She ran out through a side door into the back lot, rain searing her face like pins. The intruder pursued, purposeful and not terribly slow. Ashley’s mind calculated escape routes without thinking: the maintenance stairs, the delivery trucks, the high fence with a coil of barbed wire she could scale if she had to. Behind her, a metallic shout echoed—he'd alerted the guard.

Studio R’s interior was a hodgepodge of cables, mismatched furniture, and a bank of old computers. It looked abandoned, except for a single lamp and a coffee ring on the control room desk. Ash set her bag down, checked the lock, and exhaled. For the first time in days, her heartbeat found a steadier rhythm.

He gave the smallest of smiles, tired but genuine. “Then make sure you always find me.”