Something inside Dominic snaps sideways. He lunges for the console not to break it but to seize it. Wires tangle; alarms wail. Mia reaches for a panic button. Somebody in the control room slams a catch and the studio locks down. It’s messier, faster, and more frantic than either of us expected. In the struggle, his hand brushes mine and the spark that runs through me is an electric memory — the same pulse that pulled us into exile on his couch two nights ago.
“Brie, outside. Now,” he hisses.
I move, breathless, following the path he carved for me earlier. In the hallway the bass still thumps, muffled. I hear shouting, a sharp crack like something expensive falling. Then the concrete shakes as boots hit a stairwell. Security, Dominic says with a voice I didn’t know was in him — and then t
