27

“Quiet on set!” the director yelled, pulling Mara out of her head. “Mara and Beetra, front and center. We’re starting with the opening bar scene, line twelve, all the way through. Extras! Where’s my bartender on set? No. Move that seat over there. Two extras here. You in the blue, lean over the bar… not like that, like this! Make it bel-iev-able, people!”

Sharp claps rang out, making Mara jump. Her eyes trailed to Jax, settling her nerves as soon as she realized he was still nearby. Mara felt tears prickling the back of her eyes. He didn’t have to give her comfort during their drive. It wasn’t in his job description. Neither was holding her during her breakdown at the hotel. It was just… decent. And… no… this wasn't the time to get emotional.

She focused on the set. After a mad dash to her trailer and then wardrobe, hair, and makeup, she'd barely had time to down a lukewarm coffee from the refreshment table, and now she was due for hours of work until lunch.

They were currently shooting in one of the town’s local buildings. The empty meeting hall had been turned into a dive bar for this scene. WolfHaven wasn’t a booming town by any means, but there were plenty of quaint small shops and restaurants filling the central areas. And branching out from the heart of the town were acres and acres of forest. Mara’s house was one of many estates tucked into the dense trees.

She sighed. How quickly could they finish filming so she could go home? Her eyes flicked back to Jax. She’d need to clean up her pool house for him. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his eyes darting around the set like he was expecting something to go wrong.

Mara thumbed her phone and set it down, following set directions so she could take her place. Locking eyes with Beetra, Mara released the tension in her shoulders. They shared a friendly look of exasperation at Rory. They’d been filming for a few days already and according to Beetra he’d already been micromanaging.

He clapped sharply again, and the lighting techs adjusted. A microphone covered in a windscreen hovered nearby. She couldn’t help the cold flush that ran through her as she replayed her lines again. Rory had hated every second of her new performance of the character at the read-through. Sure, it wasn’t her best work, but it was headed in the right direction. Rory didn’t think so. He thought she needed to keep true to who she’d been in the last movie despite the fact that the character was now five years older and healing from the last movie's trauma. Her character wasn’t the young, idealistic teen she’d been in the first movie. Nothing else was the same. Why should her portrayal be?

"Mara, I want you here..." Rory pointed to the bar-height stool between two decently attractive extras. "And... lose the jacket."

Mara looked down at the wardrobe she'd been given. Underneath the jean jacket, she was wearing a sleeveless low-cut tank top. Without the jacket, she wouldn’t look properly dressed for a day drink with her character’s on-screen mother.

"Rory, I don't think—"

"You're not paid to think princess, you're paid to act. Jacket off. Sit and get ready. Beetra, love," Rory segued easily and Mara didn't miss the dismissal, "You're going to stand just offscreen and get ready to steal the show, okay?"

Mara clenched her eyes closed. Was this payback for the fact that she didn't kiss his ass? Or the fact that she didn't accept his invitation to dinner last year? Whatever the reason, it was clear her weeks spent filming wouldn’t be enjoyable. She'd have to have a professional talk with him, but not here, not with everyone waiting on bated breath to call her a bratty actress. She eyed several set assistants with their phones out. If she stood up for herself, would it end up on the blogs in minutes? Without the added context of being belittled in front of everyone on set?

So Mara did what she did best: she faked a smile and stripped out of her jacket. Draping it over her set chair, she happened to catch sight of Jackson. He was leaning to speak to another man in a black tactical outfit, similar to the ones who had herded them out of the airport, but his eyes were on her. Both of their eyes were. His phone was clenched hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he glanced from her top to her director and whispered something again.

The man he spoke to nodded, stiffened, and turned to exit the set.

What was going on? Was something wrong with her security?

“MARA!” Rory snapped. “Do you expect us to stay late so you can take all day?”

Pushing thoughts of her safety to the back of her mind, Mara closed her eyes to set herself in the mood of the character: distraught, broken-hearted, wanting to self-destruct and be left alone. Blowing out a breath, Mara went to her designated spot and gripped the glass filled with amber-colored water. Rory shuffled behind the camera while a set assistant came to put eyedrops in her eyes to fake tears.

"Alright, everyone! Clear the set. Set the scene marker... three... two... one... action!"

Mara slipped into her role, letting everything else fall away. She knew her lines and exactly how the scene was supposed to play out. Leaning in to hug Beetra for their tear-filled reunion, Mara felt a strange tug in her lower stomach.

It made her stumble and knock over the glass of fake liquor. She almost couldn’t hear it shatter over Beetra’s sandals because Rory was yelling profanities across the room.

“CUT!” he hollered. "Your first scene, and it's already a disaster? Unbelievable."

“Beetra— I’m so sorry, Bee, I don’t know what happened,” Mara said, ignoring Rory.

“I know, hon. Don’t worry about a little set prop. I’m sure we have a million.” She casually threw a hand in the air. Mara and one of the set assistants helped Beetra into a bar stool while someone looked at her sandals for injuries. Her stomach tugged again, and Mara turned, looking for her safety net.

Only Jax wasn’t there. In his place stood the bodyguard he’d been talking to. Another two were stationed between both exits. All gave her a subtle nod as she looked for Jax.

“Mara, dear, I’m fine, you see.” Beetra held up her sandal for good measure and stood. They’d already swept away the glass and brought out a replacement. “Ready, hon?”

Mara swallowed and nodded, looking at Rory, who turned a strange shade of red in frustration. “S-sorry,” she muttered. She quickly did one last sweep of the room, searching for those green eyes, but they were missing.