Chapter Ten— The Author Arrives
The sun hadn't even fully risen over Lumera when I got the call from my assistant:
"Set is ready. Cameras rolling at 7:30. Inara Solace is expected around 10 a.m."
I swallowed. Inara Solace. The name made my stomach twist. The reclusive author of The Last Page — the woman whose words I'd been living inside for months now, suddenly stepping into my real life.
I was 22. Twenty-two years old. Old enough to know what I was doing, young enough to still feel like someone was watching my every move. But nothing could have prepared me for today.
I stepped onto the lot, my midnight-blue hair tucked under a casual ponytail, oversized jacket draped over my shoulders. My music headphones were in, trying to drown out the adrenaline buzzing under my skin. "Midnight Theory" pulsed softly, the lyrics strangely fitting, like someone had written them for moments exactly like this.
Axel was already on set, leaning against a prop bookshelf, arms crossed. He looked impossibly calm in black jeans and a white shirt. I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves — that same kind of quiet intensity he always had, the one that made it impossible to forget him even years later.
I approached, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "Morning."
He tilted his head, eyes sharp. "You look… awake."
"Barely," I muttered, adjusting my script. "Ready for another day of pretending I'm not terrified."
He smirked. "I think that's called method acting."
We walked into the studio together, passing crew members hustling around with cameras, lighting rigs, and coffee. Every step reminded me how long I'd been in this industry — since I was sixteen, dragged into auditions, press events, music promotions, interviews, and the endless cycle of public approval and critique. I'd learned to smile through exhaustion, to cry on cue, to be a star while my own heart quietly waited in the wings.
Axel caught my gaze again, almost as if he could see the storm behind my practiced calm. I quickly looked away, focusing on the set instead: a bookstore, warm lighting, endless shelves. The air smelled like paper, coffee, and nerves.
We began the day with rehearsals, running lines. The tension between us was palpable — every glance, every brush of our hands over props charged with electricity. The director, Miles, was a whirlwind of energy and perfection, snapping orders like a conductor with a hyperactive orchestra.
"Take twenty-three!" he called, signaling us to the first on-camera scene.
I faced Axel — Calen — and felt that familiar fire. The lines, the movements, the pauses, all required timing, control… restraint. But restraint with Axel was impossible. He read me like I was an open book, every inflection answered by some unspoken truth.
Nora: "You think you can just walk back into my life?"
Calen: "I've never left."
I blinked. He leaned closer than the script demanded, eyes impossibly calm, and for a second it wasn't acting. My throat tightened.
Nora: "You don't get it. You never get it."
Calen: "Maybe I do. Maybe that's why I'm still here."
Miles barked "cut!" but no one moved. The room was tense — the crew holding their breath, somehow sensing the electricity between us.
I couldn't look at him without my chest tightening. Axel, who had always been infuriatingly perfect, was… human. Vulnerable in that quiet, dangerous way.
By mid-morning, whispers rippled through the set: Inara Solace is here.
I froze for a moment, my heart skipping.
The author. She was real. She was here.
From the corner of the studio, I saw her.
Inara Solace — tall, ethereal, with chestnut hair falling softly over her shoulders. Her heterochromatic eyes caught the light — one deep green, one golden-brown. They were sharp, observant, and made me feel simultaneously seen and exposed. Her features were delicate, refined, almost otherworldly, and the quiet grace she carried made the room seem to slow down around her.
She carried a notebook in one hand, pen tucked behind her ear, and wore a simple cream blouse with tailored pants — unassuming but impossible to ignore.
Axel noticed her first. His posture stiffened, a subtle tightening at the edge of his jaw. He had no reason to be unsettled by a woman he'd never met, but something about Inara Solace commanded attention. Even him.
She stepped closer to observe the set. Her gaze lingered on me briefly — studying, weighing, as if she could see every nuance in my performance. My pulse jumped. Was I really that transparent?
"Ms. Everglow," Miles said, gesturing. "Inara, this is Sienna. And of course, Axel, our leading man."
I swallowed. "Hi. It's… an honor."
She smiled faintly, that mysterious smile that made me want to ask a hundred questions and be afraid of the answers. "Sienna, I've seen your past performances. I'm curious how you'll bring Nora to life."
Axel inclined his head. "I'm sure she'll do more than bring her to life. She'll make her bleed into reality."
Inara's eyes flicked to him, one brow slightly raised. "I'll be watching," she said softly, and then turned her attention back to the set.
Even from across the room, her presence demanded focus. She was quiet, yes, but it was the kind of quiet that filled the space with tension.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of scenes. Every take, every interaction, felt heavier with her gaze hovering nearby.
Sienna caught herself watching Axel more than usual, noticing the way his hand lingered on the prop book, or the subtle exhale before a line. He noticed her watching too, and each glance felt like a spark being fanned into a flame.
By lunch, the crew had grown used to her presence, but the tension hadn't dissipated. Sienna's chest still twisted every time Inara jotted something in her notebook while silently observing her, while Axel moved around the set like a predator wrapped in charm.
"You okay?" Axel asked quietly during a break, leaning against a pillar.
I nodded. "I'm fine. Just… aware of our audience today."
He smirked faintly. "You mean more than usual?"
"Always more than usual," I admitted.
He laughed, soft, dangerous. "I don't think anyone has ever been this terrifying while standing still."
"Congratulations," I muttered. "You're officially the first person to make me feel normal."
Axel's smile softened — almost human, almost… like he wanted to reach out and test that boundary. But he didn't.
And then, Inara moved. Quietly, effortlessly, to watch the next scene. Her notebook open, eyes scanning every gesture, every pause, every glance between me and Axel. She made no sound, but I could feel the weight of her presence pressing down on us both.
It wasn't intimidating. Not exactly.
It was… profound.
By the time the cameras stopped rolling, my limbs felt heavy, my chest tight. The day had been long, but exhilarating.
I stepped outside for fresh air, and the late afternoon sun spilled over the lot, lighting Axel in a way that made me want to run… and stay… all at once.
"You survived," he said, voice low, walking beside me.
"I survived," I replied, "but I don't know about my sanity."
He chuckled, and for a moment, it was easy — the tension easing, just a little. But as I glanced back at the studio, I caught Inara Solace's shadow moving silently by the set doors. Her gaze locked on me for a brief second — sharp, calculating, like she already knew something I didn't.
And I knew, somehow, this was only the beginning.