open the lock, and appeared with a lamp, driving away all the darkness in her world.
In that moment, she saw panic and fear in Finn's eyes—as if he were terrified of losing the most precious thing in his life.
She believed his sincerity then, and forgot how quickly sincerity can change. The same light that once saved her was now pushing her into the abyss with its own hand.
Her nose burned. Her eyes grew damp, as if something might spill over.
Kristen tipped her head back and forced the tears down. "There's nothing to cry about, Kristen. He's not worth a single drop."
But three years of love—how could it not hurt, just because she said so?
She didn't know how long it was before, hungry and drowsy, she was about to drift off when a sound came at the door. She shot to her feet.
Finn stood there, a bag dangling from his hand. His voice was even and cold. "Have you thought it through?"
Kristen's reddened eyes met his. She smiled faintly. "Locking me here is pointless. I wrote an email. If I don't cancel it within three days, it auto-sends to a friend's inbox. He'll upload everything then."
Rage flared across Finn's face. "You sent Grace's photos to someone else?"
The angrier he was, the colder Kristen felt. He cared so much about Grace he couldn't even hear her words clearly.
"Kristen!" he snarled, flinging the bag hard into her body.
She didn't dodge in time. The lunchbox slammed into her and thudded to the floor, food splattering everywhere. Before she could react, Finn strode over and clamped a hand around her throat, command rough in his voice. "Email account. Password."
Kristen lifted her chin, meeting his furious face without a trace of fear—only a preternatural calm.
"Finn, if you love her so much, why did you come provoke me in the first place?"
Something flickered deep in his eyes and vanished. His hand tightened on her neck, notch by notch. "Kris, don't force me."
"You forced me first." Kristen raised her injured hand. "Yesterday Grace locked me in a restroom. Today you've locked me in a basement. Finn, it's always been you two, bullying me."
In the past, he would have noticed she was hurt at once. But this time…
He didn't see it.
"Grace just wants those records back." Finn glanced at the bandage on her hand, then looked away as if he hadn't seen it at all. His voice went colder. "Don't think injuring yourself lets you frame Grace for it."
( End of Chapter )