Page 8 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

Seeing Laney outside in the line as I did my habitual walkabout before the concert had seemed like fate.

Before every concert, I like to get out and take in the atmosphere, the excitement, and let it burn through my veins.

Being close to the fans is the part I love the most, knowing I elicited that excitement, is heady.

I smile as I walk away, adjusting my cap lower over my face. Seeing Laney’s reaction had been almost too good. Part of me wanted to turn around, to see the exact moment she realizes she’s getting into the concert because of me.

But I don’t. Not yet. That asshole ex of hers makes me want to crumble his face into dust. How could anyone treat a woman like her as anything but the princess she was?

I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message to my manager.

Make sure those girls get the VIP treatment.

I give him Laney’s name and say she is with a friend and can practically hear his confused reply forming, but I shove my phone back into my pocket before it can come through.

I should be focusing on the show. On the tour. On the thousands of people who’ll be screaming my lyrics back to me in a matter of hours. But instead, my mind keeps drifting to her.

Laney.

Ever since that night in the park, her voice has been playing in my head like a song I can’t shake. That raw, soulful sound—it has gotten under my skin.

And I’m not sure I want it to leave.

But Lucas’s warning still echoes in my ears. She’s not someone you mess with. I wasn’t trying to mess with her. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m trying to do. But the thought of her walking away tonight thinking I haven’t thought about her, doesn’t sit right.

Even if the timing is shit. Even if I’m about to hit the road for months.

I adjust my cap and head backstage, my heart thrumming a little harder than it should.

Backstage is a controlled storm of movement. Crew members dash past, adjusting mic levels, checking stage cues, and coordinating last-minute details. The hum of amplifiers and the distant soundcheck of an opening band echoes through the cavernous space.

I grab a mug of warm lemon and honey from a table, taking a slow sip. The warmth soothes my throat, but it does nothing for the knots tightening in my stomach.

Dizzy, my Viking of a drummer, claps a heavy hand on my back. “Ready to blow some minds tonight, boss?”

I smirk. “Always.”

Isla, my badass bassist, tunes her instrument with practiced ease. “Better be. The crowd’s already wild out there.”

Jay, ever the mellow one, leans against his keyboard. “Man, I love this energy. Feels like a good night.”

Lola and Katie, my backup singers, warm up their voices nearby. Lola shoots me a grin. “You gonna make ’em cry with ‘Midnight Dune’ again?”

I exhale, rolling my shoulders. “Thinking about dedicating it tonight.”

Jay arches a brow. “Anyone special?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I take another sip of my drink, letting the chaos of backstage fade around me. My mind is already somewhere else, caught between the music, the past, and the girl whose voice I can’t get out of my head.

Tonight, ‘Midnight Dune’ is for her.

I stand just behind the curtain, the roar of the crowd vibrating through my chest. The opening band had just wrapped up, their lead singer hyping the audience one last time. The energy is electric, a crackling force that surges through my veins. This is the moment I live for.

I pop in my earpiece as my name echoes through the stadium, the screams hitting a fever pitch. My pulse thrums in sync with the pounding beat of the intro music.

Stepping forward, I cast a gaze over the crowd, my eyes instinctively searching for her.

And then I see her.

Laney stands in the VIP section with her friend, her expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. The stadium lights flash across her face, illuminating the stunned look in her eyes. I can’t help it—I smile and tip my cowboy hat before winking. Then, turning back to my band, I nod.

Dizzy grins, tapping his drumsticks together.

Isla snickers, her fingers flying over her bass in a mini solo that has the crowd going wild.

Jay turns his baseball cap backward, shaking his head with an easy smile as he plays the opening keys.

Women in the audience scream our names, and I soak it all in, letting the energy flood my veins.

Gripping the mic, I let the noise settle just enough before speaking. “Damn, it feels good to be home,” I say, my voice raw with feeling. The stadium erupts, waves of cheers crashing against the stage.

