27. Jules
Jules
The lights hit before the cameras do.
They always do. Hot, bright, and blinding in that deliberate way that says you’re being seen now, even while we’re still walking into position and production assistants are clipping microphones to our clothes.
I roll my shoulders once, careful of my ribs, and let the familiar hum settle into my bones.
Show mode.
Easy. Natural. Safe.
Except none of those things are true anymore.
The interview set has been built inside one of the arena’s backstage studios, close enough to the main floor that I can feel the production vibrating through the walls. A curved gold couch faces three cameras beneath a massive screen displaying the ECLIPSE RUN logo over Tokyo’s skyline.
Strictly Midnight Halo this time.
Kaia sits at one end of the couch, with Mina beside her and Remy in the middle. I take the remaining seat and resist the urge to look towards the control area.
Camille is behind the cameras with Blaire and the production team. I don’t need to see her to know exactly where she is. The bond sits beneath my skin like a second pulse, steadier after last night and painfully clear after what happened in our room this afternoon.
That kiss was different.
Camille was different.
For one moment, the bond opened wide enough for me to feel something from her that was too large and too warm to dismiss as attraction. I haven’t decided what to call it yet, mostly because naming it would require admitting that something equally terrifying might be growing on my side.
Now she is several meters away, preparing to rewrite our magical contracts in the middle of a live performance.
Totally normal wife behavior.
Camille believes her override will work. I felt the certainty beneath her fear when she explained it. The plan is supposed to alter the contract from inside the active performance window, close the resonance channel, and sever whatever has attached itself to us.
Supposed to is doing a lot of work.
Still, I trust her.
The realization lands strangely. I trust the girls. I trust them with my life because I have handed it to them more times than I can count.
I do not trust other people.
Not like this.
“Thirty seconds,” someone calls.
Kaia looks down the couch at us. “Approved answers only.”
“Always,” I say.
Remy gives me a flat look.
“What? I’m incredibly professional.”
“You told an interviewer you wanted to fight the moon.”
“It knew what it did.”
Mina presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. The tension in the bond eases slightly, carrying Camille’s restrained exasperation from somewhere behind camera two.
I smile before I can stop myself.
“Ten seconds.”
The host takes her seat opposite us, bright-eyed and perfectly styled in a silver suit. The red light above the center camera turns on.
Her smile widens.
“Welcome back. We’re live from Tokyo with Midnight Halo only hours before the final performance of their record-breaking ECLIPSE RUN world tour.”
Applause plays through the studio speakers. Some of it is from the small audience gathered behind the cameras. The rest is digitally amplified.
I feel it anyway.
Anticipation. Excitement. Relief.
Attention presses against my skin.
The host turns towards us. “First, welcome to Tokyo.”
“Thank you,” Kaia says. “We’re excited to be here.”
“Very excited,” Mina adds.
“I’ve already been abandoned for a vending machine,” Remy says.
I look at her. “It had hot coffee in a can.”
“It was not for you.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
The host laughs. “It sounds like you’ve had time to explore.”
“Not enough,” I say. “I’m considering staying.”
“You hate packing,” Mina reminds me.
“Exactly. That’s why I’d live here. No packing required.”
More laughter.
Easy.
Normal.
The host glances at the cards in her lap. “This final show has become especially meaningful after the tour was briefly interrupted in Barcelona.”
There it is.
The air shifts almost imperceptibly.
Kaia’s posture stays relaxed, but her knee presses against Mina’s. Remy’s attention sharpens. This question was approved, but that doesn’t make it pleasant.
The host looks directly at me. “Jules, this will be your first full performance since your medical emergency. How are you feeling?”
Like I got thrown into stage equipment by a supernatural parasite while a magical contract kept siphoning energy through my unconscious body.
“Fantastic,” I say. “Apparently I’m harder to get rid of than expected.”
Light laughter.
Kaia gives me a warning glance.
“I’ve been medically cleared,” I add, because I promised Blaire. “We’ve adjusted parts of the show, and I’m being monitored by an extremely dedicated team of people who have developed strong opinions about my electrolyte intake.”
Behind the cameras, the bond warms.
I do not look at Camille.
The host smiles. “Were you ever afraid you wouldn’t make it back for the final show?”
The approved version of this question was less direct.
I lean back against the couch. “I think anyone who gets hurt doing the thing they love has that moment.”
The joke waits automatically at the back of my throat. The studio quiets.
