“Don’t call me that.” The words came out soft and painful. I needed water.
Bryce chuckled and patted my thigh. “All right, Evie Reyes. Whatever you say.”
I placed my hands at my sides and squeezed the softness of the bed underneath me. There was so much pain, but it was more of a deep soreness than a shooting pain like before. The longer my eyes stayed open, the more I gained comprehension of my surroundings. I’d been taken to Sebastian’s bedroom. I was lying on his bed.
“What happened?” I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position.
Just then, two figures appeared in the doorway, and my heart breathed a sigh as Sebastian and Skye walked in. Skye was holding a cup, and I reached for it, my throat screaming to be quenched.
“You are a badass motherfucker, Evie Reyes.” Bryce laughed. “You took on fucking Hollywood is what happened.”
“Elliott Bradley?” I asked after draining the cup. “Where is he?”
“We left him in the pool while we got you cleaned up,” Skye explained, sitting down by my feet. She squeezed one and smiled. “You took a gunshot and survived. That is so freaking badass.”
“It hurts,” I admitted.
“No shit, Final Girl,” Sebastian said—and the world around us disappeared. The seriousness of the situation was gone for a moment as I looked up at him.
“Hey, Psycho Killer. About damn time you made it.” I smirked.
He scowled and sat down beside Bryce at the foot of the bed. “I had to go through and delete all my camera footage from the last twenty-four hours.”
Bryce continued. “Sebastian called me while on the road, and I followed him back. We got there right as you dropped. Thankfully, I know a thing or two about removing stray bullets, from growing up on the ranch.” Bryce lifted his hand and flashed the bullet. “I was able to pull this baby right out.”
My hand drifted to the wound. He’d sewn it up. It wasn’t clean, but it didn’t feel terrible.
“I’ll put some wrapping on it here in a bit. Gotta go to the store,” Bryce explained.
“What now, then?” I asked the room.
Everyone had ragged looks on their faces, and they still wore the clothes they’d been wearing at the party. Skye was wringing a towel between her hands, and Bryce’s hair was more disheveled than I’d ever seen it. And Sebastian, he just looked sick. He was pale, sweating, and covered in blood. Guilt pooled in my belly as I took everyone in. They’d done so much for me, and at what price? My return to Hollywood had aged them.
They shared looks.
“Well, we have a dead body in my pool,” Sebastian answered. “I’m going to wait until noon and open it like I normally do. That’s when I’ll find Elliott—drowned.”
“He was shot,” I told them.
They all shared the same puzzled look. Had they not looked at the body?
“I shot him, then he shot me. Then, I pushed him into the pool and closed the tarp. That’s how he died. How are you covering up a bullet wound?” I asked.
There was a beat of silence, and Bryce opened his mouth, but Skye cut him off.
“I swear if you suggest another AI suicide letter—”
“I’ve got a plan.” Sebastian stood and left the room. He was gone for a long time, and in that time, Skye and Bryce asked questions about Elliott Bradley’s last moments.
“Elliott was my biological father,” I confessed to them.
Their eyes widened.
“No shit,” Bryce said.
I nodded.
“Did he want anything from you?” Skye asked.
