Page 81 of Hymns of the Broken

SAWYER

Riot’s band crashes into their last song, lights and wild energy spilling off the stage. The crowd is a mess of bodies, but I’m not looking at anyone except him. Riot’s hair is everywhere, blonde and wild under the lights, backwards hat hardly hanging on, arms flexing as he hammers out every beat. There’s a cut on his knuckle—fresh, maybe from playing. When he catches my eye, he lifts his hand, thumb tracing a lazy, silent heart over his skin. He grins, cocky, every ounce meant for me.

Next to me, Jasper snorts, not even pretending not to notice. “Enjoy it while I’m allowing it, Sawyer.” His arm finds its way around my waist, fingers digging in just enough to make sure Riot—hell, everyone—knows whose territory I’m on.

And I enjoy it. I enjoy the way Riot plays even harder when he knows I’m watching, the way his gaze lingers on me between every chorus. It feels forbidden, but also thrilling—like I’m something worth fighting for.

When the set ends, the crowd erupts. The guys gather their things, arguing over who won their bets and who’s in charge of finding the best carnival food later. I can’t help but look for Riot as I sling my camera back around my neck, heart still pounding.

He finds me before I even take a step—sweaty, grinning, eyes bright and reckless. “Did you like the show, Hellcat?” His voice was exhausted, but still flirty.

I roll my eyes, but my smile gives me away. “You never disappoint.”

He leansin, close enough for his breath to graze my ear. “Maybe I’ll see you at the carnival tonight. I hear the rides are wild…” his eyes drop deliberately, wicked, his voice dropping even lower, “but not as wild as the thought of you riding me.”

I choke on a laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re bold.”

He grins wider, backing away with a wink. “Have to be with Reign thinking he’s in charge.” As he goes to walk away, he yells, “Save me a seat on the rides.”

Jasper’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling me flush against him as the group moves toward the bus. “Yeah, save him a seat,” he mutters, “but don’t forget whose lap you end up in.”

I bite back a grin, pulse hammering in my throat. God, it’s so messed up how much I love this—the way they circle, the way every look and word feels like a promise that I’ll be torn in half by the end of the night.

We make our way back to the bus, laughter trailing behind us, the air buzzing with fried food and distant music. I barely make it up the steps before Jasper’s already crowding close, fingers brushing up my spine as I hunt through my duffle for something less sweat-soaked.

I end up wearing a ripped black crop top and a high-waisted plaid skirt, with fishnet tights peeking out at the edges. I lace up my combat boots and look in the cracked mirror. It’s a bit goth, a little punk, and the way Jasper’s eyes linger says he likes it.

My camera stays behind tonight. I’ve earned a work-free night. Plus, if it got broken on one of those rides, I’d die.

Jasper changes into a worn-out, sleeveless band tee, his usual ripped black jeans, and a pair of black Converse. His black lip ring looks perfect every time he smirks. When I look up, he’s already watching me like he wants to stay inside and ruin me instead—and I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

But he grabs my hand, anyway. “You ready? Carnival rides, chaos, and me. Let’s see how much trouble you can get into before midnight.”

I grin up at him, pulse racing. “Lead the way, Rockstar.”

***

We spillonto the midway as a group, but the second the lights hit us, chaos takes over.

Ash and Jace disappear immediately—something about funnel cakes and the “impossible” basketball toss. Silas gets roped into a debate with Micah about which ride looks the least likely to kill them, already eyeing the Zipper like he’s planning his own funeral.

Jasper tugs me toward the games, his fingers tight around mine, the heat of his hand a steady reminder of last night’s promises. But when we hit the row of stalls—ring toss, balloon darts, all the usual scams—he shakes his head. “Not wasting money on stuffed animals when I can win something better later,” he murmurs in my ear.

The lights strobe over us, pulsing blue and green. I spot Riot across the midway, already surrounded by a handful of fans, laughing too loud, wild in his backwards cap. He catches my eye from across the crowd—throws me a wink that feels like a dare.

Jasper notices and squeezes my hip. “Enjoy it while you can, Trouble. I plan to have you all to myself by the end of the night.”

I stick my tongue out at him, but my heart stutters. “Better keep up then.”

We dodge through crowds, take turns picking the wildest rides—Tilt-a-Whirl, Scrambler, the Zipper. Jasper keeps one hand on me the whole time, sometimes steadying me when I stumble off the rides dizzy, sometimes just reminding me who I belong to.

By the time we reach the pirate ship ride, everyone’s together again—Silas and Ash, squabbling over who gets the “death seat”, Jace and Micah shoving for the back row, the whole group loud and reckless like a pack of overgrown kids.

Jasper pulls me to the middle row, pulling me in beside him, his arm draped lazily across the back of my seat, and the next thing I know, Riot is squeezing in next to me at the last second—his thigh pressed tight to mine, that cocky little grin on his lips like he planned this all along.

Jasper looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “You sure you can handle this, Riot? Or do you need a hand to hold?”

Riot flashes a lazy smile. “I think Sawyer’s got it covered. She can hold on to me if you get scared, Reign.”