Fourteen
Kat
Ace of Spades – Motorhead
My body has been set alight, my muscles taut and focused.
The cheers and screams from the crowd echo in the small room, fueling the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
This is the fullest I’ve ever seen the small bar.
From what I can see through the blinding stage lights, there’s barely a foot of space anywhere in the room.
I can see the first row of the crowd clearly. They don’t break eye contact with us. They’re enthralled with the music we’re playing. If this is the energy coming from a couple hundred people in a bar, what would it be like to play for thousands? I shiver at the thought.
Fuck, pay attention.
As my solo approaches, my heart flutters in my chest, the familiar cold sweat in my palms returning. I’ve played this solo countless times, but it never gets less daunting. When the guitar solo hits, every eye in the room is on me, and I can’t fuck up. And hundreds of eyes will notice if I do.
I take a deep breath, fingers poised over the strings, and begin the solo I’ve played hundreds of times before.
My body absorbs each note, and I become the music.
I’m vaguely aware of cheers coming from the crowd.
Hair flies in all directions as bodies smash into each other in the mosh pit that’s suddenly opened up in front of the stage.
A drink gets thrown in the air, liquid glistening in the stage lights before raining down over raised hands.
The energy tonight is like nothing we’ve played to before. We’ve always been the warm-up act, playing to people paying to see another band. Or people who just happened to be at the same venue at the same time that we were playing. But this crowd? It feels like they’re here for us.
For a second, I lock eyes with a girl pressed against the front of the stage, mascara smudged under her eyes either from sweat or thrown liquor. Her mouth opens as she screams the lyrics back to us. The passion on her face almost makes my fingers falter on the strings.
This is insane.
As my final note rings out, I hold my guitar up by the neck, drinking in the returning screams: a rush of adrenaline that makes my knees tremble.
The song fades away; the only sounds are my heartbeat in my ears and my ragged breath.
Harper thanks the crowd and gives them a wave as we make a hasty retreat from the stage.
The lights dim, plunging the stage into darkness again as the house speakers play Ace of Spades.
“Can you fucking believe how much better we’ve gotten since our first show?” Ryland says, voice thick with excitement as we enter the dressing room.
“Did you see the guy at the front? Headbanging for the entire set. No fucking stopping!” I reply breathlessly, placing my guitar in its case and zipping it up.
“The crowd was so intense,” Harper says, checking her phone and tapping out a quick message.
“Imagine doing this… but in front of thousands of people?” I ask, giving a voice to my earlier thoughts on stage.
Luca breaks out into a big smile. “To have thousands of people knowing our names and screaming for us? Now that would be amazing.”
His words echo in my mind. Thousands of people knowing our names. Dread curls its way up my spine, causing a shiver. That kind of fame doesn’t come with the luxury of anonymity. It comes with cameras, public appearances, and strangers who think they know you.
My stomach tightens. I’ve spent so long trying not to be found, and now I’m standing on the edge of a stage daring the world to look at me.
My brain screams at me to back out. To run as far away as possible.
But my heart whispers to me to stay, even just for a little while longer.
And I’ve always listened to my heart—even when it’s been wrong.
I’ll find you anywhere, princess.
I shake my head, tossing the voice from my brain. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end regardless. He’s gone. And if I have any luck left in this fucking world, he’s gone forever.
“I’ve gotta go, Jared is waiting for me,” Luca says, slinging his bass bag over his shoulder and bringing me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta go too. I’ve got work in the morning,” Ryland says.
We pull in for a tight group hug before heading our separate ways.
“I’m going to Nathan’s after this,” Harper says, wringing her hands. “But we can share a cab?”
“Harper, stop,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to call an Uber, go pee, and then go home. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.” I take her hands in mine and give her a pleading look.
She searches my face for a moment before letting out a long breath. “Fine,” she sighs. “But text me when you get into the Uber, when the Uber drops you off, when you get into your apartment, and before you go to sleep, okay?”
“Yes, Mom.” I salute before kissing her on the cheek. Usually, I would put up more of a fight, but after I bared everything to her the other day, I can’t blame her for being protective. I’m just not used to it.
