Page 132 of Secrets in the Deep

“You don’t need to do this,” she whispered, the backs of her legs hitting the table behind her, one of the screens rocking. “You don’t have to hurt me.”

“You should run now.”

His familiar voice barely had time to register before he swung the knife.

She lunged to the side, falling into a small desk, a screen crashing to the floor.

As Roscoe drew the knife back again, she grabbed a monitor as he swung and used it as a shield. The knife hit the screen.

She kicked wildly, getting him in the shin.

He swore and doubled over.

Emily threw the monitor at him before racing out of the room. She ran straight to the kitchen, noticing another red light in the far corner of the ceiling. Surely there was a weapon somewhere? A knife. Something hard or heavy she could use to defend herself.

She opened the top drawer. Cutlery. Spoons, forks, butter knives. She opened the second drawer. Big spoons. Spatulas. Nothing useful.

Shit.

Footsteps pounded down the hall.

She opened the third drawer.

Three big knives.

Yes. She grabbed the biggest and turned, holding it in front of her as Roscoe inched forward.

“Why don’t you show your face? Show the cameras who’s behind the mask.”

He stepped closer, silence following his movement.

“Scared to be in your own film?” She lifted a brow, inching back a step. “Why? Isn’t being the center of attention the entirepoint? You’re showing everyone that you can write and direct and bring your own art to life.”

He stopped. Froze. For a second, he just remained completely unmoving.

Then he reached for the mask and tugged it off.

Roscoe smiled at her. The asshole was actually holding a knife andsmiling, while filming himself doing it.

“You’re spot on, Emily. Itisthe whole point. To show Hollywood, toshow the world, that I’m the best writer and director who ever lived. That my movies arenotobsolete, like the fucking media has been spewing! I am, and always will be, the greatest.”

She inched back. “Why me? I mean, I presume you caused the actress who first signed on to play this role to crash her car. Why did you want me?”

“Because you’re Emily Prior. If I want to make the best movie, I need the best cast.” He cocked his head. “You said no, and at first I thought I could do it without you. But then I saw her chemistry reads. I couldn’t haveher. I neededyou. The queen of Hollywood. The only person who can truly bring my character to life.”

Then he lunged, the knife gleaming in the flicker of candlelight as he aimed for her chest.

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Emily threw herself sideways. Her hip slammed into the counter, her knee groaning at the sudden movement.

She swung the knife blindly. The blade caught something, and Roscoe hissed.

She sped around the island so it sat between them.

Knife still raised, Roscoe touched his side and lifted his hand, blood staining his fingers.

He nodded. “Good. I didn’t want this to be too easy.” He smiled again. A crazed, wild kind of grin that was all wrong. “Gotta make it entertaining for our viewers.”