“But I wasn’t doing it alone,” I continue. “The girls were there. Our team was there. I had people making sure I rested even when I was being incredibly reasonable and charming about it.”
“Neither of those things happened,” Remy says.
“They happened emotionally.”
The audience laughs, but the warmth gathering in the room does not dissipate. It builds, pressing closer.
The host turns to Kaia. “Was cancelling Tokyo ever an option?”
“No,” Kaia says.
The answer comes too quickly to be the approved one.
The host’s eyebrows rise.
Kaia corrects without missing a beat. “We discussed every possibility. Jules’s health came first, and it still does. We would not be performing tonight if she had not been cleared.”
It is a polished answer.
It is also not an answer to the question.
The show was never going to be cancelled. Devin and Voss made that clear.
The host looks towards Remy. “How did the interruption affect the final performance?”
“We adjusted the arrangements,” Remy says. “Tonight’s show won’t be identical to the earlier dates.”
That is technically true.
She rewrote sections of the music to interfere with the patterns hidden inside it.
“Anything fans should listen for?” the host asks.
“Yes,” Remy says.
Then nothing else.
I turn towards her. “Excellent promotion.”
“I prefer manageable expectations.”
The host laughs again and shifts her attention to Mina. “And how does it feel knowing fans around the world are waiting to see you all together again?”
Mina’s fingers tighten around mine.
“Overwhelming,” she says honestly. “But in a good way. Mostly.”
Her gaze moves briefly towards the screen behind the host.
Something changes in her expression.
Small. Barely there.
I follow her attention, but the ECLIPSE RUN logo remains unchanged.
The host smiles towards the center camera. “Speaking of fans around the world, we have a surprise for you.”
Alarm moves through the bond.
Camille.
I look towards the control area before I can stop myself. She is standing beside Blaire now, one hand against the production desk. Her expression remains controlled, but I feel the warning beneath it.
This was not approved.
The screen behind the host flickers.
The tour logo disappears, replaced by a grid of live feeds from watch parties around the world.
Fans crowd into cinemas, clubs, living rooms, and outdoor plazas.
London. Barcelona. Seattle. Los Angeles.
S?o Paulo. Manila. Dozens of cities appear at once, each window full of people wearing our colors and waving light sticks towards their cameras.
The studio audience cheers.
The emotional surge hits me hard enough that my ribs tighten.
Love. Excitement. Devotion. Hunger.
Thousands of people focused on us at once, hours before we even step onto the stage.
The channel is already opening.
“Surprise,” the host says brightly. “Tonight’s pre-show broadcast is being carried live to fan events in thirty-two countries.”
Kaia’s smile does not move. “We weren’t told.”
The host laughs as though she is joking. “We wanted your reactions to be genuine.”
Of course they did.
Beside me, Remy goes rigid.
A musical sting plays beneath the fan footage. Soft percussion. Rising synth. Four repeating notes.
The same pattern.
She looks at me.
I hear it too.
The fan feeds begin chanting our name, each location slightly out of sync with the others. The sound should be messy.
Instead, it aligns.
Midnight Halo. Midnight Halo. Midnight Halo.
Every voice falls into the same rhythm.
The lights above us pulse once.
My microphone crackles.
A current moves through my chest in the wrong direction.
Not out towards the audience.
In.
I hear Camille’s voice from this afternoon.
Once the scheduled window begins, the channel may open before the first song. Do not engage with anything that feels external.
Very helpful advice when the external thing is apparently half the planet.
The host turns back towards us, but something about her expression has gone blank. Her smile remains in place while the muscles around it stop moving.
Mina inhales sharply.
The host looks directly at me.
“What do you owe them?”
The question is not on her cards.
No one answers.
The chanting continues behind her.
“What?” I ask.
Her head tilts. “They waited for you. They gave you their attention. Their love. Their devotion.”
The microphone distorts her voice. Something lower moves beneath it.
“What will you give them in return?”
The bond snaps tight.
Camille’s fear reaches me, sharp enough to cut through everything else.
A Mouthpiece.
Not fully inside the host. Maybe not inside her at all. It could be riding the microphone, the teleprompter, or the live feeds behind her.
Systems. Signals. People.
Whatever is available.
Mina’s grip threatens to crush my fingers. Kaia shifts closer to her. Remy looks past the host towards the control booth, waiting for the feed to be cut.
It does not cut.
Of course it doesn’t.
The system wants the question answered.
So I smile.
Not my real one.