Devil’s Beat (Devil’s Halo Rockstar Romance #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Mikey

This Is The Beginning

Ely Eira

I can’t believe it’s the last show of the tour.

We’ve played fifty shows in a hundred days.

One hundred days and nights of buses, hotels, sound checks, and sleep grabbed in whatever scraps we could find.

And it all comes down to tonight. Chicago.

Home. The place where everything started before Devil’s Halo became something bigger than any of us ever imagined.

I roll my shoulders, stretching out the stiffness that’s settled deep into muscle and bone.

Tape is already wrapped around my fingers, snug and familiar.

A new set of sticks rest on the bench beside me.

There’s a low, constant hum vibrating through the concrete beneath my feet.

The sound of over fifty thousand people waiting in their seats out there in Soldier Field.

Everyone’s here for it. Mom and Dad. Hayden and Dean’s parents.

Marie, Lily’s mom, is hovering close to her granddaughter, Larkin, who’s already past her bedtime but grinning like the lights alone are magic.

She’s got a pair of sound cancelling pink headphones strapped over her little ears.

It’s surreal, seeing all of them gathered backstage like this, woven into the fabric of our world for one night.

A reminder that no matter how far we’ve come, some things remain rooted in where we come from.

It should feel incredible. And it does. Mostly.

I’ve gotten used to Sadie, Dean’s girl, (camera always in hand), but with her comes Quinn.

Her younger sister flew in this morning, and the knowledge of her presence has been crawling under my skin ever since.

I haven’t even seen her yet, but I know she’s here.

It’s like my body clocked it the second she stepped into the building.

Subtle shift. Slight edge. Nothing I can point to, but enough to notice. Annoying, honestly.

I can sit behind a kit in front of fifty thousand people without blinking, but one girl walks into the same zip code and suddenly I’m aware.

Which is honestly kind of rude. Maybe if she didn’t look at me like she finds me comical.

Or maybe she’s just curious. Or both. I don’t know and I hate that I don’t. Women are never an issue for me.

Whatever. I take a swig of the tequila bottle that’s never far from my side. I roll my neck, tap my sticks together once, twice, harder than necessary. She’s not my problem right now. I’ve got a show to play.

This tour has been brutal in the best and worst ways.

We played fifty shows in a hundred days.

A hundred days of living inside the music, inside the chaos.

And ending it here, thirty minutes from where we grew up, feels right.

But after tonight, the road goes quiet. No more shows.

No more crowds. Just eight months in the studio, tearing songs apart and stitching them back together again.

I tell myself the restlessness under my skin is about that. Not her. Definitely not the fact that a few weeks ago in New York, she shut me down without hesitation. Clean, direct, no confusion. And then proceeded to flirt with me like she hadn’t. Which, yeah, still makes no sense.

I stand and head deeper into the backstage maze, nodding at crew members as I pass. The smell of cables and warm electronics mix with the faint bite of sweat and cologne. It’s familiar and comforting. This world makes sense to me in a way very few things do.

Luc is near the entrance to the stage, shoulders loose, jaw set in that calm-before-the-storm way he gets before a show.

Devil’s Halo’s front man. My older brother.

The heart out front while I keep the beat in the back.

Lily, the love of his life, is beside him, her hand resting easily at his lower back, their daughter cradled against her shoulder.

Larkin’s tiny fingers curl into Lily’s shirt as she peers around with wide eyes, oblivious to the history humming beneath this place.

They look solid. Happy. Like something they fought for and won.

Two years apart. A car accident. Amnesia that wiped Luc from Lily’s memory completely.

Most people would’ve walked away. He didn’t.

And somehow, they found their way back to each other this summer, stronger than before. Love that was lost, but now found.

Marie, Lily’s mom, stands close by, her gaze soft as she watches them, the quiet pride of a mother who knows how much it took to get here. My chest tightens, not with envy exactly, but awareness. Proof that real things can survive impossible odds.

Dean paces nearby, guitar already strapped on, fingers moving absently over the strings.

Focused and intense. He used to keep everyone at arm’s length.

He used to believe love was a distraction.

Now Sadie hovers at his side, camera hanging from her neck, documenting everything without intruding.

She grounds him in a way no one else ever could.

The transformation still catches me off guard sometimes; the way his shoulders soften when she smiles at him, like he’s finally stopped bracing for impact.

Two bandmates. Two new relationships. Hayden and I the last single men standing.

For now anyway, because that’s when I see her.

