Serenya's POV
The guard blocks the corridor, one hand already on his radio.
The music from the main hall thuds faintly through the walls, but it feels miles away now.
“You’re not staff,” he says, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing back here?”
I stop short, pretending to glance around like I’m lost. “Oh—sorry. I was just looking for the restroom.”
He doesn’t move. “Restroom’s the other way.”
“I must’ve taken the wrong turn,” I say quickly, forcing a nervous laugh. My fingers tighten around my bag. “I thought this led to the dressing rooms.”
He steps closer, the smell of smoke and sweat rolling off him. “You think I’m stupid? Nobody comes back here unless they’re working.”
“I just finished performing,” I insist, my voice light but careful. “Maybe you saw me sing onstage?”
He scans