I grin. “I missed y’all. Let’s make this one hell of a night!”

And with that, the music explodes, and the show begins.

The crowd is electric, pulsing like one living thing as I feed off their energy.

Each song fuels the fire in my veins, the music lifting me higher, the cheers wrapping around me like a lover’s embrace.

My band is in sync, each member locked into their groove—Dizzy pounding out powerful rhythms, Isla’s bass thrumming like a heartbeat, Jay weaving in bright piano notes, and Lola and Katie’s harmonies soaring through the air.

And then there was her.

Laney.

She is in the VIP section, singing along, her face glowing with joy. The way she moves to the music, her hair catching the stage lights, the pure excitement in her eyes—it makes me feel untouchable, like a king ruling his kingdom.

I step toward the mic, my breathing still heavy from the last song. “Y’all have been incredible tonight,” I say, adjusting my cowboy hat. The crowd roars back.

I glance toward Laney, and something inside me clicks into place. “This next one’s special,” I continue, my voice softer now. “I wanna dedicate it to a little songbird with the voice of an angel—someone I was lucky enough to hear sing in a park one night.”

A hush falls over the stadium, the anticipation thick.

I meet Laney’s eyes, and in that moment, it’s just us.

The first chords of ‘Midnight Dune’ ring out, and I pour every ounce of emotion into the song. As I sing, Laney mouths the words back to me, her lips moving in perfect sync with mine. The world blurs away, the thousands of screaming fans fading into nothing.

For these few minutes, there is no stage, no distance between us—just the music and the unspoken connection threading between us.

And damn if I wasn’t already lost in it.

I finish the song and drag my gaze back to the thousands of fans as I say my goodnight and thank them all.

I head off stage as they chant my name and grab a swig of water with the band, as we take a breath before heading back onstage for the encore.

Tonight has been one of the best nights on stage and everyone is buzzing.

When we finally finish our last, last song, I glance at Laney, hoping she can read what I can’t say in words. I’ll find her backstage. Her small nod confirms my unspoken question, and I grin before waving at the fans and walking off stage and heading into the chaos behind.

Backstage is a mess of bodies, voices, and flashing cameras, all clamoring for my attention.

Famous faces, journalists, fans—everyone wants a piece of me, a handshake, a quote, a goddamn moment of my time.

The air is thick with sweat, liquor, and the unmistakable scent of too many people in too small a space. It’s suffocating.

I don’t want to be here.

I grin and sign autographs from excited fans, posing for photos and fulfilling my obligations. I usually love this part but tonight it feels too much.

The adrenaline from the show is already wearing off, leaving me feeling drained and irritated.

My patience for small talk is at zero, but they keep coming.

Endless hands, endless fake smiles, people acting like they know me.

I nod, grunt, and fake a smile when required.

My skin crawls with the weight of their attention.

None of it matters. Not this noise, not these people. At least not right now.

I move through the crowded room trying to make my way towards the door where I know Laney will enter, unless she already has and I missed her somehow. Someone thrusts a drink into my hand and I nod, trying to look grateful.

It’s been an hour since the show ended and there is no sign of the group thinning out as the party gets started.

Younger fans have been shown out and it leaves party girls and hangers-on who just want to fuck someone famous. I’ve already spotted Dizzy doing a line off a blonde’s tits. I turn away, not interested in any of it.

All I want is to find Laney.

I spot her entering the room with her friend, her head turning as she scans the room, looking for me. Our eyes meet, and she gives me the brightest smile I’ve ever seen, causing my chest to feel tight.

Fuck, what is it about this woman that makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her? It’s like the world stops and I know that I’ll do anything to have this woman in my life.

A recorder is thrust in my face as a journalist throws questions at me, and I break eye contact to focus on the woman in front of me so I can get rid of her. Twenty minutes later, I glare at my manager who finally gets the hint and pulls the woman away.

Scanning the room, I look where I last saw Laney, my gaze feeling more desperate when I don’t spot her.