Quinn is standing next to Sadie, her head tipped back in laughter, dark hair pulled into a messy knot that somehow still looks intentional.

She’s relaxed and comfortable. Like she belongs backstage just as much as anyone else here.

And technically, she does. But she doesn’t act like she’s impressed by any of it. That’s what gets me.

My gaze sticks longer than it should. She hasn’t noticed yet, focused on something on Sadie’s camera screen. There’s a lightness to her. Unbothered. Untouched by the pressure humming through this place. Then she looks up.

Our eyes lock, and just like that, everything narrows. Her mouth curves into a half-smile, and it’s all-knowing. Like she’s clocked every thought I didn’t say out loud. She doesn’t look at me like I’m on stage. She looks at me like a man she understands.

Sadie spots me and waves me over like she’s summoning a stray. “Mikey! Can you believe this?” Her face beams as she gestures vaguely at everything. “Last show. Chicago. Your home town! It feels surreal.”

“Surreal is one word for it,” I grin as I step closer. “Terrifying is another. I’m pretty sure my body thinks we’re about to be chased by bears.”

Sadie laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I work hard at it.”

Quinn’s gaze slides to me then, slow and deliberate, like she’s assessing a menu she has no intention of ordering from. “Big night,” she offers. “Must be strange knowing it’s the last one for a while.”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I usually cope with major life transitions by pretending they’re not happening.” I lift the bottle in my hand before taking a slug. “And of course, with this.”

Her mouth curves, just entertained enough to stay dangerous. “That explains a lot.”

I blink. “You say that like you’ve known me longer than five minutes.”

“I’m observant,” she shrugs. “It’s my specialty.”

“Dangerous skill.”

“Only if you give me something to work with.”

There it is. I grin, because not grinning would be a mistake. “And have I?”

Her eyes flick over me; quick, assessing, not subtle in the slightest. “You’re still talking.”

I bark out a laugh before I can stop it. “Wow. Brutal much?”

She shrugs again, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth now, which I guess makes it a little better.

“Does it work?” She motions with her chin toward the bottle. “The pretending.”

“Sometimes.” Just to make a point, I take a drink, then fire back at her. “What’s your method?”

“Feeling things.” It’s blunt and lands as intended.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that tonight.”

That earns me a real smile. It’s quick, sharp and gone too fast, but I note it.

Hayden drifts in beside us then, bass slung low, calm like the world never rattles him. He gives me a nod. The universal you good check-in.

“Barely,” I grumble as I glance back at Quinn.

His mouth twitches. “Figures.”

Down the hall, someone shouts the call. Five minutes.

Everything fractures into motion. Sadie kisses Dean.

Lily hugs Luc. Quinn steps back, already disengaging like she’s accomplished exactly what she wanted.

She glances over her shoulder at me once, flashing me a smirk. “Try not to overthink it, drummer.”

I snort. “It’s adorable that you think I would.”

That half-smile again, and then she’s gone.

And just like that, the space feels different.

I retreat to my corner, needing the space.

This is my ritual. One last breath. One last count before I blow out a breath and then jog onto the stage and up to my kit.

I settle onto my throne, in-ears snug, sticks warm in my hands.

I close my eyes and let my breathing slow, syncing with the rhythm that’s lived in my chest for as long as I can remember.

Drumming has always been my way of controlling the noise.

It’s how I keep everything from emotion, doubt, and fear locked behind tempo and timing.

As long as I keep the beat, everything else stays where it belongs.

Except, yeah, not sure she’s buying that.

The lights drop and the roar hits like a wave, crashing through the walls and straight into my bones. Luc walks up to the mic through the thunderous applause, his voice slicing through the darkness as he shouts into the mic. “How you doing, Chicago?”

I count us in. The downbeat lands, solid and powerful, and my body takes over. Bass drum. Snare. Hi-hat. Precision. Muscle memory. The crowd moves as one, riding the pulse I set. This, this is easy. And I can’t believe I won’t feel it for another year.

Sweat slicks my skin. Cymbals crash. The bass vibrates through the riser beneath my feet, through my spine, through my heart. We’re locked in, perfectly synchronized, the sound of our band, Devil’s Halo, filling every corner of the arena.

I steal a glance toward the wings. I don’t see her. But I feel her. Somewhere out there, Quinn is listening. Like every beat matters a little more than it should.

On stage? I never miss a beat.

Off it? She’s already knocked me completely out of rhythm.