Chapter 34 Micah
Micah
A few days of absolute bliss follow Kellan grabbing what little he actually owned from his apartment and all but moving into my house.
Everything at the apartment belonged to the label—the furniture, the kitchen equipment, the expensive electronics mounted on the walls.
His personal belongings fit into three boxes and two suitcases.
Years of his life reduced to what could fit in my truck bed.
Kellan keeps calling himself homeless, dramatically throwing himself on my couch and declaring that his hero Micah has saved him from living on the streets. The first time he does it, I laugh so hard my healing ribs ache. By the third time, I just throw a pillow at him and tell him to shut up.
"I'm a charity case," Kellan insists, catching the pillow. "A poor, destitute musician who gave up everything for love. You should probably start a GoFundMe for me."
"You literally got a check for six figures last week," I point out. "You're the opposite of destitute."
"Details." He grins at me, that real genuine smile that's been appearing more frequently. "Let me be dramatic."
Even Jamie comes over to hang out, drawn by Kellan's infectious good mood.
The three of us spend an evening on my back porch, drinking beer and telling stupid stories.
Jamie and Kellan bond over their shared love of terrible action movies, arguing about which franchise has the most improbable explosions.
The happiness in Kellan is something I haven't seen before, not even in our best moments at his apartment.
He's lighter somehow, unburdened by the weight of Tom's expectations and the label's control.
I even got my cast off and now wear a brace that's infinitely more comfortable and functional.
The doctor says I'm healing well but I still won't be cleared to work for at least another month or two.
My arm is weak from disuse, the muscles atrophied from weeks of immobility.
Physical therapy is painful and frustrating, but at least I can use my hand again for basic tasks.
Now I'm sitting on the couch drinking coffee and scrolling through my phone, enjoying the lazy morning. Kellan pads into the living room holding the newspaper my neighbor still delivers, despite my repeated attempts to cancel the subscription.
"Hey, so this was one of the guys that hurt you, right?" Kellan's voice is uncertain as he holds out the paper. "He was missing, apparently. Just saw his picture and thought I recognized him from that day."
I pull the newspaper toward me, my stomach dropping.
The headline reads "Local Alpha Reported Missing" with a photo of Colt underneath.
I realize suddenly why I haven't had to deal with either Derek or Colt for the past few days.
No encounters at the grocery store, no threatening visits to my house, no menacing presence in town.
I start reading the article, my coffee forgotten on the side table. "Huh, they made a mistake." I point at a line in the text. "Says here Colt's an Omega, not an Alpha. That's definitely wrong."
I keep reading, my confusion growing with each paragraph. The article mentions something about a serial killer called Hex, describing Colt as a victim found in a neighboring county. "Holy shit, he was murdered? What the absolute fuck?"
"Murders happen in your town?" Kellan leans over my shoulder to read the article himself.
"This was a few towns over, apparently." I scan the text again, trying to make sense of it.
"Don't ask me what they were doing there.
But wait, it says it multiple times that he's an Omega.
Colt can't be an Omega. He smelled like an Alpha.
Strong Alpha scent, aggressive and intimidating. There's no way I was wrong about that."
"Could he have been using a scent changer?" Kellan suggests. "Or maybe that was just his natural scent and he was actually an Omega the whole time?"
The possibility sits strangely in my mind.
I'd been so certain Colt was an Alpha, that both of them were Alphas.
The aggressive behavior, the physical intimidation, the way they carried themselves.
But if he was actually an Omega, if he'd been masking his scent this whole time, that changes everything.
Why would an Omega pretend to be an Alpha? What purpose would that serve?
I'm sitting with that information, trying to process the implications, when I hear a noise outside. Not the normal sounds of my neighborhood, but multiple car doors slamming and voices raised in greeting. I look up concerned, setting the newspaper aside.
Kellan goes to look out the window and his eyebrows shoot up. "What the fuck?"
