Page 3

How are we going to come back from this?

We push through the rest of the set, and the encore, but the energy is fractured, the camaraderie we’ve always relied on shattered. As we take our final bow, the applause feels hollow, the future of our band hanging precariously in the balance.

Backstage, the air is thick with tension. Blaise is nowhere to be found, and Xar’s expression is a storm of anger and hurt. He disappears before I can get a word out, and I’m still none the wiser about what the fuck just happened.

Alone, I slump onto a battered old couch, the weight of the night’s events pressing heavily on my shoulders. The usual post-show buzz is absent, replaced by an oppressive silence that amplifies the uncertainty looming over us.

We’ve faced challenges before, but this feels different. The fractures in our foundation are deepening, and I can’t shake the fear that we might not be able to repair the damage.

As I pack up my personal gear, leaving the kit to the roadies and crew, I can’t help but reflect on how far we’ve come and how close we are to losing it all. Our dream. The one we worked so tirelessly for, could slip through our fingers like holy water. Which means that the road ahead is uncertain, and for the first time, I wonder if our band, ourpack, can truly survive the trials that lie ahead.

BLAISE

The roar of the crowd fades into a dull hum as I step off the stage, each footfall heavy with the weight of Xar’s earlier revelation. He claimed Lena, my girlfriend, had come onto him before the show, and that he had turned her down. The accusation blindsided me, a sucker punch to the gut that left my mind reeling and my heart pounding with a volatile mix of anger and betrayal. And of course, when I flipped the narrative, stating thathemust have come on toherand was only telling me now when she wasn’t here to defend herself, he also sucker punched me. Literally. Right in the fucking face and I can already feel the black eye forming.

Dickhead.

The corridor backstage is dimly lit, the flickering fluorescents casting erratic shadows that mirror my turbulent thoughts. My breaths come in sharp bursts, each inhale laced with the acrid scent of sweat and stale beer. Could Lena really have done that? And why would Xar choose to tell me right before we hit the stage? It feels calculated, a deliberate move to throw me off balance. The tension between us has been simmering for weeks, but this feels like a betrayal that cuts deeper than any creative disagreement. I don’t believe him. Lena isn’t like that. She wouldn’t. So what’s his game here?

Pushing open the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway, I step into the cool night air. The city’s neon lights blur into a kaleidoscope of colours, and the distant hum of traffic offers a strange sense of anonymity. I need to escape, to drown the chaos in my mind with something stronger than the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

The bar I stumble upon is a hole-in-the-wall joint, the kind of place where the broken come to forget. The dim lighting casts long shadows, and the air is thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and unspoken regrets. I slide onto a cracked leather stool, the bartender acknowledging me with a curt nod before pouring a generous measure of amber liquid into a smudged glass. I down it in one gulp, relishing the burn as it sears a path down my throat, momentarily eclipsing the turmoil within.

The hours blur together, each drink blunting the edges of my anger and confusion. I replay Xar’s words over and over, each iteration fuelling the fire that’s been smoldering inside me. Lena’s face flashes in my mind – her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, the eagerness of her touch. Could she really have betrayed me like this? And Xar…we’ve been through hell and back together. Why would he drop this bombshell now?

Besides, we’re a pack. Sharing a woman – even if Lena is a beta not an omega – shouldn’t be that wild of a suggestion.I don’t understand why he and Dane have never shown any interest in Lena. Not only that, but they seem to outwardly dislike her, even if they’re always cautiously polite around her.

Come to think of it, most of the tension between us has been since Lena came into our lives.

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, I pull out my phone and dial Lena’s number. The call connects, and her voice, sweet yet edged with annoyance, filters through.

“Blaisey-boo, it’s late. What’s going on?”

I listen carefully to the noises in the background. Itislate and Lena said she couldn’t come to tonight’s show because she had a migraine. She begged me to pay for a hotel for her so that she could get a decent nights’ sleep. So why can I hear voices? Is she watching a show? It seems too loud, too real for that, like she’s in a club or something…

“I need to know the truth, Lena. Did you come on to Xar?”

There’s a brief pause before she sighs dramatically. I can picture her rolling her heavily made-up eyes, fake lashes fluttering. “Does it matter, boo? You’re always so wrapped up in your little band drama.”

Her dismissive tone sends a chill down my spine. “It matters to me. To us.”

She laughs, a cold, mirthless sound, dropping the falsely-sweet act. In the background a male voice calls ‘come back to bed, sweet cheeks’ and I have to grit my teeth. Who the fuck is that?

“Us? Oh, Blaise. There was never an ‘us.’ Get real. I thought being with you – all three of you – would catapult me into the spotlight. But clearly, I overestimated your band’s abilities, just like all of your sad little fans. I’ve found someone even better to help me with that now. I was going to end it once the hype from your tour died down. Figured you’d be grateful to be thrust back into the spotlight once more.”

The revelation hits like a punch to the gut. “You were using me for fame?”

I don’t love Lena. I know that. But still. To hear the woman I care about talk to me, to talk aboutus,so callously, fucking hurts.

“Isn’t everyone using someone? You used me for a good time. But don’t worry, Blaisey-boo. If you even think about ending things with me without a pay-off, I’ll make sure everyone knows about your little drinking problem. The press would love that, don’t you think?”

Anger surges, burning away the remnants of affection I once held. “Go ahead, Lena. Tell whoever you want. I don’t give a damn anymore. It’s over. And you’re not getting a penny out of me. Get your shit off the tour bus tonight, you fucking leech.”

I end the call, the weight of betrayal settling heavily on my shoulders. Then I quickly fire off a text to our head of security, Marcus, to inform him that after tonight Lena no longer has any security clearance. In his response, he seems glad.

Fuck. Did everyone hate Lena? Was I the only one who fell for her charms?

I’ve been a fucking idiot.