Chapter 36
36
LOGAN
L ogan?
Katrina stares at me through the glass. I look back, and my heart skips a beat. She rests her palm against the window and smiles, her little voice traveling through the barrier to reach me.
Logan?
No.
Not this again.
“Go away,” I say.
“Uh, what was that, Logan?” Jonny Red asks, his voice teetering on the edge of nervous amusement.
I blink, forcing myself to look away from Katrina’s perfect eyes, only to find myself beneath Knox’s unyielding glare in the radio station booth.
This memory again.
Except it’s not a memory, is it? It’s some twisted vision my brain keeps imprinting over it. My first true look at Katrina Benton. The first time I felt the breath leave my lungs, my throat go tight, and—yeah—my blood rush straight south.
Why is she there every time I close my eyes?
I can’t escape her. Even now she looks at me through the glass in that same calm way, the same loving eyes. Even after I broke her heart. After I confirmed every fear she ever had about me.
I’m the enemy.
Always have been.
Katrina taps the glass. What should be a gentle thud feels more like a pounding. It jolts me awake, though I hadn’t been sleeping so much as drifting somewhere between guilt and exhaustion. No rest to be found there, anyway.
I open my eyes to the all-too-familiar ceiling of my Botsford Plaza suite. My guitar rests nearby, untouched. A stack of blank yellow sticky notes sits beside it, equally useless. No need to practice for a competition the rival band isn’t even showing up for.
We win by default.
Yay.
The door shakes again. Louder this time.
My girls are persistent. I’ll give them that much.
I roll off the couch. “Tesla, I told you—” I start, dragging myself to the door. “I don’t want?—”
I open the door and stop.
Not Tesla.
Not Goldie.
It’s Knox Benton in the hall. His leather jacket hangs off his sunken frame as he glares at me. His face hardens for a flash before it softens again.
“Is she here?” he asks.
“She who?”
“Don’t screw around, man. Is my sister here or not?”
“No,” I answer.
Unconvinced, he cranes his neck to look past me. “Katrina!”
I step back, leaving the door open wide. “She’s not here. But go ahead and search the place if it’ll make you feel better.”
I flop back onto the couch.
Knox steps inside, the door closing behind him. He moves through the suite like a man on a mission—checks the empty bed, the bathroom, the corners. Idiot even drops to his knees to look under the bed.
“Satisfied?” I ask.
Knox pushes off the floor and exhales. “Not really, no.”
“Well, whatever’s up your ass today, I can’t help you. So if you don’t mind…”
I gesture toward the door, eyes closing again, ready to disappear into the nothingness.
I listen to him move. One step, then two. Not toward the door. Toward me.
I startle as he drops onto the couch beside me with a solid thud.
“What are you doing, Knox?”
“At the moment, nothing,” he says. “In a minute, I’m gonna ask you a very important question, and then I’ll figure out what to do after that.”
“If it involves hitting me or causing physical discomfort of some kind, let me save you the trouble. Feeling pretty rock bottom already today.”
“Why? My band’s in shambles. I can’t even look at my best friend. My sister is missing. Without her, the others won’t go on, so The Battle of the Bands is basically yours. You got everything you wanted, didn’t you?”
“Is that your important question?”
“No, but answer it anyway.”
“No,” I say, looking at him. “I didn’t get everything I wanted. What do you mean Katrina’s missing?”
“Pretty self-explanatory, ain’t it? She’s not at home. Not at the hotel. Not with her friends, not here with you. She’s not answering calls or texts. She’s missing . Are you in love with her?”
The question hits like a slap. But it’s the rising panic beneath it that really sinks in.
Katrina’s missing?
“Logan.” Knox turns toward me. His eyes don’t flinch. “Are you in love with my sister?”
“Is that your important question?”
“No. Still working up to that.”
“Why do you care?” I ask. “It’s not like you’d ever approve.”
He doesn’t answer. Just sits there, staring, waiting for something real .
Words should come easy. I’m a songwriter, an artist. But these don’t.
These words feel like the hardest I’ve ever had to say.
“I’ve loved Katrina Benton since the moment I laid eyes on her.”
Knox’s eye twitches before he looks away. I see the gears grinding, slow and messy, as he tries to make sense of the last twenty-four hours. Maybe even the last three months.
“Don’t bother trying to make sense of it,” I say. “None of it matters, anyway.”
He chuckles.
I glance over, puzzled. “What?”
“Nothing, just…” He shakes his head. “I used to say the same thing about Kat. Don’t try to make sense of her. She’s got her own way of doing things. Her own way of seeing the world.” He looks at me, and something in his face softens. “Logan, I don’t know how much my sister told you about us. About where we came from.”