Before I can ask, my front door bursts open and his bandmates come strolling in like they own the place. Rex, Jordan, and Liam pile into my living room, their expressions a mix of determination and anxiety.
I stand quickly, my hand instinctively going to my phone in case this is bad news. "What's going on? Did something happen?"
"We were going to wait until Monday or so to put out an official statement," Jordan starts, his words tumbling out fast. "Give ourselves time to coordinate with lawyers and PR people who aren't Tom.
But he just called to say that he's suing us for breach of contract.
You know he's going to set up a press conference before we can, spin the narrative his way and make us look like the bad guys. "
"I tried to get back in the building to grab some equipment and they wouldn't give me access anymore," Liam adds. "Had to get someone I know who still works there to smuggle out my guitar. If we don't control the story now, Tom will destroy us before we can recover."
"So we're doing this now," Rex finishes. "Right now. No more waiting."
"Doing what now?" I look between them and Kellan, trying to follow the conversation.
Kellan smiles softly at me, moving to stand beside me. "I guess we're telling the world the truth. About Tom's manipulation, about the fake relationship that became real, about why we're leaving the label. That Lunar Ransom is changing directions and doing things on our own terms."
He pauses, realization crossing his face. "Fuck, we're going to have to find a new name. The label probably owns the trademark or has some legal claim to it."
"What?" I'm still catching up, my mind reeling from this sudden invasion.
Rex looks at me with concern. "Did we interrupt something? You look stressed."
"Not really." I gesture vaguely at the newspaper. "I just found out that one of the guys who assaulted me is actually an Omega, not an Alpha like I thought. And he got murdered by this guy named Hex? I don't even know who that is or why this is happening."
"The serial killer?" Liam's eyes light up with inappropriate interest. "Hex? Holy shit, he got one of the guys who hurt you?"
"What the fuck are you going on about?" I stare at him like he's grown a second head.
"He's some weird unknown face serial killer," Liam explains, his tone taking on that enthusiastic quality people get when discussing their favorite topics.
"Nobody knows what he looks like because he never leaves witnesses.
Some people think it's an organization rather than one person.
The victims are always people with criminal records, but not like major criminals.
More like people who got away with things the justice system couldn't prove. "
"He's a crime junkie," Jordan says, fondness mixed with exasperation. "He's weird. Has a whole podcast subscription and everything."
"Okay." I try to process this information along with everything else. "So do you need anything from me? For this statement or whatever you're doing?"
"No, we're just going to send out a video message about what's going on," Liam assures me. "Explain our side before Tom can poison the well. Then we'll be out of your hair and let you get back to your morning."
Kellan turns to look at his bandmates, his expression serious. "I'm still pissed at all three of you, you know that, right? What happened before, the way you let Tom divide us, that's not just going to disappear because we're on the same side now."
"We have a lot to make up for," Jordan acknowledges quietly. "We know that. We're not expecting instant forgiveness."
"Rex gets to play the fucking drums for a while," Kellan declares. "Since he's been complaining about my attitude for months, he can experience how hard it is to keep rhythm for you assholes."
Rex groans. "Yeah, no, that's fair. I deserve that."
"And no more love songs," Liam adds, looking at Jordan. "Babe, I love you, but those lyrics are too good. They make me feel things and we're supposed to be angry rock musicians."
"I'll keep them to the notebook," Jordan promises, grinning. "Private love songs just for you."
The easy banter between them reminds me of what Kellan described from their early days. Four friends who genuinely enjoyed each other's company, before Tom's manipulation created distance and resentment. Maybe they can get back to that, given time and effort.
"Fuck, how do you want to process this?" Kellan looks at me, checking in despite the urgency. "You okay with us filming here? We can go somewhere else if you need privacy."
"Go ahead." I wave toward the living room. "I'll be in the kitchen. I’ll still be here when you're done."
I grab my coffee and retreat to give them space, though I can hear everything from where I lean against the counter. They set up someone's phone on a tripod, arranging themselves on my couch in a casual configuration that still looks intentional.
