The sun had slipped behind the horizon, bathing the studio lot in hues of twilight. The remaining crew members shuffled to wrap up the day, but Silas and Tristian stood near the gates, waiting as Grace and Eva made their way out.
Silas' eyes never left Grace. Even in the growing dusk, she looked like she belonged to another world, one he had crawled into on his knees and refused to leave.
"You always look at her like that?" Tristian asked, voice light but curious.
Silas didn't blink. "Like what?"
"Like she holds all your sins."
Silas chuckled under his breath, low and unrepentant. "Maybe she does."
Eva waved a lazy goodbye to the crew but didn't spare a single glance back at Tristian.
"See you around, Mercer," she tossed over her shoulder, already halfway to the car.
"Count on it," he called, grinning.
Grace turned to Silas briefly. "You were good today. The scene with the monologue... it felt real."
He stepped closer. "That was me talking to you. You just didn't know."
She looked up at him, something flickering behind her eyes. "Maybe I did."
They didn't say goodbye. It felt unnecessary.
Inside the car, Eva huffed as she buckled her seatbelt.
"That man is insufferable."
Grace raised a brow. "Tristian?"
"Yes, him. All golden smiles and jokes. It's exhausting."
Grace smirked. "You didn't have to let him show you how the camera rig works. Twice."
"He insisted. And I was too polite to push him off the scaffolding."
Grace laughed, the sound soft, rare. "He likes you. That much is obvious."
"Ugh, don't say it like that. It makes it real."
Grace leaned back against the headrest. "You always complain about the golden retrievers. But you keep letting them follow you home."
Eva narrowed her eyes. "Careful, Laurent. You're starting to sound like you're enjoying all this."
Grace didn't respond immediately. Her mind wandered—to Silas, to the way his eyes never asked, only claimed. To the strange pull in her chest every time he stood too close. To the way the air felt heavier now, like everything was building up to something she hadn't yet named.
"Maybe I am," she murmured.
Eva turned toward her sharply. "Are you okay? You seem... off."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
But even Grace knew that wasn't entirely true.
Eva, as if sensing Grace's shift in mood, pivoted to safer ground. "Anyway, the campaign briefs came in this morning. The skincare one looks promising, might need you for some visuals."
Grace nodded slowly, grateful for the change. "We'll need to tweak the message behind the campaign. Make it aspirational but not fake. And make sure it does not set any unnatural beauty standard. Real skin, real stories."
Eva tilted her head. "And maybe shoot something in Riverton? Something soft but haunting. The city's got that foggy charm that works."
"I like that," Grace said. "Use the city's melancholy. Make it intimate."
Eva smirked. "You're really in your feels today."
Grace let out a small laugh. "Blame the actors. They're dramatic by default."
"Mmhm," Eva murmured, clearly not buying the deflection.
"And you seem to be good at campaigns as you are with the laws." Grace teased and they both laughed out loud.
Back at the studio, Tristian was still looking at the gates long after the girls had left.
"She's got bite," he said aloud.
Silas didn't answer. His phone buzzed. A photo from the camera he'd hidden weeks ago. Grace. Home. Alone. Untouched and unaware.
"And she's got claws," Silas whispered.
The night didn't end. It simply darkened.