Page 6 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

DANE

I t’s hard to put into words what it feels like to see everything you’ve worked for teetering on the edge of collapse.

The band – my band – was never meant to fall apart this way.

We were a unit, a machine, each of us a cog that made the others turn, a perfect mix of chaos and brilliance.

But now? Now, it feels like we’re drifting apart, like the strings that held us together are snapping one by one.

I watch the others, the weight of their silence pressing down like a storm gathering on the horizon. Blaise looks like he’s been slapped. The remorse in his eyes from earlier has been replaced with something colder, emptier.

He’s withdrawing, and noththing good ever comes from that.

With the way the label execs spoke to Blaise – cold, detached, offering nothing but ultimatums – it’s no surprise he’s so on edge.

I know what it’s like to have your back against the wall, to be treated like an object, a commodity.

But this? This is different. I can feel it in the air, thick with the kind of tension you can’t escape, no matter how much you try to.

Xar sits across from him, his jaw clenched, shoulders tight, his own resentment simmering just under the surface.

He’s pissed. Hell, we all are. But I know him better than anyone – he doesn’t show it easily.

Not like Blaise. Xar’s rage is quiet, calculated, and when it does explode.

..it does so with the force of a freight train.

We’re being sent off to Silver Sands, some remote hellhole in North Devon, as if the label thinks we can just…

fix ourselves out there. As if isolating us from everything and everyone will magically make the music come back, will make everything right again, will mend the strained bonds between us.

But I know better. I’ve been trying to hold us together on this tour – barely.

And I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

But I do know it’ll take a hell of a lot more than isolation, good intentions and cosy cottage vibes.

I run my fingers over the edge of the table, the coldness of it seeping into my skin, grounding me in a way I don’t want to be grounded. I should be pissed, too. We’re being treated like misbehaving children. But there’s something else clawing at me – fear, maybe? Or dread? I’m not sure anymore.

Blaise might be a loose cannon, but he’s our loose cannon.

The execs, even Liv, our manager, might not get it, but I do.

I’ve seen what it’s like to be suffocated by your own talent, to feel like you’re spiralling out of control and not knowing how to pull yourself back.

But this – this is different. The label’s making an example of him, of us all, like we’re expendable.

And that’s what’s scaring me the most. I don’t want to lose what we’ve worked so hard for.

Then there’s Xar. His cold silence is the worst part.

I know him better than to think he’s just sulking, but I also know he’s this close to snapping.

And if he does, if he and Blaise go head to head out there in Silver Sands, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

They’re both volatile, both capable of destruction, but in completely different ways.

Blaise has always been the wild card – the one who burns everything down and dares you to follow.

Xar, though…Xar is the one who doesn’t need to burn anything.

He’ll build something from the ashes and leave everyone else behind, never looking back.

But if these two are at odds, it could be a bloodbath.

I’m supposed to be the one holding us together, the steady one, the one who keeps the ship from sinking.

But right now, I’m not even sure I can keep my own head above water, let alone theirs.

There’s so much pressure, so much responsibility, on my shoulders and I feel like I’m about to finally crumble under the weight.

And somehow we’re expected to come together, fix our shit, and be creative? Fucking ridiculous. I’m not a miracle worker.

I drag my hand through my hair and glance around the room. The rest of the band – Liv included – seem like they’re all stuck in a collective daze, too stunned to say anything more. We all know what’s at stake. Our future, our careers, our relationships – it’s all hanging by a thread.

The execs leave in a flurry of polite smiles and clipped goodbyes, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging thick in the air. The second the door closes behind them, the silence shifts – heavier now, less rehearsed.

Liv doesn’t move.

She crosses her arms, her expression carved from stone. “Alright,” she says, sharp and cold. “Someone want to tell me what the hell really happened last night?”

No one answers.

She looks between us, waiting. Daring us.

Xar doesn’t even flinch. He just says one word. “Lena.”

The silence turns radioactive.

Liv exhales through her nose like she’s trying not to explode. “Are you serious? Lena ? She’s screwing with you again ?”

Literally. Or at least trying to. Vulture.

Blaise bristles, already defensive. “She’s out of the picture.”

“She better be,” Liv snaps. “Because I swear to god, if you let that girl come between you again – between the band – you’re going to burn everything you’ve built to the fucking ground and she’ll be the one handing you the lit match.”

“She’s gone,” he says, more forcefully now. “For good.”

Liv stares at him for a long moment, measuring whether she believes him. Then she nods – once, slow. “Good. Then sort your shit out before you drag us all down with you.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks out, heels echoing like gunshots on the tile.

The moment the door shuts, Xar rounds on Blaise. “She should’ve been gone months ago.”

“She is now ,” he snaps back. “That’s all that matters. I’m handling it.”

“No,” he growls. “You’re ignoring it. You always do this – let someone in, let them mess with your head, and we’re the ones left cleaning up the wreckage.”

My jaw tightens as I watch them bicker, helpless.

I could stop it, but I think this needs to happen.

Shit needs to be said. It’s a bit shitty for Xar to drag up old wounds, but at the same time, I understand that it’s coming from a place of fear.

Maybe they both just need to get this out of their system.

Stop tiptoeing around our issues, air our dirty laundry and get it over with, so that we can move on once and for all.

“Don’t pretend like this is all on me.”

“You stormed offstage, Blaise. In front of a packed house. In front of execs .”

“I know what I did.”

Xar steps forward, eyes blazing. “Then maybe own it for once.”

Blaise looks ready to fire back – already halfway to saying something I’m sure he’ll regret – but I stand up, the chair scraping sharply against the floor. The sound cuts through the tension like lightning as I move between them, calm and quiet.

Like a wall made of stone.

“Enough,” I say, voice low. Firm. “Not here. Not now.”

Xar glares at Blaise for another long moment before backing off with a muttered curse, dragging a hand through his long, messy hair.

The room falls quiet again, the kind of silence that hums with everything unsaid.

I grab my bag off the chair and sling it over my shoulder. If we’re leaving shortly, I need to pack some shit. Doesn’t matter that they’ve already shipped my drum kit, I still need to gather personal items and supplies.

“Hope you boys are ready for a long, tense-ass drive to Devon,” I mutter, heading for the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Xar glances up at me, his expression unreadable. Blaise doesn’t even look at me – he’s still staring at the table, his face shadowed in a way that makes me wish I could knock some sense into him. Just because I get it doesn’t mean I’m not mad at him too.

But there’s nothing left to say. Nothing that’ll fix this. All I can do is lead them into the next battle. I just hope we all make it out alive.

Yeah.

It’s going to be a hell of a ride.

Fun.