As the studio lights flickered off one by one, Aris walked toward the exit with heavy steps. His body was present, but his mind was still back in that interrogation room, tangled in the painful wreckage of Marcus's past. Using "The Sight" was like circulating someone else's poison through his own veins; right now, all he felt was a deep nausea and a throbbing headache.
Just as he headed for the main gate, a massive black car with tinted windows cut him off. The rear window slid down slowly. Marcus Thorne sat on the leather seat in the dim interior light, holding a glass. There was no trace of the vulnerability from the set; he looked once again like a monument of absolute power.
"Get in," Marcus said. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command.
Aris hesitated, but there was no way out. When he stepped into the car, the heavy scent of leather and expensive tobacco stung his throat. The car began to move in silence.
"Nice trick," Marcus said, not looking at Aris. "Where did you dig up that info? Did Julian tell you? Or were you just reading tabloid trash about me back in your pathetic little town?"
"I didn't research anyone," Aris said, his voice raspy with exhaustion. "I just... I felt it in the moment, during the scene."
Marcus turned suddenly, his eyes as sharp as a predator's. "Don't lie to me! That line wasn't a coincidence. I don't know who you're working for, but understand this: This isn't Eldoria. People here don't exist because of their talent; they exist because men like me allow them to."
Marcus reached out and slowly straightened the collar of Aris's jacket. The gesture looked friendly, but it was a clear threat. "The director loved what he saw today. He wants to expand your role. And I gave him my permission. But don't mistake that for a victory."
Marcus let that famous, fake smile spread across his face. "I'm keeping you close so I can figure out exactly what you are. If you try to crawl into my head again, I will erase you from this industry so thoroughly you won't even recognize your own reflection. Do you understand?"
Aris didn't answer. Through The Sight, he felt the raw fear pulsing beneath Marcus's anger, but this time, he forced himself to shut it out. He was too tired to care.
The car pulled up in front of Aris's modest hotel. As Aris stepped out, Marcus called after him:
"Be on set early tomorrow, 'Informant.' You have more scenes now. Let's see if that 'improvisation' talent of yours holds up under real pressure."
Aris didn't even turn on the lights when he entered his room. He sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. Marcus's threat was only the beginning. The real problem was that the more Aris saw of Marcus's darkness, the more he felt his own light fading away.