Chapter Twenty-Six #2
I jerk my head to the side, shoving him off with every ounce of disgust I can channel. He laughs and strolls off casually, fully aware I can’t touch him. His bandmates release me one by one, following in his wake as they head toward the stage.
I exhale, hard, straightening my shirt as I watch them disappear down the corridor. My blood is boiling, my fists aching from being clenched so tight.
But I made a promise.
To Effa.
And right now, it’s the only thing keeping me from chasing him down and tearing him apart limb from limb.
***
After our little run-in backstage, there’s no way in hell I’m dragging myself back up to the rafters just to sit through Swift Division’s set.
I don’t care that it’s technically part of the job.
After that bullshit with Jett, the last thing I need is forty-five minutes of his screeching vocals clawing through my eardrums while the crowd treats him like some kind of rock god.
Fuck that.
Instead, I hang back near the lighting board, helping the guys coordinate pre-programmed transitions. It’s not my normal post, but it gives me a reason to stay grounded, and more importantly, gives me a perfect line of sight to Effa.
From here, I see her and the rest of the girls getting ready to go on.
Just watching her move, watching how focused she gets before she hits the stage, it settles me.
Grounds me. She’s all motion and magnetism, that quiet kind of chaos that keeps my world spinning.
My woman doesn’t even know how powerful she is.
Just seeing her? Yeah. That’s enough to take the edge off.
Finally, finally, Swift Division finishes their set.
The lights fade on those smug pricks while Jett and his crew slink offstage, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Thank Christ that’s over. At least I won’t have to stomach that shit again until tomorrow.
With Luminous getting into position, I know I need to be where I belong, up high, back in my post. I head to the beam and begin the climb, each rung of the ladder burning off a little more of the frustration still coiled tight in my chest.
Once I haul myself over the edge, Tank turns to me with a grin, lifting a brow. “That was one hell of a log you had to drop, man.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Didn’t make it that far. Got roped into helping the lighting guys.”
“You missed all the good shit,” he mutters, handing me the remote as I slip between him and Jay.
I settle in, my legs dangling like before, muscles tensing with anticipation. From up here, the crowd looks even bigger. The place is packed to the rafters, buzzing like a live wire. The energy is thick, electric, and about to blow.
“Everything went okay while I was gone?” I ask, scanning the rigging out of habit.
Jay nods. “Flawless. Actually, we work better without your ass dragging us down.”
“Appreciate the love,” I deadpan, as cues crackle through our earpieces.
The girls are ready.
I nod toward Tank, who taps the sequence button to begin the pre-programmed intro. The lighting shifts, plunging the arena into darkness.
A split-second pause.
Then—
Boom.
The crowd detonates with a roar so loud it rattles through my chest. Stomping feet, wild cheers, an eruption of pure anticipation. I glance down at the side of the stage and catch a glimpse of Effa and the girls, lined up, ready to make their entrance.
Game time.
I press the remote, syncing it to the track that’s already building beneath the noise. Neon pulses flicker through the darkness, strobes slicing the black as the rotating platform spins into place, locking in perfect alignment.
The stage is set.
All they have to do now is run out and own it.
And they do.
Like clockwork.
Like lightning.
Kristy appears first, revealed behind the drum kit as the massive front screen drops. She slams into the intro beat, her arms a blur of motion, and the crowd loses their collective minds. The energy jumps another level with more stomping, more screaming, and that’s just the beginning.
Then come Andi and Casey, shredding out onto the stage, guitars blazing, bodies moving in sync with the building rhythm. Alana rushes to her DJ station, layering her beats with flawless timing.
They’re a wall of sound and raw power.
And then…
Effa.
She bursts onto the stage like a goddamn supernova.
Her blonde hair whips behind her like silk caught in the wind, her guitar slung low over her body, thigh-high boots stomping confidently across the platform.
She raises one hand high in the air as she sprints to the mic, claiming the space as though it’s already hers.
“Pittsburgh! You guys are amazing,” she yells, voice echoing across the crowd, full of that husky vibrance that’s hers alone. “We’re Luminous, and we’re gonna illuminate your world. So hold on tight, ’cause here we goooo!”
Right on cue, the band launches into their opening track, the first verse punching through the speakers like thunder. I swear, my chest could fucking burst with how proud I am of her.
Her voice? Liquid grit and soul.
Her stage presence? Dominant as hell.
She was born to do this.
Born to own this space.
And from where I’m sitting, no one shines brighter than my girl.
Effa isn’t just in the spotlight.
She is the spotlight.
EFFA
The high after a show never gets old. No matter how many times I step out onto that stage, the buzz is always real. That mix of adrenaline, endorphins, and pure energy hits different every single time. I live for it.
But right now?
All I want is to get back to Mercs. Just the two of us alone somewhere quiet, where the only rhythm I feel is the beat of his heart against mine.
As we walk the winding hallways toward the green room, I down the last of my berry water, the flavor tart and sweet against my tongue.
Raoul stays close beside me like always—ever the guardian.
I shoot him a grateful smile while Alana chats with Luke, probably about how the live stream played out.
Andi’s expression has softened since earlier, the thrill of the show taking the edge off her mood, while Casey lingers behind us, sniffing the air dramatically like she’s a damn bloodhound.