After a pause in the doorway, she gives me a last look and leaves. Suddenly I’m alone again. I sigh, tucking my songbook into the pocket of my guitar case. I really need to pee.
The sound from the bar travels down the narrow hallway.
Glasses clinking, the raucous buzz of voices mixed with the faint music from the house speakers.
It’s so loud tonight, they must have really enjoyed our set.
I close the door behind me and make my way to the bathroom.
I don’t make it more than five steps before I feel a hand grabbing my arm.
My back hits the wall of a small alcove just off the hallway.
“Hey, baby,” Kirk breathes into my face, body pressed firmly against mine. The stench of alcohol clogs my nostrils.
I try to suppress the gag, but it comes out anyway as I attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, but he’s too strong.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he slurs, tilting my jaw up to face him.
The repulsion that trembles its way through my body is visceral. He has a trail of some type of dried liquid at the side of his mouth, and his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat. Of course, he needed to drug me; no woman would ever let this foul creature inside them willingly.
“Go away, Kirk,” I plead, still desperately trying to break free from his grasp, which only makes him tighten his hold. I try to brace my hands on his chest to push him away, but they’re held tight against my sides. He may look gaunt, but fuck, he’s strong.
“C’mon, baby, I want to finish what we started,” he breathes, his left hand sliding down my waist. The lazy grin on his face makes me know exactly where that hand is headed.
Panic claws up my spine. He wouldn’t do it here… would he? There’s too many people.
“Get the fuck off me,” I spit at him, finally able to bring my hands up to his chest and push him back. He stumbles with the force, but rights himself quickly. His face turns impossibly red, and his nostrils flare.
I feel my heart beating in my ears. I try to run, but my legs won’t cooperate.
My chest tightens, and silent tears begin to fall as he moves towards me.
I need to run. I need to fight. I need to do something.
Despite the war raging in my head, I stay rooted to the spot.
Even as one hand wraps around my neck and the other fumbles with the button on my jeans.
I suck in a breath and close my eyes. I let my limbs fall loose as I drift far, far away.
I’m in the field; the only sound I can hear is the water from the lake. I hold onto that thought, keeping my eyes closed as the feel of his touch fades away.
“Kat?” A voice startles me from my safe place.
My heart thumps in my chest as I gasp for air.
“Kat, are you okay? Look at me.”
Hands shake me and force my eyes open. Elias’s face is inches from mine, worry etched across his features.
I clutch my chest as I try to suck in ragged breath after ragged breath. It’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Why can’t I breathe?
“You’re having a panic attack,” he says as he turns behind him. That’s when I notice Kirk lying on the floor, red liquid staining his face. His eyes roll into the back of his head as someone stands over him.
“Take him downstairs,” Elias says, although I’m only vaguely aware. My breath comes heavy and fast. My vision blurs at the edges, and my eyes fall shut.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, and the floor disappears from under my feet. The movement makes me suck in the non-existent air, making my lungs burn. I feel a warm wall of muscle against my side as strong hands grip my waist and legs. The shock almost restarts my breathing rhythm. Almost.
I’m faintly aware of a door being pushed open and immediately closed before I’m gently placed on something soft. Elias lowers himself to the floor and kneels in front of me.
“Breathe, Kat. You’re in my office. You’re safe now,” he tells me. The deep timbre of his voice rumbles through my body. But I barely register his words—aside from one.
Safe.
The word feels foreign. My lungs don’t cooperate with my brain.
Each inhale feels like I’m dragging air through a straw.
My fingers tingle with the impending numbness.
My vision pulses in and out as if someone’s flicking a switch behind my eyes.
My heart rattles my chest like it’s trying to push through my ribs. It feels impossibly tight.
“I can’t—” I rasp, my fingers clawing at my chest. “I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can,” he says, his voice steady and unwavering. “You’re breathing now. Let’s just control it.”
His hands hover near me, but he doesn’t touch, as though he’s calculating the exact amount of contact I can handle.
“In for four,” he says. “With me.”
He gives a slow, exaggerated, deep inhale. I try to match him, but my breathing hitches halfway through as a sob wracks my body.
“Again,” he says quickly, keeping me on track.