Page 199 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Definitely not the last.” A grin breaks free for the first time in an hour, and I sigh. “Okay, well, I have to make sure my band is still alive,” I mutter, wrinkling my nose at the prospect of entering the tension-filled band house. My imagination has run wild all morning since I dropped Asher off in the driveway.Will I find blood stains? More bruises? A repaired band? Yeah, that last one isn’t possible right now. I’ll have to give them more time and way more therapy to work through the betrayal that happened. Good thing it starts this week. Even I haven’t forgiven any of them yet.

“Afraid they’ll tear each other apart after Asher’s confession?” Olivia asks, raising a brow in my direction.

After our enormous discussion last night, Olivia was the first person I called when I snuggled into bed. Talking to the guys about everything that happened opened ancient wounds, bringing more tears to my eyes. If it weren’t for her, or the other three I call my best friends, I would have cried myself to sleep. Instead, I chatted with her, Ode, then Kaycee, while texting Rocco and snuggled with Lyric after tossing and turning.

“Want me to pound his face in, Little West? I could use an extra punching bag.” What I would call a sadistic grin lights up his face at the prospect of beating Asher up.

“Jesus. Calm down, Killer. His ass whooping yesterday was punishment enough,” I say, standing from my chair. “Now, I have to figure out how to get them past this. If they ever want to become a band again.”

I shake my head, wracking my damn brain on how I can help them move on from Asher’s deceit. Not that it’s going to happen easily. Hell, the only reason I didn’t kick him to the curb was for Lyric. She’s attached to each of them uniquely, and I can’t break that bond or her little heart.

Carter deflates and mutters under his breath, finding his way back to his seat. With a grunt, he sits back down and rubs his chin. “Don’t be a stranger. If you need a boy band to disappear without alerting the feds, I’m your guy.”

Olivia scoffs, throwing a pen in his direction. “We are the feds, you asshole.”

“Exactly. We won’t be alerted,” he quips, chuckling when she throws another pen at him.

“All right. Thanks, guys, for the help. If I get anything else, I’ll let you know.” Waving goodbye, I stroll out of Veritas’ headquarters, making my way across town, hopefully walking into a band practice with little to no blood.

“Where’s River?”Kieran asks with accusation, side-eyeing Asher.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch with fascination as Asher heaves his guitar strap over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the pain radiating from the wounds I caused him yesterday when we finally found out the truth of our situation.

Violence never used to be the answer to all my frustrations—music was. My bass was my relief. A way to step out of this world, dive straight into the music, to forget I’m a human walking this earth. Forgetting all the pain life has brought me at every damn step. When I lose myself in the music, I’m no longer Callum Rose—airplane crash survivor. I’m simply the bass player, strumming along to the beat of our creations—a no one with nothing stirring inside me but a constant heartbeat.

When I witnessed Van kissing River and what I thought was her reciprocating, I lost that special piece of me to the noise of the world. I let it take me over, becoming a no one without an escape. Every note and string reminded me of her. My River.My Little Star. Her smile. Her laugh. The ghost of my past constantly followed me, threatening to jump out at every corner. Much like my parents, she was dead to me. She may have had a heartbeat pumping blood through her veins, but she was as good as gone.

To push her existence out of my mind, I injected poison into my veins, falling victim to its intoxicating addiction. Once again, I found something to lose myself in for hours at a time, floating above the noisy world. It fogged my mind, subduing my wayward emotions threatening to spill out of me. With every hit I took, the more the edge seemed to loom in the distance, getting closer and closer until the drugs didn’t do it for me anymore. I felt more, no matter the amount I took. It was either take more and fuck myself up badly or find something new to take my pain away.

Stumbling across the cage boss, Ruthless, in that empty alleyway outside some random bar was the best mistake I ever made.

“Yo, you’re going to fuck up your fists if you keep trying to break the brick,” the random voice rings in my ears as I grunt, pummeling my flesh into the scratchy brick, breaking my skin. Blood pours from my wounds, leaving my mark behind on the unforgiving surface. “I said fucking stop,” he growls, pulling my fists away from the wall and forcing my back against it. “You wanna fight, Killer? You want to pound into something that will give back as good as you give?”

“Let me the fuck go,” I snarl, trying to yank my wrists back.

His grip tightens until I’m stuck between his broad body and the brick behind my back. A large, raised scar runs the distance of the left side of his face, from his forehead, down his eye and cheek, and finally stops before his collarbone.

“Get yourself together. You want to make some money, Killer? Prove to the world you aren’t some junky rock starlooking for his next damn fix? Hmm?” He raises a brow, pushing off me when my body slumps against the wall.

“You don’t know me,” I grunt, pulling my shoulders back and squaring my chest. “You don’t?—”

“Callum Rose. Whispered Words. Rock star extraordinaire,” he snorts. “You almost fell off the fucking stage last night in front of thousands. Yeah, I know exactly who you are.” He rolls his dark eyes, pulling a cigarette pack from his back pocket. “Listen, I could use a real fighter like you in my octagon. Not only would your pretty boy face bring in a crowd, but by the looks of your punches, you need the damn release. Are you interested?” Fire illuminates his face as the end of his cigarette blossoms red, and smoke pours from between his lips.

“Sounds tempting.” Staring down at the wounds coating my knuckles, I swallow hard. All I wanted was another fix to try and take away the pain rotting my fucking insides and poisoning me day by day. But nothing is working like it should right now.

“Yeah, how’s your fucking head right now after beating that wall?” My muscles tense at his question, but it’s then I realize…

“I don’t feel a single thing,” I mumble in awe, breathing fresh oxygen for the first time in months instead of drowning in my own damn sorrow and darkness.

“Yeah. Here’s the deal. You ditch the fucking drugs, and then you come to me. I’ll set you up with as many damn fights as long as you’re healthy. You’ll bring more people to the show, and my place will bring you relief.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask when he hands me a card with an address close to the edge of town on the bluffs.

“They call me Ruthless,” he says with a shrug, taking a step back. “See, now we know each other. Come to that address when you’re feeling frisky. You scratch my back, and I’llscratch yours.” The mystery man marches down the alley and disappears into the darkness, leaving me with a spark of hope.

Fighting became my damn religion, blackening everything and dulling my pain. Pounding flesh became my drug of choice. Spilling blood became my addiction, relieving all the pain festering in the depths of my soul, rotting me from the inside out. For thirty minutes at a time, I was no one—a blank space, circling opponents with one mission in mind—causing pain.

The daily cravings grew less for drugs, going completely extinct without trying. Soon, my mouth watered for the opportunity to jump into the octagon. In a sick way, it knocked her memories away and blanked out my damn mind from the useless noise around me. After pummeling Asher’s face, I went to the ring and took on two more opponents, winning each round within five minutes until I wore myself out. Absentmindedly, I rub along the bruise forming under my right eye, reveling in the slight tinge of pain.