The cast comes out to take their bows. The audience gives them a standing ovation, except for one man who slips out of his seat and exits via the side door before Nessa comes to take her bow.
The man’s movement catches my eye. As thrilled and pleased as I am for Nessa, I can’t turn off that part of my brain. The part that’s always looking for something out of place.
Nessa strides across the stage, blushing with pleasure as the crowd cheers louder than ever. She curtseys, then scans the crowd, looking for her family. When she catches sight of me, she blows me a kiss.
Jackson Wright grabs her hand and lifts it up in triumph. He’s gotten his cast off finally, which seems to have improved his spirits. He’s grinning, looking genuinely proud.
As the dancers head backstage once more, we go out to the lobby to wait for Nessa. She’s changing out of her costume, probably talking excitedly with her friends. They’ll all be high on the wave of their success.
I wait next to Nessa’s parents, with Callum, Aida, and Riona. Imogen is quiet, as if she has a lot on her mind. Aida is talking enough for everyone.
“That was the best ballet I’ve ever seen. It’s the only ballet I’ve ever seen, but I’m sure if I watched others, I’d still think that.”
“It was beautiful,” Riona agrees.
“I felt like there was a metaphor in there somewhere . . .” Aida muses, casting her sly gray eyes in my direction.
Callum gives her a stern look to make her shut up.
She grins up at him, not chastened in the slightest. I can see the corner of his mouth quirking up in return.
Waiters in tuxedos circulate through the lobby, carrying trays laden with bubbling champagne flutes. Fergus Griffin takes a drink off one of the trays and swigs it down. He offers a glass to his wife, but she shakes her head.
My stomach is rumbling. I haven’t eaten any dinner yet. I doubt Nessa has, either. Maybe I could convince Fergus to let me take her somewhere to celebrate . . .
The cast comes out into the lobby. They’ve changed into street clothes, but they haven’t washed off the heavy stage makeup, so they’re far from blending in. Audience members swarm around to congratulate them. A sinuous line forms, like a reception line. I curse how far away I am—I’ll have to wait my turn to speak to Nessa.
There’s a flow to crowd movement. People naturally fall into the line, or move aside to get out of the way. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I see motion that doesn’t quite fit the pattern. A man in a wool coat, striding toward the cast members from the edge of the room.
He’s got dark hair, his collar pulled up so I can’t see his face. But I see his hand, reaching inside his coat.
I look over at Nessa, directly in line with the man’s trajectory. She’s changed into leggings and a knit sweater, her face still made up from the stage with false lashes and pink cheeks. Her hair is pulled up in its tight bun, dusted with glitter. She’s flushed and laughing, her eyes bright with pleasure.
As I watch, she glances up and catches my eyes. Her smile beams out, then falters when she sees the expression on my face.
I start sprinting toward her.
The man is pulling a gun out of his coat. He’s thumbing off the safety, raising the barrel up.
I’m plowing through the crowd. I slam into a waiter, knocking the tray of champagne out of his hand. The glasses fly everywhere. I catch the silver tray out of the air and I sprint forward, shouting “NESSA!”
In slow motion I see the man point the gun right at her face. Nessa sees it, too. She freezes in place, eyes wide, dark brows flying upward. The dancers on either side of her cringe away. She’s all alone, unprotected, too startled to even put up her hands.
I leap forward, tray outstretched.
The gun goes off like a cannon.
I feel the jolt as it hits me, simultaneous with the noise.
I plow into Nessa, knocking her to the ground and covering her with my body. I don’t know where the first bullet hit. I expect to feel several more, riddling my back.
There’re three more shots, but I don’t feel any pain. I smother Nessa, keeping her trapped beneath me so nothing can hurt her. All through the screaming and stampeding of people