“She mentioned things,” I say. “Enough to piss me off.”
“Good.” He nods. “That’s how you’re supposed to react. Someone you care about tells you they grew up in a commune, getting holy water dumped on them after their father put out cigarettes on their back, you get mad.”
My stomach turns. “They did that to her?”
“No. That was me.” He exhales. “Her, it was more psychological. Emotional torment. See, they didn’t want to damage the goods, not before they could gift her to some family friend. That exchange was scheduled for about three days after we got her out, by the way. Hence the urgency in that.”
I clench my jaw.
“Anyway, the point is… Anger. Hatred. Distrust. That’s what sticks with you after that kind of life. It forever taints the world around you. At least it did for me.” He shakes his head. “But not Katrina. Despite everything she and I went through, she still sees good in people. She’s bright. Hopeful. Annoyingly optimistic. All summer long—even while you were popping our tires and spying on us—she kept saying maybe it’s not what it looks like. Maybe… The Electrics aren’t so bad.”
He gives me a sharp, sideways look.
“So tell me, Logan,” he says, “what does my sister see in you I don’t?” He stares at me while I stay silent. “That’s the important question, by the way. Took a while to get there, but I’m feeling my feelings right now, so just go with it.”
“I don’t know,” I answer, honest.
He glares.
“I don’t know, Knox,” I repeat. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. Everything I’ve done was for my band. To give those girls a better life without…” I stop. That part isn’t his business. “I care about Katrina. But I had to choose.”
“Choose?”
“If someone put a gun to your head and told you you could be with Harmony, but being with her meant sending Katrina back to that hellhole you came from, who would you choose? Your girl or your sister?” I ask, staring hard at him. “Let’s call that my important question.”
Knox snorts. “Easy. I’d choose both.”
“You can’t have both.”
“Sure I can. I’m Knox fucking Benton. I don’t compromise. I’d fight like hell for both of them and I wouldn’t stop until they were safe and happy.”
I rise off the couch. “Well, I’m glad Katrina has you, then. I’m not so bold.”
“Boldness has nothing to do with it,” Knox says, settling in like he owns the place. “But I’ll bite. Who did you choose over my sister?”
I swallow. “It’s not important.”
“Sure as shit was important enough yesterday.”
“Yeah, well. It’s over now. Doesn’t matter why I did what I did. I still did it.”
“Was it Monroe?”
I freeze.
Knox smiles. “Man, you’ve really got to work on that poker face if you’re gonna hang out in Vegas.” He leans forward, smug. “You know, after what we did to him, I figured he’d come for payback eventually. Thought he’d come to me, though.”
“Guess I was just lucky.”
“What’s the guy have on you?”
“He doesn’t—” I hesitate, his eyes hard and insistent. “Not me. Tesla.”
“That the blue-haired one?” he asks.
“Yes.” I sigh. “The blue-haired one.”
“What’d she do?”
I stare at Knox. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he says. “But Katrina did. She believed you deserved the benefit of the doubt. And since she’s not here to annoy me into helping, I figure I’d just save the trouble and do it, anyway.”
“Help?” I ask. “What could you even?—”
My phone vibrates against the coffee table. Once, twice. Then again.
“Look, Knox,” I say, reaching for it. “Not to sound rude or anything?—”
“Shocker,” he mutters.
“But this is a private?—”
I stop cold, blood turning to ice as I read the new texts.
Priscilla
WHAT
THE
FUCK
The last message is a link to Gossipa , but I don’t need to open it. The headline in the preview is enough to feel the floor drop out beneath me.
GLAM, GLITTER, AND… GRAND THEFT AUTO? THE ELECTRICS’ TESLA KYLE’S CRIMINAL PAST EXPOSED!
“No,” I breathe.
He leaked it.
I did everything Monroe asked, and he fucking leaked it anyway.
“What’s up?” Knox asks.
I turn away, his voice nothing but background static compared to the roaring panic inside my skull.
Tesla. I need to get to Tesla. I need to fix this—but how the hell do I fix this?
“I have to go,” I say, already bolting for the door.
I tear into the hallway, heart thundering in my chest all the way to Tesla’s suite.
“Tesla!” I shout as I pound on the door. “Are you there? Goldie! Open the door!”
It swings open on Goldie. Her hair’s wet and messy from a shower, the ends still dripping onto the sleeves of her shirt.
“Hey, Logan,” she says, her eyes red and swollen.
Over her shoulder, I see Tesla sitting on the edge of the bed. Her blue hair’s pinned back. Her posture’s straight. Her expression’s blank, but steady. Resigned.
“Monroe leaked the story,” I blurt out, panic pinching my chest like a vise. “We have to go.”