Jordan starts the live stream and immediately comments flood in, the viewer count climbing rapidly. Thousands of people tuning in to see what Lunar Ransom has to say.
"Thanks for joining us," Jordan begins, his voice steady despite the stakes. "We're here to talk about some changes happening with the band and to address some rumors before they get out of control."
"We've left our label," Kellan says bluntly. "All four of us, simultaneously. It was a decision we made together after realizing we couldn't continue under current management."
Liam takes over, explaining Tom's control and manipulation without getting too specific.
The way their creative direction was overridden, their personal lives managed like publicity assets, their autonomy stripped away piece by piece until they were just products being sold rather than artists creating.
Rex talks about the love album they were being forced to make, songs that didn't reflect who they actually were. How the label wanted to capitalize on their relationships and package their private lives for consumption.
Then Kellan addresses the elephant in the room. "My relationship with Micah started as a publicity stunt. That's the truth. Our manager conned Micah into signing a contract he thought was an NDA, then used it to force us into a fake relationship for promotional purposes."
He pauses, his expression softening. "But somewhere along the way, it stopped being fake.
I fell in love with him for real. And when management tried to force us to stage a breakup on their timeline, we refused.
I chose Micah over the contract, over the label, over everything they were offering.
And I'd make that choice again in a heartbeat. "
The comments explode with reactions. Support, shock, anger at Tom's manipulation, excitement that the relationship is real. The viewer count keeps climbing as people share the stream, spreading it across platforms.
Tom starts calling. First Jordan's phone, then Liam's, then Rex's, then Kellan's.
They let them all ring out, the persistent buzzing becoming background noise to their continued explanation.
Tom's fury is palpable even without answering, the sheer volume of calls indicating how desperate he is to shut this down.
For the first time since I came into Kellan's life, I'm seeing the four of them genuinely smile together.
Not the practiced smiles for cameras or the forced cheerfulness at promotional events.
Real smiles, the kind that reach their eyes and transform their faces.
They're unified in a way I've only heard about in Kellan's nostalgic stories, present and supportive of each other without the weight of Tom's manipulation crushing them.
When the stream ends after about thirty minutes of questions and explanations, they all sit back with visible relief. The hardest part is over. The truth is out, in their words, before Tom can twist it into something else.
Kellan sighs and looks at his bandmates. "Great. Now go home. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, please."
They laugh, patting him on the back as they gather their things. Jordan stops at the door, turning back. "Seriously though, thank you. For letting us invade your home and use it for our dramatic revelations."
"Anytime," I say, and mean it. "Though maybe warn me next time so I can put on pants that don't have holes in them."
They leave in a chorus of goodbyes and promises to keep in touch about the legal situation. When the door closes, the sudden quiet is deafening.
"That's it?" I ask, moving back to the living room. "You just tell the truth and now everything's fine?"
Kellan shakes his head, pulling me down onto the couch beside him.
"No, it's going to be a bit of a legal battle.
Tom will sue, the label will push back, there'll be months of lawyers and depositions and bullshit.
Fans will be split between supporting us and staying loyal to Tom's version of events.
But we'll come out okay on the other end.
We have the truth on our side and contracts that protect us. "
He cups my face, his expression concerned. "What about you? How are you dealing with the Colt thing? Finding out he was murdered?"
"I'm shocked," I admit. "But I think I'm okay? Like, I'm not celebrating his death or anything. But I'm also not sad about it. He hurt me badly and was threatening to do it again. I'll be happier when Derek isn't a problem either. I really need him gone, need to feel safe in my own town again."
"I can't promise anything," Kellan says softly. "But I'll be happier when he isn't a problem either. So it really can be you and me against the world, without looking over our shoulders constantly."
"My Alpha forever and all that," I tease, echoing his social media post from days ago.
Kellan snorts. "Yeah, something like that."