Two thoughts go through my mind.
One: If we break character now, this whole shot is ruined.
Two: I saw the airbag. I didn’t hear the radio call out an issue. Do I trust Christine or the stunt crew more?
I trust the stunt crew.
The show goes on.
I snarl—it’s not hard, with the pain—and haul my body weight up with my core, planting my feet against the lower edge of the door.
I flash the Thunder Stone in my free hand, taunting Electra, and Melinoë’s voice rings in my mind.
If I can’t have it, then neither can you.
I tense the muscles in my dislocated arm as much as I can, then kick off the door, yanking my arm out of Christine’s grip.
As I fall headfirst, Christine’s anguished cry follows me.
In that moment, I don’t know if I’m Melinoë gaining the upper hand or Mylo falling to my death.
The red circle gets closer.
At the last second, I tuck and roll, bringing my back into contact with the airbag as I brace wide with my legs and good arm.
I’m alive.
With a dislocated fucking shoulder.
“I’m good!” I yell.
There’s only a second before I’ll be swarmed by concerned stunt crew. I take a deep breath, try to relax on the exhale, and wrench my shoulder back into place with a lowpop. It’s not the first time I’ve dislocated a shoulder; hypermobile joints will do that to you.
It fucking hurts, but nothing’s permanently torn, and it’ll heal fast: one of the few perks of being an omega, I guess.
I work my way carefully off the bag, leading with a thumbs-up with my good arm.
Bella hurries over. “Mylo! Are you okay?”
“Yep. All good. Just need to walk this off.” I rotate the injured shoulder to keep it from freezing up, gritting my teeth at the pain.
When I give a thumbs-up with both hands, most of the crew relaxes. Bella sends a couple of them to go get ice and nods at Gabriel to tell Lana I’m fine.
Then it’s just me and Bella there, and she leans close.
“Mylo, are you sure you’re alright? I heard your shoulder over the mic.”
Yeah, that about tracks. “Bark’s worse than the bite.”
“A shoulder’s a big deal.”
“Exactly,” I say quietly. “And I can finish shooting.”
Bella looks me in the eyes, and I know she’s trying to see through me. “Mylo…”
“It’s happened before. I swear, it’s fine.”
“You don’t have to be honest with anyone else,” she whispers, “but you have to be honest with me.”
