Page 1 of Hymns of the Broken

Chapter 1

SAWYER

How did I end up here?

On my way to a metal concert to meet my best friend, Macee, so she can sneak me backstage with her while she works. She’s shooting the show for her job at Darklight Media. This is a top-tier visual agency that specializes in live tour photography, behind-the-scenes content, and raw visual storytelling.

She’s trying to get me in.

Which is exciting, terrifying, and precisely the impulsive decision I pretend I don’t make. Because nothing screams ‘professionalism’ like slipping past security in combat boots with a camera bag and eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.

Macee always had the connections. I just had the camera and the obsession.

We used to shoot weddings together in Vegas—messy, underpaid, and full of impulsive tourists making the worst decisions of their lives. She quit after she caught the groom cheating on the bride (with the maid of honor) twenty minutes before the ceremony. She took a shot of them together and showed the bride, who said Macee was unprofessional for “photoshopping proof into her memories.”

So she didn’t say another word and shot the wedding. Every posed smile, every lie in white lace. She sent the gallery, deleted her contacts, and declared she was done selling fairy tales to people who didn’t deserve them.

Afterward, she got a job at Darklight and immediately fell in love with the chaos that comes with the job.

She’s been with Darklight ever since.

Me? I stayed behind. I played it safe, convincing myself that it was practical. I told myself that Blake needed my help. I convinced myself I wasn’t ready.

But after all the late-night phone calls, the horror stories, the road stories, and everything in between… I think I’m finally ready to risk something new.

Something scary.

Something selfish.

Something for me.

I’m Sawyer Morrigan, by the way. But if this goes badly, I was never here.

My phone buzzes for the third time in a minute. I don’t even have to look. It’s him.

I swipe up far enough to read the previews.

Blake:“You didn’t even say goodbye. Real professional.”

Blake:“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see you before you left.”

Blake:“Answer your fucking phone, Sawyer!”

Charming as ever. The whiplash is so familiar that my stomach twists before my brain can even catch up. He always starts hurt, misunderstood, right before the leash snaps tight.

I drop the phone into my bag before I can change my mind. My fingers hover for a second, itching to pick it back up. But I don’t. Not today.

Macee said I should’ve left him six months ago, but he’s smart. Strategic. He knows exactly how much to say without crossing a line that other people can see.

Not yet, anyway.

The venue looms in front of me like a cathedral built for chaos. Black walls, flickering signage, the pulse of the bass leaking out from the inside like a warning. There is something unholy about it.

People are already lining up outside, wrapped in leather, lace, fishnets, and enough eyeliner to summon a demon. The air hums with anticipation, smoke, and the scent of something sweet and burned.

And here I am, fumbling with my camera bag and trying not to panic. My heart is pounding like I’m going into a war zone instead of a concert.

This is real.