10
Phoenix
The week off was worse than I cared to admit.
In the end, all I could do was retreat into my hotel room and cry until the tears ran dry.
The emptiness was suffocating, and no matter how hard I tried to talk myself out of it, my emotions felt like they were drowning me.
I made sure to still virtually attend AA meetings, though I hated every second of the sessions.
I had stayed in touch with Wren, who kept sending encouraging words when I needed them the most.
But I couldn’t escape it.
Not for long.
It wasn’t just the tears and the loneliness that gnawed at me.
No, the real kicker had been the warning letter I received from my boss.
After Zephyr’s little threat, I had been expecting it—another strike, another reason to hate myself—but it still hit harder than I was prepared for.
It wasn’t a surprise, but it stung all the same. Complaints had been made about my behavior on tour. Complaints about how I was “conducting myself”
around the band, as if I was the one creating problems.
As if their treatment of me didn’t factor in.
In the end, though, Zephyr hadn’t managed to get me kicked off the tour.
Although Trent had said if I wanted any future at the firm, I would need to finish off the tour and prove I could handle myself.
I still should have quit, though.
Hell, I should’ve walked away the moment I realized I was destined for a bunch of assholes.
But instead, I must have been a masochist because here I was, returning to the very same people who had treated me like shit.
Tonight we started the second leg of the tour, and I needed to get ready for the show.
The nerves gnawed at me as I looked at my reflection, the face staring back at me, unsure and raw.
After a week off, I was dreading facing the guys again.
The thought of stepping back into their world, where everything was uncertain and tangled up in emotions I wasn’t ready to confront, made my stomach twist.
I didn’t know what to expect when I walked back onto that bus, back into their lives.
I didn’t know if I could keep pretending everything was okay when it was far from it.
My fingers brushed over the zipper of my bag, and for a moment, I let my mind wander.
I thought about the guys, the band, and what they meant to me.
Despite everything, there was a part of me that cared—deeply.
But that part, the part that was trying to push me to feel something beyond the cold distance I kept between us, was dangerous.
It was a part I was trying to smother. The problem was, the more I fought it, the stronger it seemed to grow.
I should have stayed away.
But I wasn’t that strong, not yet.
I had spent weeks pretending I could move on, convincing myself that nothing good could come from fostering these feelings.
But every time I pictured myself with someone—anyone, even for just a random hookup—the only people who came to mind were them.
My mates. The ones who had set my heart spinning and made me feel like a fool every time they treated me like nothing.
I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to pull away from the one thing my soul longed for, even in its own messed-up way.
I had never felt more torn in my life.
Quickly getting ready to head to the stadium where this leg was set to start, I grabbed my phone, bag, and suitcase and headed downstairs to meet my driver.
The drive over didn’t give me any time to prepare myself for seeing the guys again, and before I knew it, we were waved through the gates and pulling up in front of the main tour bus.
A small group had gathered around the bus entrance, and I immediately caught sight of the guys’ supporting band, Corruption, covered in bright ink and jumping around with excited energy.
This was what I had come to love about touring: the excitement, the raw energy, and the communal love and respect for music.
Shifting my gaze from the hottest upcoming band in rock, I locked eyes with Parker.
He was in conversation with the boys from Corruption and Zephyr.
He held my gaze as I thanked my driver and headed toward them.
I gave them a slight nod of acknowledgment before hauling myself into the security of the bus. Maybe I was a coward, but after a week of no contact, I suddenly felt unprepared to speak to them just yet.
After unpacking my suitcase and slipping into the storage seat, I heard the bus door open and close.
I turned slowly, my gaze fixed on the floor, and was met by three sets of boots.
“Doll, you’re back,”
Parker said as I raised my gaze to his.
“Good to see you, Princess,”
Kage grumbled before sliding past me to open the bar fridge and passing beers to the others. “Want one?”
He gestured to me.
I shook my head in answer before asking, “Are you all ready for tonight?”
I started to open my laptop and begin working.
“Ah, come on, Phoenix.”
Parker slipped into the seat beside me. “You haven’t seen us in a week, and you want to jump straight into work?”
“Are you really surprised?”
Zephyr scoffed before adding, “As long as we’ve stayed clean and out of trouble, then Miss Perfect here doesn’t care what our week looked like.”
He looked at me with judgment in his eyes before heading down the bus toward his bunk.
It wasn’t like I was expecting a warm reunion after a week off, especially after they tried to fire me, so I tried not to let his words and disgusted look bother me. It was harder than I expected. Before thinking, I blurted out, “It’s not like that. I just have to update the firm.”
