Chapter Forty-Three
Maddox
Music pounds through the speakers behind me, all bass and hard techno, the dim lights and ambiance mirroring how I feel.
Moody as hell. Reign’s crew secured a roped-off VIP area for tonight, with expensive bottles on ice waiting for us.
The kind of thing where all this is comped because of his name.
Reign laughs with someone from his backing band, a drink in one hand, his boot propped on the edge of the glass table, still pumping with adrenaline from tonight’s show. Beau sits next to me, half-watching the room, half-scrolling on his phone.
And I’m…not really here.
My eyes keep finding Paige, and it’s been this way the entire journey from Vegas to Phoenix, and during our set tonight. Ten seconds, that’s all I last once I’ve dragged my gaze away before it lands back on her again. It’s pathetic, the way I’m watching her, knowing I hurt her.
I told myself I was doing the right thing, protecting the band, the dream. But the way she’s purposefully ignoring me feels like a punishment, and I deserve every second of it.
I’m the reason her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she stands at the bar with Eli and some guy I don’t recognize. He’s tall and standing too close, leaning in when he talks. Eli says something, and the guy laughs, Paige joining in a beat too late, like she has to remind herself to react.
My gaze slides over her, noticing the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she holds her barely touched drink with both hands. Eli’s clocked it too; I can see when he looks at her, eyebrows pinched, eyes flicking back to me now and then.
“You still mad at me?” Beau asks.
I blink, forcing my attention to him. “What?”
“I asked if we were good and you ignored me.”
“Obviously, we’re good.” It comes out flatter than I mean.
“You sure?” He nods to my drink. “You’ve been sitting on that for the past hour.”
I shrug, lifting the lukewarm beer to my lips, trying not to grimace as the stale taste floods my mouth. Beau fiddles with his phone before tucking it away.
“You know she’s not down there trying to punish you, right?”
My eyes lock on the objectively handsome guy still hitting on her, and I can’t stand the way he’s leering like he actually stands a chance. I don’t respond, trying to untangle whether this ache in my chest is guilt, jealousy or both.
Then why’d you leave her a fucking note instead of talking to her?
Eli leans in, says something to Paige, hand on the small of her back. She nods, barely, and he starts toward us, slipping past the bouncer and into the VIP section.
“She’s trying,” he says as he drops down next to me. “You can tell, y’know? Like, she’s trying to pretend everything’s fine, but you can just tell it’s…not.”
Fuck.
It was never supposed to be like this.
I slump deeper into the couch, twisting the bottle in my hands. Beau drains his beer, leans across me, and slaps Eli’s knee.
“Come on. Let’s grab the next round.”
Eli nods. “Let’s give her a break from that guy, too, yeah?”
They disappear, and I let my head fall back, eyes shut, my mood only getting worse. The music from the club thunders in my ears, churning the agitation and annoyance in my veins with each passing minute.
I need to leave, my social battery depleting the longer I let myself stew, when the cushions shift beside me, and I crack one eye open, sitting up when I realize it’s Reign.
“You good, Knox?” he asks, tipping his glass toward me. The dark and expensive liquid sloshes up the sides, the large square ice cube clinking gently.
I nod, tight-lipped. “Yeah. All good.”
“Right,” he drawls, unconvinced. “That look on your face doesn’t have anything to do with the cute little redhead being chatted up by the sexy lumberjack-looking dude next to her?”
I scowl, my lip curling up as I’m immediately drawn back to Paige. Reign laughs and sips his drink. “Relax, dude. Paige isn’t exactly…my type.”
“Tour’s going well,” I say, changing the subject, sounding rude and dull even to myself.
“Good’s an understatement. The tour has fucking rocked.
” He smiles. “I love busy, but weeks like this? Never take that downtime for granted.” He nudges me with his elbow.
“Seriously, Knox, one more show until our two-week break, so use it wisely, ’cause the second half of this leg? It’s gonna kill.”
I huff a laugh, draining the last warm sip of my beer. “Can’t argue there.”
“Honestly, no shade to anyone else, but your band’s been one of the best I’ve toured with.” Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his expression sobers slightly.
My pulse kicks up a notch. Is this it? Is he about to ask us to stay on and do Europe? But before he can say anything, Eli crashes back into the VIP area, pale, breathless, eyes wide.
