Lana stared at Delina over her iced latte. The condensation dripped onto the metal table of the hip LA coffee shop.
"You turned down the Lead?" Lana asked, incredulous. "For a supporting role?"
"The Lead shoots in Europe for six months. I need to be in LA," Delina explained.
She couldn't leave Hiram. She couldn't leave Florene unmonitored.
"And I want you to get me on 'The Real Wives of Beverly Hills'," Delina added.
Lana choked on her drink. She coughed, waving a hand. "Reality TV? Delina, that's career suicide for a serious actress."
"It's a shield, Lana. I need cameras on me," Delina said seriously.
If she was a public figure, constantly filmed, Florene couldn't quietly kill her again. Shadows couldn't exist under studio lights.
"Plus, the drama with my step-family is gold. The producers will love it."
Lana looked at her, assessing. She saw the steel in Delina's eyes. "You're planning something."
"I'm planning a takeover. Are you in?"
Lana grinned. "I get fifteen percent."
"Deal." They shook hands.
Delina's phone buzzes. It was a text from Kassidy.
'Sis! Mom says you're acting weird. Dinner tonight? We're worried.'
Delina showed the text to Lana. "See? Content."
Lana laughed. "Okay, I'll make the calls. But Hiram hates cameras."
"I'll handle Hiram," Delina said, though a knot of ice formed in her stomach. She knew what she was asking. It was more than a career move; it was an act of war against his privacy. A man who lived in the shadows wouldn't welcome the glare of a thousand cameras. But that was the point. Shadows were where assassins thrived. If she dragged their lives into the light, she might just survive. It was a gamble-one that could either save her or make him hate her forever.
She stood to leave. As she did, a wave of dizziness hit her.
It was like the ground vanished. She grabbed the table edge, her vision swimming.
A trickle of warm liquid ran from her nose.
She wiped it with her hand. Bright red blood.
Lana stood up, concerned. "Delina? You okay?"
"Just... dehydrated," Delina lied. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her nose.
She realized with a jolt. Using her power twice in one day-Stone and Monica-had a cost. Her brain felt like it was on fire.
She stumbled out to her car. She sat in the driver's seat, leaning her head back.
She checked her reflection. Pale skin. Bloodshot eyes. The power drained her life force.
Her phone rang again.
Caller ID: Gorden Ballard.
She stared at the screen. The man who let them kill her.