Parker stood up and started to move away while looking down at me. “Don’t worry, Phoenix,”
he said. “We know we’re just a job.”
Kage left the kitchen area as Parker did, leaving me alone once again. At first, I felt a flicker of guilt, but that quickly turned into anger. Fuck them. They were the ones who made me feel small from the start. They were the ones who decided I was the enemy, and they were the ones who refused to see anything beyond my role here.
They never made an effort to get to know me, to understand the person behind the job title. Maybe I had been too good at hiding behind the mask I wore, too skilled at keeping my true self locked away. Or maybe they never bothered to look past the surface.
I had to admit it—maybe those moments when I thought they saw me, really saw me, were just wishful thinking. Maybe I had been fooling myself all along, imagining that I mattered to them, even in some small, insignificant way. The truth was, to them, I meant nothing.
◆◆◆
I dried my hands on the soft towel, the fabric a small comfort against my skin. The bathroom was the only place I could escape the constant tension on the bus, even if just for a few minutes. Out there, it felt like walking on broken glass—every glance, every word, sharp and cutting. But in here, the dull hum of the extractor fan muffled the world outside.
I lingered longer than I needed to, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked tired, duller than they used to be. Even my hair had lost its usual shine, hanging limp and lifeless. Omegas weren’t meant to deny their natures, and they certainly weren’t supposed to reject their scent matches. It was finally catching up to me. I almost looked… sick.
Sighing, I tossed the towel aside and steeled myself before stepping out. Their voices hit me as soon as I cracked the door.
“She’s a fucking disaster,”
Kage said, his tone dripping with disdain. “I can’t believe the label is still letting her stick around. Her firm should’ve fired her when I sent those photos.”
I froze, barely breathing, the door still ajar.
Zephyr’s voice followed, less venomous but no less cutting. “Yeah, well… she’s better than the last one.”
There was a pause, and I could almost picture the shrug in his voice. “At least she doesn’t screw up the work. Not bad at keeping us out of the tabloids, I guess.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Kage snapped. “You’ve seen the way she hovers, always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Like she’s trying to—”
I didn’t need to hear the rest. My blood boiled, and my heart thudded painfully against my ribs. Pushing the door open fully, I stepped out, my footsteps deliberately loud as I walked into the living area.
Both of them turned to look at me. Kage leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his sharp green eyes narrowing at my sudden appearance. Zephyr was slouched on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.
Zephyr was the first to recover. His blue eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite place—surprise, maybe, or regret—but it vanished quickly, replaced by the familiar wall of indifference. He smirked, lifting his beer slightly in a mock toast. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Eavesdropping now, are we?”
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but thanks for the glowing review. Really, it’s nice to know how much I’m appreciated around here.”
Kage snorted, looking me up and down like I was something he’d scrape off his shoe. “Appreciated? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Zephyr’s smirk deepened, but there was something off about it, like he was trying too hard. “Don’t take it to mean anything, Priss. It’s just… surprising that you’re still here.”
“Surprising?”
I repeated, my voice rising. “You mean despite the constant shit you throw my way? Or the fact that you’ve made it your mission to get me fired?”
“Watch your tone,”
Kage warned, his voice low and dangerous.
“No, I’m done watching my tone,”
I snapped, turning my glare on him. “I’ve bent over backward trying to do my job, and all I get in return is hostility. If you’ve got a problem with me, why don’t you just say it to my face instead of whispering about me behind my back like cowards?”
Kage’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought he was going to stand up and get in my face. But Zephyr’s voice cut through the tension, lazy and cool.
“Easy there, Phoenix. Don’t hurt yourself trying to play the victim.”
“Victim? Is that what you think this is? You think I’m just imagining how you treat me?”
Zephyr’s smirk faltered, just for a split second, before he covered it up with a sip of his beer. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression hardening. “You want to be here? Fine. But don’t expect us to roll out the red carpet. You’re just another cog in the machine. Do your job, stay out of our way, and maybe you’ll survive the rest of the tour.”
“Maybe I don’t want to survive the tour,”
I shot back. “Maybe I’m done dealing with your crap.”
The silence that followed was heavy, the air crackling with unspoken words. Kage stared at me like he was daring me to keep going, but Zephyr… there was something different in his gaze. Something that almost looked like regret before it vanished entirely.
I turned on my heel and walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.
I hated them. Hated the way they looked at me, the way they dismissed me like I was nothing. But as I stomped back to my bunk, I couldn’t shake the memory of Zephyr’s words.
“Better than the last one, anyway.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. And as much as I hated to admit it, that small acknowledgment made my chest ache in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.