Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Grace
I had been looking forward to this day off.
For weeks, my life had revolved around five exhausting, overworked pop stars who didn’t understand the concept of self-preservation.
My days were spent chasing them down, stopping them from pushing themselves to the brink, keeping them from getting mobbed by screaming fans, and—somehow—keeping myself from losing my mind in the process.
So when I finally got a free day, all I wanted to do was nothing.
No schedules. No security meetings. No Dominic smirking at me like he could see every thought I tried to bury.
Just my couch, a blanket, and complete silence.
I had barely settled in when Olivia ruined everything.
She stormed into my apartment, practically vibrating with excitement, her blonde ponytail swinging as she clapped her hands together. "Get up. We’re bonding today!"
I groaned, sinking further into the couch. "No, we’re not."
"Yes, we are."
I didn’t even open my eyes. "Pick literally any other day."
"You say that every time."
"And I mean it every time."
Olivia huffed, yanking the blanket off of me, ignoring my death glare as she waved something in my face. "Too bad! Because I got us tickets."
That got my attention.
I narrowed my eyes, sitting up just enough to snatch the paper from her hands. My stomach dropped the second I read it.
DreamCrest: LIVE IN CONCERT – VIP EXPERIENCE.
I stared at the ticket.
Then at Olivia.
Then back at the ticket.
No. No way.
"Tell me this is a joke," I said flatly.
Olivia just beamed. "Surprise!"
I died a little inside.
I hadn’t told her about my job. She knew I was working security for some high-profile client, but she hadn’t asked for details, and I hadn’t offered any. If she knew I had been spending every waking moment with her favorite band, she would actually combust.
I had to get out of this.
"Liv," I started, forcing my voice into something calm, reasonable. "I appreciate the gesture, but I really don’t want to go to a concert tonight."
Olivia gasped like I had insulted her entire existence. "What?! Are you insane? It’s DreamCrest!"
"Exactly," I muttered. "Thousands of screaming fans, overpriced merch, music I’ve already heard way too much?—"
"You don’t even listen to them!"
I clenched my jaw. Yeah, not willingly. But spending every day with them meant their songs were permanently embedded in my brain.
"Come on," Olivia pouted. "It’s not just about the music. Their concerts are an experience. The energy, the connection with the fans—it’s like magic."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Liv?—"
"Please," she begged, weaponizing her little sister voice. "I got VIP passes. Do you know how hard those are to get? This is the biggest night of my life."
I groaned.
I could say no. I should say no.
But Olivia was bouncing on her toes, practically glowing, and if I rejected her outright, I’d never hear the end of it.
So against all my better judgment, I muttered, "Fine."
Olivia squealed. "You’re the best! Get dressed—we’re leaving in an hour!"
I dropped my head back onto the couch and regretted everything.
The venue was packed, the energy electric.
I had spent years working in high-pressure environments, had been in the middle of elite negotiations, security crises, and adrenaline-pumping situations, but this? This was something else.
The stadium was filled to max capacity, waves of fans dressed in DreamCrest merch, flashing light sticks, screaming before the concert even began.
The energy in the air was tangible, buzzing like static electricity.
Olivia was practically vibrating with excitement beside me, rattling off random facts about the band, completely unaware that I could probably correct half of them.
"They always open with an explosive performance," she gushed. "Something high-energy to get the crowd going. But tonight’s gonna be special—they teased a brand-new song. Something emotional."
I barely reacted, keeping my expression neutral.
But internally?
Something shifted.
I hadn’t heard anything about a new song. I had sat in on their rehearsals, listened to their setlists, memorized their schedules down to the second—but no one had mentioned this.
Before I could think too hard about it, the lights cut out, plunging the stadium into darkness.
The crowd erupted, screams filling every inch of space as the stage came to life, glowing in deep blues and silvers, a sharp contrast to their usual neon-laced productions.
The first few beats of a slow, haunting melody hummed through the air, a piano playing a quiet, familiar rhythm.
But it wasn’t one of their usual hits.
And then Dominic’s voice filled the room.
"We’ve been running, we’ve been hiding, chasing shadows in the night."
I felt it before I even understood it.
The weight of his voice. The quiet strain behind it.
The vulnerability.
The screen behind them flickered to life, playing not choreographed visuals, not staged perfection—but raw, unfiltered moments.
Shots of them in the studio, exhausted, laughing, fighting, struggling.
Jaden asleep at the piano, Theo hunched over contract papers, Riley staring at his phone, scrolling through hate comments.
Ezra pacing backstage, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.
Dominic alone in the rooftop of the penthouse, staring at the city like it was a prison.
The lyrics bled into me before I could block them out.
"Tried to hold it in, keep the world out—fake the smiles, make it bright."
My chest tightened.
Because I knew.
I knew exactly what these words meant.
This wasn’t just a song. This wasn’t another manufactured ballad for the fans to cry over.
This was them.
The things they never said out loud. The nights they spent breaking apart in silence.
Dominic’s voice was lower now, raw, something barely held together.
"But we’re tired, God, we’re tired. Can’t keep running from the light."
I swallowed, forcing my breath to stay even.
The camera zoomed in on Dominic, and for a second, I didn’t see the golden boy, the untouchable frontman of DreamCrest.
I saw him.
The man who carried too much, too quietly. The man who never let himself be tired, never let himself slip, never let himself stop holding everything together.
And suddenly, I felt it.
That awful, burning sensation in my eyes, the lump in my throat tightening.
No.
No, no, no.
I was not crying.
I refused.
But then Dominic lifted his head, and his gaze flickered across the crowd—searching, lingering—until for a split second, he looked directly into the VIP section.
And at me.
I went completely still.
It was impossible. He couldn’t see me. The lights, the distance—it wasn’t possible.
And yet…
That look.
Like he knew.
Like he could see through everything I had spent weeks pretending not to feel.
I blinked rapidly, furious with myself.
But Olivia turned at that exact moment, gasping. "Oh my god. Are you crying?!"
I snapped my head toward her, horrified. "No."
"You are!"
"I’m not."
"You so are!"
I turned back toward the stage, jaw tight.
I wasn’t crying.
Except maybe I was.
And I hated that I finally understood why they mattered.