The set was dimly lit, the atmosphere heavy with quiet anticipation. A small, cluttered mock-up of JJ’s hideout had been built, filled with worn blankets, old fishing gear, and a flickering lantern that cast shadows on the walls. The smell of fake blood and damp wood hung faintly in the air, blending with the salty tang of the coastal breeze that drifted in from the open soundstage doors.

Crew members whispered as they moved around, adjusting lights and microphones, their movements careful not to disturb the weight of the scene about to unfold. Rudy sat in the corner, leaning against the rough wooden wall, his face bruised with expertly applied makeup. His eyes were downcast, reflecting a quiet intensity as he prepared himself mentally.

Emma stood nearby, her costume a simple hoodie and jeans, perfectly in character as the empathetic rock of the group. She watched him closely, her expression a mix of focus and quiet concern. The director’s soft countdown broke the silence, and for a moment, the entire set held its breath.