The speakerphone on Aria's device wasn't particularly loud, but in the claustrophobic space behind the set wall, Damien's voice sounded like thunder rolling in from a distant, violent storm.
"Lucas," the voice rasped, distorted slightly by the connection but unmistakable in its menace. "I wasn't aware you had a death wish."
Lucas flinched so hard he hit his head against a lighting rig. He stared at the phone in Aria's hand as if it were a live grenade.
"Uncle?" Lucas stammered, his face draining of color. "I... I didn't know she called you. We were just... rehearsing."
"Rehearsing?" Damien's laugh was dry and mirthless. "Is 'begging for attention' part of the script now? Because from where I'm sitting—watching the security feed of Studio 4—it looks like you have my fiancée cornered in a dark alleyway."
Lucas's eyes darted up to the ceiling, searching frantically for the cameras he had forgotten existed.
