The air was cold now, the desert’s heat having vanished with the sun. They shared a single blanket, huddled together on the ground.
“I used to dream about this» Beatrice said, her voice a whisper. “When I was filming the third season, I used to sit in my trailer and look at pictures of the desert. I wanted to be somewhere where nobody wanted anything from me.”
Arthur looked at the stars. They were so bright they looked fake, like a backdrop in a London theater.
“I wanted the opposite.” he said. “I wanted everyone to want something from me. I thought that was what success looked like. Being needed by a million strangers.”
Beatrice leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s a hungry kind of life, Arthur. It eats the parts of you that are worth keeping.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Why did you really quit your job? It wasn't just the vlogs, was it?”
Arthur sighed, the sound lost in the wind. “I had a breakdown. A small one. I was sitting in my office, looking at a spreadsheet of 'engagement metrics', and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I’d had a conversation that wasn't about work. I felt like I was disappearing. I thought if I came here, if I did something big, I’d find myself again.”
“And have you?”
Arthur looked at her. He thought about the way his heart raced when she laughed, the way he felt more alive in this dusty, dangerous moment than he ever had in London.
“I think I’m finding someone else” he said. “Someone I like better.”
The intimacy of the moment felt fragile, like a glass bubble. Beatrice reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. She looked at him with a raw vulnerability that no camera could ever capture.
“Kiss me, Arthur.” she breathed. “Before the world finds us again.”
He leaned in, his heart thundering. Their lips met, and for a moment, the manhunt, the managers, and the millions of followers ceased to exist. There was only the taste of salt and woodsmoke, the warmth of her body against his, and the profound realization that he was falling in love with a woman he was supposed to be using for clout.
It was a long, slow kiss that tasted of high stakes and hidden truths. When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless.
“Wow.” Arthur whispered.
Beatrice smiled, a real, radiant smile. “Better than the scripts.”
But the moment was shattered by a low, mechanical hum.
Arthur looked up. High above them, a small red light was blinking. It wasn't a star. It was moving with a steady, purposeful grace.
“A drone.” Arthur hissed, standing up.
The drone descended, its camera swiveling toward them. The firelight made them perfect targets.
“Get in the car!” Arthur yelled.
They scrambled for the Mustang, but the drone followed, hovering just a few feet above the roof. It was a high-end model, the kind used by professional paparazzi or private investigators.
“They found us.” Beatrice said, her voice trembling. “Marcus... he must have hired a recovery team.”
Arthur grabbed his heavy flashlight from the trunk. He aimed the beam at the drone, trying to blind its sensors, but it simply adjusted.
“We have to move.” he said, jumping into the driver’s seat. “If the drone is here, the ground team isn't far behind.”
As he threw the car into gear, he saw another light in the distance. Headlights. Coming fast across the salt flats.
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