“Maddox,” he pants. “Shit, we need you.”
I’m up in a heartbeat, Reign doing the same. “What happened?”
“Paige. She…” He steps back, voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”
My eyes dart to where she was standing, the space now empty, and my world narrows. Worry and panic try to seize my lungs as I follow Eli down a dim corridor, my boots pounding against the hardwood, each boom like a countdown. I’ve never moved this fast and still felt like I’m losing time.
Shadows gather around three figures up ahead, and I recognize two instantly. Beau’s struggling under Paige’s weight, trying to keep her upright. But she’s limp, head rolling against his shoulder, arms hanging dead.
My breath catches, and I bolt.
“What the fuck happened?” I shout, scanning every inch of her body.
Beau’s voice shakes. “She was fine. I turned to pay for the drinks and—”
I spin. The guy from the bar—the fucking lumberjack—is hovering nearby, hands up, something flashing in his eyes that makes my skin crawl.
“I didn’t do anything, man. She came on to me—”
I don’t remember lunging, or the first crunch of my fist slamming into his face. Rage explodes, coloring the edge of my vision red, one hand coiled tight in his shirt, the other hammering blow after blow, shoving him against the wall.
“Enough!”
I’m yanked back, arms pinned by someone twice my size, the Scottish accent thick and sharp as steel. Lockie, Reign’s bodyguard, shoves me aside with his iron grip, teeth bared as he thrusts a finger at me.
“Touch him again and you’re the one ending up in cuffs,” he growls. “Not this asshole.”
“Look at her,” I yell, throwing my hand in Paige’s direction. “He’s done something to her.”
Lockie’s face hardens before he turns, snuffing out the distance between him and the creep in two steps, yanking on the lapel of his jacket and searching through his inside pocket.
“Hey, what are you—”
Holding up a small plastic bag, I lunge for the guy again as soon as I see the small white pills between Lockie’s fingers. But Reign’s bodyguard is quicker, smacking his other hand hard against my solar plexus, stealing the air in my lungs.
“Someone hold him,” he growls, glaring at my bandmates behind me. “You”—he glares at an onlooker at the end of the hallway—“call security.” He’s calm authority now, alert and locked into bodyguard mode. “No one touches this piece of shit until the cops get here. Am I understood?”
He turns to Reign, voice lower, gentler. “Cooper, back to the VIP section. Let me handle this.”
“No fucking way,” Reign snaps, lip curling. “Not when she’s one of ours.”
Lockie huffs, nods once, and pushes Reign behind him, guarding his flank.
“Eli, grab a couple of my guys. Now. Beau, keep her upright. Don’t let her fall asleep.”
“I’ve got her,” Beau murmurs, cradling her like she’s fragile. “I’m not letting go.”
Paige’s head lolls to the other side, her lashes fluttering.
I crouch beside her, bleeding knuckles forgotten, brushing damp hair from her face.
She’s warm, but not warm enough. Breathing, but not steady.
And all I can think is that I should’ve been there, watching her back, never letting her out of my sight.
“Hey,” I whisper. “C’mon, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me.”
For a second, they do. A flicker of blue barely visible. My thumb grazes her cheek, trying to keep it together while around us, chaos descends; Lockie barking orders, Reign on the phone, Eli rushing back with Lockie’s guys. The asshole who drugged her is still whining about some “misunderstanding.”
None of it matters. Only she does.
Reign appears beside me, hand settling on my shoulder.
“Let’s get her to the hotel, Knox. Take my suite. The tour doc’ll meet you there.”
He pulls out his phone, lifting it to his ear, but I barely move.
“I should stay,” I murmur, glancing at Beau. “I should make sure he–”
“No.” His voice is firm. “You go. We’ll handle him and the cops.”
I nod, feeling shaky from the inside out. My hands can’t stop touching her. Her face, her neck, her arm. I need to feel her warmth, to know she’s still here.
“Maddox.” Beau’s gaze meets mine. It’s the first time in hours that he sounds like my brother, my friend. “Just get her somewhere safe.”
I scoop her into my arms, tucking her against my chest, and follow Reign out the side exit without looking back. This isn’t the kind of moment you come back from. This is the kind that rewires you. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.