Freya’s POV
I didn’t know what shocked me more—seeing Stella and Kerwin at Stripped Silk, or the fact that they were together.
What were they doing here?
My first instinct wasn’t curiosity—it was survival.
I spun around and ducked into the nearest room, heart thudding against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
The backstage dressing room was dimly lit, a row of mirrors flickering with half-dead bulbs. A few folded costumes lay in open bins, sequins catching stray glints of red light.
I locked the door behind me and tried to breathe.
Then I stared at my reflection, adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. No makeup could fix what panic did to your face. My pulse throbbed under my jaw. My hands were shaking.
I couldn’t be seen like this.
Then my eyes caught something—half-buried beneath a feather boa, hanging from a mannequin head like a forgotten accessory.
A mask.