Chapter 2

Matthew' s smile was expectant, waiting for me to nod and take the broken girl off his hands. The crew was watching. His public image was everything.

"No," I said. The word was quiet, but it cut through the noise of the set.

Matthew' s smile flickered.

"What was that, buddy?" he asked, his voice still light, but with an edge.

"I said no," I repeated, louder this time, stepping forward so more people could hear. "I can' t, Matthew."

He stood up, his posture shifting from concerned hero to annoyed superior.

"What do you mean you can' t? She' s hurt. We have to help." He was playing to the crowd, painting me as callous.

"Exactly," I said, looking not at him, but at the concerned faces of the crew members around us. "She' s hurt. She needs real help. You' re the face of this studio, the First Senior Brother. You have the resources, the connections. I' m just the second-in-command. What can I offer her? A ride to the clinic in my beat-up Civic?"

I gestured to him, to his perfectly tailored jacket and confident stance.

"You' re Matthew Scott. You can get her the best doctors, make sure the studio covers everything. It' s the right thing to do. A man of your standing... you wouldn' t let her fall through the cracks, would you?"

I had him. I had used his own image-obsessed nature against him. He couldn' t refuse to help without looking like a complete fraud in front of everyone. His charm was his greatest weapon, and I had just turned it into a cage.

He was trapped. His jaw tightened.

"Of course," he said through a forced smile. "Of course, I' ll take care of both of them. It' s my duty."

He shot me a look that promised payback, but I felt a cold, satisfying victory. I had changed the past.

Then, something impossible happened.

Jocelyn, the injured girl on the ground, looked past Matthew. Her eyes, filled with a desperate, familiar panic, found mine.

"No," she whispered, struggling to sit up. "I want to go with him. Please. I' ll go with Andrew."

I froze. Her eyes... it wasn' t the look of a star-struck extra. It was the look of someone who knew me. Someone who knew what was about to happen.

She was reborn, too.

My blood ran cold. The shock was quickly replaced by a wave of pure, icy rage. She wanted to come with me now? After she' d sent me to my death?

I looked down at her, my face a mask of indifference.

"I' m sorry," I said, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "Like I said, I don' t have the resources to help you. You' re better off with Matthew."

I turned and walked away, not looking back at the utter devastation on her face. I could feel her stare burning into my back, but I didn' t care.

She made her choice in our last life. Now she could live with it.