I raise an eyebrow. “Smelling something again, Case?”
Casey nods like she’s found the Holy Grail. “Yup, popcorn. And vanilla. And maybe weed? Either way, I want a party.”
“And a man,” Andi adds with a smirk.
Casey grins. “Hell yes. Can we go straight to the club tonight, Luke?”
Luke sighs, clearly over it. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know… shower first? Unwind?”
“No,” Casey snaps. “I want booze, I want blow, and I want some big-ass balls!” She gestures dramatically, both hands cupping the air like she’s wrangling an invisible set. It earns a round of laughter from the girls.
Luke, predictably, looks like he’s swallowed a lemon, and he groans. “Fine. Go get changed, and I’ll organize the car.”
“I’m gonna go find Mercs,” I announce, glancing between Luke and Raoul. “Tell him to come with us?”
Luke waves me off mid-conversation. “Yeah, sure. Raoul, stick with her.”
As they round the corner toward the green room, Raoul and I continue toward the crew room. His arm wraps loosely around my shoulder.
“Great show tonight, mon petit oiseau,” he says warmly.
I flash him a grin. “We’re kind of a big deal.”
He chuckles as we reach the crew room, and I peer inside, spotting Mercs sitting in a chair with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. His posture is rigid, and the room is eerily quiet except for his low voice, which immediately triggers a ripple of anxiety through me.
Something’s wrong.
I take a step forward, but I don’t want to interrupt. There’s a heaviness hanging in the air, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t walked in here.
Then I hear it.
“Lilah, I don’t know what to say to that.”
Lilah? That name hits me like a punch to the ribs.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
My eyes sting as a cold rush floods through my chest.
His ex? Why is he talking to her?
“I know you’re sorry. I get that, I do,” he says. “You know you meant everything to me, Lilah. We were childhood sweethearts, and that’s a big deal. Love was never an issue with us.”
I stumble, grabbing onto Raoul for balance. His hand steadies me as my knees start to weaken.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I can’t deny my feelings. Love isn’t the issue. It has to work this time.”
Each word slices through me.
Crushing.
Brutal.
My stomach knots and twists, and the floor beneath me feels like it’s giving way. A sharp gasp escapes before I can stop it, and I turn, bolting out the door with Raoul immediately behind me.
I don’t know where I’m going.
My boots slam against the floor with every frantic step, the sound echoing through the hall. My fists clench, nails digging into my palms as if that pain will ground me somehow. My heart’s racing so fast I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
It’s like my whole chest is caving in.
My eyes blur as tears well up despite my blinking furiously.
I don’t want to cry.
I am strong.
I am independent.
I don’t need him…
Except I do.
Fucking hell, I do.
I need him like oxygen, like melody, like the spotlight itself. A sob slips out as I hunch over, holding my stomach. “It hurts,” I whisper, trembling.
Raoul rushes to my side, his arm circling me. “I know. I’m sorry, Effa. I thought he was one of the good ones, mon petit oiseau.”
I can’t speak. I just nod as he guides me gently down the hall and over to the side of the stage. The venue’s mostly cleared out now, the hum of the crowd long gone, and only a handful of crew linger.
We sit.
I curl into myself, arms hugging my waist, rocking slightly like it’ll hold the pieces of me together.
And then…
“Well, doesn’t this look like the picture of happiness?”
I look up.
Jett.
His voice oozes faux sympathy as he swaggers over with that signature smirk.
Raoul immediately shifts, sitting straighter, alert.
“You okay, cupcake?” he asks, lips twisting downward in mock concern.
I glare at him. “Go away, Jett. Please.”
He shrugs. “Sure, if that’s what you want. But I’m a fantastic listener, and it looks like you could use one.” He starts to walk off, but only a few steps. Then he props himself on the stage, lingering just far enough to be annoying.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
He feigns surprise. “Oh, I didn’t think we were talking, but now that we are…” He scoots a little closer. “You’re hurting, I can tell. And you might not want to admit it, but you need someone right now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here, your silent stage shadow. Unless… you want to talk.”
I huff, wiping beneath my eyes. My walls are already cracked, and maybe he is right. Maybe talking would help.
I sigh and pat the space beside me.
His face lights up like he’s won something spectacular. He jumps down and settles beside me, leg brushing mine. Raoul notices, and his stare could cut steel, but Jett ignores it.
“So… what’d he do?” Jett asks, softer now.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sometimes you need to,” Jett replies, placing a hand on my knee.
Raoul leans across, expression grim, and removes Jett’s hand as if it’s contaminated.
My lips twitch despite myself.
“Mercs wants his ex,” I blurt. “That’s all there is to it.”
Jett stiffens, and his whole demeanor darkens. “He’s a fucking idiot if he’d trade you for someone else.”
I glance at him. “You shouldn’t talk about him like that.”
His jaw flexes, and he sighs. “You’re beautiful, Effa. Worthy of love, of loyalty. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.
That’s when Raoul shifts, but he’s not the only one.
A flash of movement catches my eye, and then I see him.
Mercs.
Storming toward us like a thundercloud on legs, his eyes blazing, jaw locked, rage radiating off him in waves.
I’ve never seen him this furious.
Holy shit.