In the extras’ rest area, Keegan Lowell and a group of fellow background actors were lounging against the wall. They were either tapping away on their phones or chatting while waiting for their next call time.
Just then, an assistant director walked over with a megaphone and cleared his throat.
"Hey! We’re adding a scene last minute!
"We need six background guards over at the Southgate wall this afternoon."
Wasting no time, the assistant director picked up his roster and began picking names seemingly at random.
"Trevor Campbell... and you, Tony Lowell, you go too!
"And you, you, you, you, and you!"
Hearing his name called, Keegan felt no surprise at all; in fact, he almost wanted to laugh. Standing in the distance as part of the background was the easiest job in the world. The cameras would be focused entirely on the main cast. Background extras like them wouldn’t even have their faces captured on film. If they got tired of standing, they could even squint and sneak a quick nap. A job where he could slack off and still get paid was an absolute favorite of his.
He and the other five selected extras stood up and followed a production assistant toward the secluded Southgate wall. As they moved further away from the main shooting area, the bustling voices and noisy music gradually faded away.
The surroundings were far too quiet. Keegan’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
Ever since he became a fugitive, he had hidden himself among the background actors. He knew better than anyone what kind of people extras usually were. Aside from a few naive youngsters who still dreamed of becoming overnight sensations, the vast majority were just there to coast by. They wouldn’t move a second earlier than they had to, and they would never stand if they could sit. They walked with a sluggish, lazy gait, always looking to save every last ounce of energy.
However, the five men walking beside him were distinctly different from ordinary extras. Their walking posture seemed casual, but the distance of each stride was perfectly uniform. Their backs were ramrod straight, completely lacking the loose, slouching demeanor typical of background actors. Even worse, the production assistant leading the group kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, whether intentionally or not.
An intense sense of danger shot from Keegan’s tailbone straight to the crown of his head like an electric current. The beast-like intuition he had honed through years of life on the run was screaming alarms in his mind.
He knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Completely and utterly wrong!
Swallowing nervously, he forced his face to remain completely expressionless. As they reached a corner, Keegan suddenly clutched his stomach.
"Ouch, no, no, that boxed lunch earlier must have gone bad. Those bastards!
"Guys, I need to hit the restroom first! I’ll be right back!"
Still clutching his stomach, Keegan veered off toward the fork in the road. This path did indeed lead to the scenic area’s public restrooms, but it also led straight up Mount Aeridor. From his physical gestures to his facial expressions, Keegan’s performance was flawless. Even a top-tier acting coach would have praised his profound acting skills in that moment.
Unfortunately for him, his audience wasn’t an acting coach, but a squad of highly experienced detectives.
Morris Wright, the captain leading the team, had been keeping a tight watch on Keegan’s every move out of the corner of his eye. The moment Keegan’s gaze shifted, Morris knew the cunning fox had caught the scent of danger.
He realized their cover was blown.
Although they hadn’t yet reached the designated beacon tower, this spot was secluded enough, far from the tourists and the main hub of the production crew. They couldn’t wait any longer.
A deadly glint flashed in Morris’s eyes as he issued the command without a second of hesitation, "Move!"
Before his voice even faded, he blurred into motion, lunging at Keegan like a hunting cheetah. The four extras trailing behind Keegan moved at the exact same instant. Tearing off their disguises like ravenous wolves, they locked down every possible escape route from four different directions. The five men coordinated flawlessly. Their lightning-fast movements formed an airtight encirclement.
Keegan’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. He had been exposed!
In an instant, the blood drained from Keegan’s face, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn’t figure out where he had slipped up. For the past five years, he had been hiding in the shadows, cycling through countless false identities. Not even his biological parents knew he was hiding here. How on earth had the police found him?
However, there was no time left to dwell on that now. The sheer instinct to survive overpowered all his fear.
A ferocious glint erupted in Keegan’s eyes. Like a cornered, maddened beast, he let out a guttural roar. He ducked sharply, narrowly dodging Morris’s attempt to put him in a chokehold. Simultaneously, his right hand shot to his waist, drawing a switchblade hidden beneath his clothes with lightning speed.
"Watch out!" Morris barked out the warning, but his movements didn’t pause. He brought down a brutal elbow strike aiming straight for Keegan’s back.
Keegan took the hit head-on. A trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but he used the momentum of the blow to surge forward, wildly thrusting his dagger at the SWAT officer blocking his path.
"Get out of my way!"
The officer reacted swiftly, sidestepping the strike, but the razor-sharp tip of the blade still slashed across his arm, sending a string of blood beads flying into the air. The sight of blood only stimulated Keegan further. He grew even more frenzied, the dagger spinning in his hands into a dazzling blur of cold steel.
However, he wasn’t facing ordinary men; these were the absolute best close-quarters combat elites of the SWAT team.
In the split second their comrade sustained a minor injury, the other three officers closed the distance. A lightning-fast roundhouse kick struck his knife-wielding wrist. The agonizing pain forced his grip to give out.
CLANG!
The switchblade fell onto the flagstone path. The very next second, the remaining two officers flanked him from the left and right, securely locking his arms. With a flawless grappling maneuver, they pinned his entire body to the ground. Morris quickly stepped up, driving his knee heavily into Keegan’s back, and swiftly bound the man’s hands with heavy-duty zip ties.
From the first move to total subjugation, the entire struggle took no more than a dozen seconds.
"Keegan Lowell! It’s a wrap on your performance!" Morris’s voice rang in Keegan’s ears like a judgment straight from hell.
Pinned immovably to the ground, Keegan gasped violently for air, his cheek pressed against the freezing flagstones. He struggled, twisting his body in unyielding defiance, but the hands holding him down felt like cast iron. He couldn’t move an inch.
He had lost.
For five years, he had lived every single day in absolute terror of being caught, and yet, he had still fallen into their trap in the end. He simply couldn’t fathom it. His act had been so utterly flawless—how had he exposed himself?
Meanwhile, in another location.
The sunlight in Aethel was perfect, and the surface of Lake Cyrillian sparkled, as if dusted with a layer of crushed diamonds. Wendy Lynch and Charlotte Lynch were each riding a pink electric scooter, cruising leisurely along the lakeside highway.
"Wendy, drive faster!
"Look at how beautiful the scenery is over there! Let’s go take some pictures!"
Charlotte yelled excitedly from ahead, the autumn breeze lifting her long hair, making her look like a carefree sprite. Wendy replied with a smile and was just about to speed up.
Right at that moment, the phone in her pocket buzzed.