The studio was in lockdown.
Red emergency lights pulsed in the hallway, casting long, bloody shadows against the walls. The fire alarm had been silenced, but the heavy steel security gates at the main entrance were sealed shut.
Inside Dressing Room 4, Anaïs pushed a heavy makeup table against the door. Her hands were shaking so hard she chipped a nail, but she didn't care.
"Mommy?" Sacha was sitting on the sofa, clutching his robot to his chest. His eyes were wide and watery. "Why are we playing barricade? Is there a zombie?"
Anaïs turned to him. She ripped off her sunglasses, tossing them onto the floor. She needed to see her son clearly.
"No zombies, baby," she said, her voice trembling. "Just... grown-up problems. We need to wait for Uncle Adi."
She pulled out her phone. No signal. Bastian had jammed the network. Of course he had. He was a control freak with the resources of a small government.
THUD.
A heavy fist pounded on the door. The makeup table shuddered.
