Chapter 40 A Final Stand
A FINAL STAND
ENZO
By the time we finally walk inside the venue, the usual pre-show rush hits full force.
Roadies run back and forth, lights flicker onstage as they’re adjusted, and the faint hum of amps being tested fills the air.
The crowd’s buzz grows louder, a wave of energy building behind the walls, and it sends a familiar thrill down my spine.
This is it. This is home.
I try not to dwell on the fact that this is the second to last time that I’ll get to experience this rush. The band’s uncertain future can be dealt with later.
The dressing room quickly devolves into its usual chaos.
Dylan sits on the couch, tapping at his practice pad with no real pattern, cracking terrible jokes to lighten the mood.
Jax sulks against a wall, and Lily watches everyone with wide eyes, finally ditching her clipboard, now that she’s unemployed.
Jax moves to sit across from me, bouncing his leg so hard it’s a wonder the couch hasn’t started shaking. He hasn’t said much since Harris left, but the determined glint in his eyes tells me tonight isn’t going to be like the last few shows.
This one matters—for him, for us. It’s our last stand. Well, second to last, but the sentiment’s the same.
“Let’s get ready,” Marcus eventually says, as he pushes himself up and heads toward the back wall to grab his gear. “We need to get to soundcheck soon.”
“You good, Jax?” I ask, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms, keeping my tone low to avoid startling him.
He blinks at me, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m good. I’ve got to be, right? No other choice but to kill it tonight.”
“Damn straight,” I reply. “Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”
He manages a small, shaky smile. It’s not much, but it’s something.
I can still see the nerves in the way his hands tremble when he grabs his water bottle.
But this is different than before. There’s fire behind his fear now—not just the kind that burns you out, but the kind that fucking pushes you forward.
Maybe, just maybe, we’ll end up okay on the other side of this fucking mess.
“You know,” Dylan says with a grin, “if Jax bails, Lily’s ready to take over. She’s the real star now.”
Jax shoots him a glare, though there’s no heat behind it. “Yeah, yeah. The fans are already more obsessed with her than me. I’ve seen the blog.”
Lily, tying her hair back into a loose ponytail, rolls her eyes but can’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Not happening. You’re the voice of this band, Jax. I’m just backup. Also, I’d like to see this blog.”
“Nah, you’re more than that. And we can show you the blog later. We need to focus now,” Marcus adds, tuning his guitar. His tone is calm, but there’s steel behind it.
Jax takes a deep breath, his hands stilling as he rubs them together. I step closer, leaning against the wall near him.
“Hey,” I say, catching his eye. “You know what to do. Just go out there, be Jax. The rest will follow.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. “I know. Thanks, man.”
The call comes, and we move down the darkened hallway toward the stage. The noise grows louder with every step, anticipation vibrating through the walls. My heart pounds against my chest, the same old adrenaline rush hitting me like a drug. I don’t just want this. I need it.
The lights blaze as we step onto the stage, momentarily blinding me.
The thunder of voices from the crowd surges over us, raw and electric, shaking the very floor beneath my feet.
I take my spot, bass slung low, and scan the stage.
Marcus is already in position, fingers hovering over his strings with a focused intensity.
Dylan twirls his drumsticks with that cocky grin of his exuding confidence.
And then there’s Jax, standing front and center, mic in hand, staring out at the fans crowding the stage like he’s daring the world to challenge him.
“Hey,” Jax’s voice cuts through the noise, clear and commanding.
Our fans quiet, a hush of anticipation crackling in the air like static.
“We’ve had some news about the band recently—news that’s made us want to shake things up a bit tonight.
So, we’re starting this show differently.
” He pauses, gesturing toward the wings. “Let’s give it up for Lily.”
The venue erupts, the cheers deafening as Lily steps onto the stage. She hesitates for the briefest moment, but then she straightens, lifting her chin as she walks to her spot beside Jax. The mix of excitement and nerves on her face is unmistakable, but she owns it, holding her head high.
And then, we play.
From the very first note, the magic is undeniable.
The energy pulses through the venue, the crowd feeding off us and giving it back tenfold.
It’s a push and pull, a perfect symbiosis that builds with every song.
Jax’s voice is the strongest it’s been in months, carrying each lyric with raw emotion.
His confidence grows with every verse, every cheer, his stage presence magnetic.
Marcus’s guitar slices through the air with precision, the riffs sharp and clean. Dylan’s drums pound like a heartbeat, steady and driving, anchoring the chaos. My bass line hums beneath it all, grounding us, locking everything together.
And Lily—hell, Lily steals the show. Her voice intertwines with Jax’s like they were made to sing together, their harmonies weaving through the music in a way that’s both powerful and haunting. She doesn’t just perform; she commands. Every movement, every note, screams that she belongs here.
The final chord echoes through the arena, the lights dimming as the everyone explodes into thunderous applause.
They chant for an encore, their voices rising like a tidal wave, demanding more.
The energy is like touching a live wire, the current coursing through me viciously, and for a moment, it feels like we’re unstoppable.
As we leave the stage, drenched in sweat but riding the high, Marcus claps me on the back, his grin wide and unrestrained. “We nailed it,” he says, his voice hoarse but brimming with pride.
“Damn right we did,” I reply, my chest still heaving as I catch Jax’s eye. He stands there, his shoulders no longer weighed down, his expression lighter. “You good?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
He nods, his smile wobbly but sincere. “Yeah. I think... I think I’m getting there.”
Lily steps up beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Her eyes are bright, her smile soft but full of determination. “We’re all getting there,” she says, her voice steady.
And I immediately know in my gut that the label dropping us isn’t going to stop our music.