20. Jerome

Chapter 20

Jerome

T he cacophony of the studio lot was music to industry veterans—a symphony of shouts, the clack of the slate, and the persistent murmur of background actors rehearsing lines. Through it all, Raven Fields moved with grace. The late afternoon sun spotlighting her as she prepared for the next take.

"Quiet on set!" the director called out, and like an ensemble at rest, the bustling lot fell silent, awaiting the conductor's baton.

"Action!"

I watched from the sidelines, my vigilant eyes scanning the perimeter even as I admired Raven's performance. My instincts were honed to perfection. I could spot trouble in the way a person shifted their weight or narrowed their eyes.

And there—across the lot, leaning against the fake facade of a storefront—a guy stood out like a sore thumb. Not because of his ordinary looks, plain features nestled under a nondescript cap, but because of the intensity that radiated from him. His eyes, dark and unblinking, were fixed on Raven with the kind of focus that sent a chill down my spine.

"Cut! That's perfect, Raven," the director praised, snapping me back to the present as applause erupted around me.

"Thanks, Brian," Raven's voice cut through the chatter, her confidence never wavering even as she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. "I think we nailed it."

"Absolutely," I muttered under my breath, eyes still locked on the figure who now seemed to realize I'd attracted unwanted attention. The man's stance stiffened, and my gaze darted away, but not before I caught the subtle clench of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

"Something wrong?" Raven asked, catching up to me, who hadn't realized I'd started moving toward the mysterious watcher.

"Nothing for you to worry about," I replied, my protective nature flaring despite my best efforts to keep it under wraps. "Just need to check on something."

Raven observed me for a moment, her expressive eyes searching my face.

His stride was purposeful as I made my way through the sea of equipment and crew members. But the guy had vanished, melting into the crowd as effectively as a shadow at dusk.

My hand instinctively rested on the concealed weapon at my hip, a habit from my years in service. The guy might have disappeared for now, but my gut told him this wouldn't be the last time I would see that intense gaze fixated on Raven Fields. And I would be ready.

"Raven," I said in a low voice, eyes scanning the bustling studio lot for another glimpse of the man who'd vanished into the crowd. "When you have a moment, we need to talk."

She paused, her hand hovering over a prop on the nearby table, and looked up at me, curiosity lighting up her face. "Talk about what? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing serious. Just... I noticed someone earlier, watching you a bit too intently." My words were casual, but my gaze was anything but.

"Watching me?" Raven's brows furrowed, the script in her hand momentarily forgotten. "Who?"

I hesitated, not wanting to alarm her unnecessarily, yet the protective instinct that threaded through every fiber of my being refused to be silenced. "I'm not sure, but he stood out to me. It could be nothing, but my gut says otherwise."

"Someone from the crew? Or...?" Her surprise was evident, a slight quiver in her voice betraying her confusion.

"Couldn't tell. But he had this look, Raven. Like he was fixating on you." I watched as Raven's posture stiffened, her strong-willed nature coming to the fore as she processed my words.

"Fixating on me?" The disbelief in her tone was clear, and she shook her head, her dark curls bouncing with the motion. "That's... unexpected. Why would anyone here..."

"Unexpected, yes, but not impossible." I spoke calmly, trying to ease the tension I saw building in her shoulders. "You're not just anyone, Raven. You know that."

"Still, it doesn't make sense," Raven argued, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area. For a moment, she looked like she might challenge me further, but then her gaze softened. "Thank you, though. For keeping an eye out. I—I appreciate it."

"Always," I affirmed, my commitment to her safety as unwavering as ever. I noticed the subtle relaxation in her frame and hoped his assurance had comforted her, at least for now.

My gaze lingered on the man in question, a shadow among the stage lights. "He was tall… brooding… had a camera in his hand."

"Of course," Raven replied, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Daniel… He was the second assistant on that indie film I did years back. He was always so quiet, kept to himself mostly."

"Okay." I nodded, watching as the man disappeared behind a prop wall. "He's been around you more than anyone else, I've noticed. Seems like old connections run deep."

"We were practically kids then. Shared a few laughs, some late-night coffee runs during shoots. There was nothing strange about him... just dedicated, maybe a bit intense, about his work."

"Intensity can be misleading. It can hide other... interests," I pointed out, my protective instincts flaring beneath the calm exterior.

"Maybe," she conceded, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But Daniel? He never struck me as obsessive. Just passionate about filmmaking. Besides, he moved on to bigger projects after ‘Whispering Shadows'. Why would he circle back now, and for what? To spook me?"

"Passions can turn into obsessions, Raven. You know that better than most," I said softly, recalling the numerous fans who crossed lines with their devotion to her.

"True," she admitted, "but stalking? That's a leap. And he's been in the industry too long to risk it all by pulling stunts like that. No, the real stalker is still out there, Jerome, and I intend to unmask them. With or without Daniel being involved."

"Your determination is one of the many reasons I admire you," I said, voice laced with respect. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Whoever this is, they've already proven they're not playing games."

"Careful is my middle name," Raven quipped. "And I'm not alone. I have you, don't I?"

"Until the end," I affirmed, the silent vow echoing in my steady gaze.

I watched Raven with an intensity that matched the studio's buzzing energy. My gaze swept from her to the figure lingering on the fringes of the set. A man whose attention seemed unusually focused on Raven.

"Let's get back to work," Raven finally said, stepping back but holding my gaze a moment longer.

"Lead the way," I responded, offering my arm like a shield and a promise, watching as she took it with a grace. Together, we turned towards the set, steps in sync.