She was right beside her friend a few minutes ago, but now I don’t see her. I don’t see her friend, either. That uneasy feeling slithers through my gut, slow and insidious.

“Eddie! Eddie, man, that set was insane! How does it feel to—”

“Yeah, great, thanks,” I mutter, shaking off another eager hand on my arm. I can barely hear them over the static buzzing in my ears.

Then I see it, across the room near the door.

A new guy, a roadie I don’t recognize, has his hands on Laney.

My stomach drops.

She’s pulling away from him, turning her face, but he’s leaning in, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, dragging her toward the exit.

“Laney!” My voice barely carries over the noise. She looks around, eyes wide, searching for me, but the asshole yanks her through the door before I can shove through the crowd.

I snap. “Move!” I bark, shoving past people, not giving a fuck who I offend. “Get out of my way!”

I don’t care who I knock over. People yell my name, but I don’t stop. My heart is slamming in my chest as I push through the door and into the dimly lit hallway.

I feel frantic, a hungry desperation nipping at my heels, tension coiling in every muscle. It’s dark in the hallway and I frown as I let my eyes adjust.

Then I hear a cry and I know in my soul it’s her. I race down the long hallway toward the sound. My only thought is that I need to get to her. I’m not a world-famous star in this moment, I’m every bit the predator that was trained by the Cosa Nostra.

I am death.

I am vengeance.

The switch is flipped.

I see her and the killer inside me roars.

Laney is slumped against the wall, her body barely holding itself up. The bastard is pawing at her, his filthy hands on her ripped shirt, his mouth on her neck.

Something inside me snaps so violently I think I might black out. Never in my life have I felt such cold icy rage.

I don’t hesitate.

I just move.

With a roar, I grab the roadie by the back of his shirt and hurl him off her. He stumbles back, eyes wide with shock.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl, my voice shaking with rage.

His face goes pale as he sees the violence in my stare.

“She—she wanted—”

My fist collides with his face before he can finish that sentence. The crunch of bone is drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. He stumbles, blood spraying from his nose, but I don’t let up.

I punch him again. Harder. His head snaps back against the wall, and he crumples to the floor.

I want to pound him until he takes his last breath, but I know Laney needs me more than my rage needs an outlet. I suck in a breath and wrangle it to a simmer so I can tend to her. This piece of shit can wait.

I drop to my knees beside Laney, my hands cupping her face. Her pupils are blown wide, her breaths uneven, her clothes torn.

“Laney, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you.” My voice breaks.

She blinks slowly, her body sagging against me.

“Jesus,” I choke out. I run a trembling hand down her arm, checking for injuries. Her skin is cold, too cold.

“Security!” I roar, my voice hoarse with fury. Two of my men run down the corridor, their eyes wide as they take in the scene. I’ll deal with their negligence later but, for now, I need to focus on my woman.

“Get this piece of shit out of here! I want him taken to the trailer. Lock him in. I’ll deal with him myself.”

The clatter of boots echoes down the hallway as my security team rushes in.

They hesitate. They know what I mean. They know what’s coming.

“I said lock him in. Nobody touches him but me,” I snarl. My blood is boiling, my fists still twitching. I want to see the fear in his eyes when he realizes I’m going to make him pay for what he did to her.

I scoop Laney into my arms, holding her gently against my chest. She’s too light. Too still.

“Find me a doctor!” I shout, my voice raw. “NOW!”

I carry her back to my dressing room, kicking the door shut behind me. My hands shake as I lower her onto the couch. Her breathing is shallow, her eyelids fluttering.

“Laney, stay with me, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing her hair from her damp forehead. “Help is coming, okay? You’re safe now.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and my chest aches like someone took a knife to it.

I press my lips to her temple. “I swear to God, baby, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

She whispers my name, and it’s the only sound in the world that matters.

I hold her close, willing her to stay with me.

And for the first time in my life, I pray.

As soon as she’s safe, I’m going to that trailer.