Tesla stands up. “Logan?—”
“Pack a bag,” I tell them, already crossing the room toward the stacked suitcases by the window. “Bring only what you need. We’ve gotta travel light.”
“Logan.”
“I don’t know where we’ll go,” I say, answering the question forming in my head. “Somewhere off the grid, just until I figure out our next move?—”
“Logan, wait.”
I slam my fist into a pillow, rage bursting to the surface. “I can’t believe he did it,” I growl. “I did everything he asked and he still ? —”
“No. Logan.” Her voice cuts clean through my fury. “Monroe didn’t leak the story.”
I freeze, breathing hard, hands trembling.
“I did,” she says.
My world tilts. Emotions hit like a freight train—confusion, betrayal, heartbreak.
“It’s okay, Logan,” Tesla says softly. “This is for the best.”
“For the best?” I round the bed, eyes locked on her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“This wasn’t fair to you,” she says. “We both know he wouldn’t stop. Monroe would’ve kept using you. Holding it over our heads. You’d never be free of him. But now? He’s got nothing.” She smiles. “Now, you and Katrina can be together.”
“Tesla.” Her name scrapes past my throat. “That’s why you did this?”
“You two deserve happiness. You deserve each other.”
“No.” My heart slams against the walls of my chest. “You shouldn’t have?—”
“It was my secret to tell, Logan. It’s done,” she says, hard and defiant.
“No, there’s... there has to be something else we can do! Something that’ll?—”
My words die as Tesla wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug that feels like both a goodbye and an apology.
“This isn’t right,” I whisper into her shoulder.
“Depends on who you ask.” Her voice is quiet. Calm. “But it’ll be okay. You’ve sacrificed so much for us. Let me do this for you.”
I hold her tighter. “After everything you’ve worked for...”
“It’ll still be there when I get out,” she says, too light for the weight of what she means. “In... twenty-five-to-life.”
“You’re not going to jail, blue,” Goldie cuts in, standing near the door.
With Knox.
I finally notice him leaning against the wall, watching.
I don’t bother turning away. What’s the point? He’s heard enough. The rest he can read on Gossipa .
“Congratulations, Knox,” I mutter. “Looks like you win after all.”
Knox scrunches his face. “What?”
“Yeah, what? ” Goldie echoes.
Even Tesla frowns at me.
“The Battle’s off,” I say, firm. “We’re not doing anything until we figure this out.”
Knox scoffs. “Oh, fuck that.”
He pulls out his phone, thumbs flying, then presses it to his ear.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m taking you down legit or not at all,” he says, his expression tight until someone picks up, and his whole face changes. “Hey, Stella! It’s Knox. No, I didn’t get arrested again. No, Jonah didn’t, either.” His grin falters. “No. Will you shut up and listen for a second? I’ve got a new client for you.”
“Knox.” I step closer. “What are you doing?”
He holds up a finger to quiet me. “Uh-huh. You coming to the Battle of the Bands tonight? Why the hell not? Well, change your plans. This is important.” He looks over at Tesla, gives her a steady nod. “Great. We’ll see you tonight. Who’s the client?” He grins. “Check out Gossipa .”
He hangs up, then slips the phone into his back pocket.
“She’ll take care of it,” he says.
“Take care of it?” Tesla repeats, full of doubt.
He nods nonchalantly. “Yeah.”
“She’s going to take care of grand larceny, illegal street racing, and destruction of personal property?”
“That’s what you did?!” Knox blurts, his eyebrows sky-high.
Tesla winces. “Yeah.”
He stares at her silently. Then, his expression shifts—from stunned to... genuinely impressed. “Well, maybe not all of it right away. But she’ll know where to start.”
“Wait,” Goldie says, blinking. “Was that the Stella Walsh?”
“Uh-huh,” Knox replies.
She lets out a laugh. “You just told Stella Walsh to shut up and listen?”
Knox smirks. “She likes it. Trust me.”
The girls let out soft, shaky breaths of relief. It’s not over, but there’s a path forward now. Potentially.
But I shake my head, my gut still wrapped in unease. “Why did you do that?” I ask him.
Knox looks at me like the answer’s obvious. “It’s what my sister would do.”
“How is Katrina?” Tesla asks.
My heart stutters. “She’s missing.”
“ Missing? ”
“No,” Knox says quickly, waving a hand like it’s no big deal. “She’s not missing. I know where she is.”
“You do?” Goldie asks.
“Where?” I ask, needing to know.
Knox shrugs, stepping toward the door. “Same place my sister always goes to mope.”
He opens it, takes one step into the hall, then glances back.
At me.
“You coming or what?” he asks.