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49
The second I grasp Keane’s instruction, my entire body goes numb.
“You heard me,” he says. “Take the painting, Natasha.”
I swallow hard, remind myself that none of this is real, and yet I can’t keep my hand from shaking as I force myself to reach out and grasp the edge of the frame. Just like the butterfly in the Spring Room, it feels real.
“Remember, it’s fragile and irreplaceable,” Keane says.
“But—it’s just a hologram, right?” It’s a question I have no choice but to ask. The room is so authentic, there’s some major mind-fuckery at work here, and I’m honestly no longer sure.
“Remove it from the wall,” Keane says. “Gently.”
I can feel the crowd growing uneasy. People are staring, pointing, whispering to each other. Some are even backing away.
I close my eyes and push my breath in and out of my lungs.It’s a hologram. A construct.The only negative outcome would be displeasing Arthur—and that’s scary enough.
Focusing only on the task before me, I place both hands on the frame and, with a small thrust, I manage to lift the painting right off the wall as a wide grin spreads across my face.
I did it! I—
Next thing I know, a terrible alarm shrieks through the room as a swarm of uniformed guards come barreling toward me.
“What do you do, Natasha?” someone says. Keane? Arthur? Hawke? Braxton? I can’t tell. And I don’t care.
Frantic, I look all around, my pulse throbbing so loudly, it rattles my ears. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.
“What do you do, Natasha?”
Somewhere nearby, a child, is shrieking. A man points at me, yelling at the guards to hurry.
“What do you do, Natasha?”
My gaze darts wildly, searching for an opening, but there isn’t one.
The alarm is getting louder. My body’s dripping with sweat.
“Natasha, what do you do? Surrender?”
Yes! Exactly. I mean, what choice do I have?
I open my mouth, ready to wave my verbal white flag, when an emphatic“NO!”thunders out of me instead.
In an instant, a flashing green arrow appears before me, and I race toward it, only to watch in horror as a heavy iron gate begins to fall. Soon it will cut off my only chance for escape.
I’ll never make it. I’ll be trapped with an angry mob and even angrier guards.
The screech of grinding metal blares in my head as I pump my legs faster, determined to beat the gate and follow that green arrow all the way to the end, all the way to—
On my next step, my feet drop off the stage, and I find myself free-falling into an empty black space.
A pair of arms locks tightly around me.
A voice whispers in my ear, “Darling, well done.”
A moment later, Braxton gently lowers me to the ground.
First thing I do when my feet touch the floor is look at my hands. But, of course, they’re empty.
