CHAPTER EIGHT
No Salvation, No Reprieve
Baltimore, Maryland
The gentle shifting of the bus jolts me awake, and for a moment, I feel disoriented, my mind scrambling to figure out where I am. And then it clicks, I’m still in the passenger seat.
Elias is gone.
A flush of embarrassment creeps up my neck. How long was I asleep? Did I snore? Oh god.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but something about the steady rhythm of the bus, the low hum of the road, and the music he had been playing must have pulled me under without me realizing it.
I blink, clearing the lingering grogginess, and glance at the time on the dash. With the long drive behind us, we’re already at the next venue, and the guys are probably deep into unloading gear.
I peel myself out of the seat, stepping off the bus, and sure enough, the band is already at work—lifting amps, hauling cases, setting up merch.
Elias is nowhere to be found.
I feel a small pang of disappointment. I had wanted to apologize for falling asleep, maybe even joke about it. But instead, Cody’s voice yanks me back into the moment.
“Where’d you go? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!”
I turn to find him hoisting an amp onto his shoulder, his voice slightly strained from the weight.
“I started to feel a little carsick earlier, so I sat up front to get some air... and I accidentally fell asleep. I hope I didn’t annoy Elias too much.”
Cody lets out a bark of laughter. “Ah, I’m sure you didn’t. That man loves silence. Which I totally don’t get at all.”
I snort, completely understanding what he means.
Cody and Elias are so different—one all chaotic energy, constantly talking, the human embodiment of a golden retriever, and the other calculated and reserved.
It makes me wonder about their friendship, how they even work together when they’re practically opposites. But somehow… they do.
Out of nowhere, a jarring ringtone blares to life from Cody’s back pocket, loud enough to startle a few nearby pigeons. The unmistakable, aggressively cheerful sound of Walking on Sunshine pours out into the area. Because, of course, that’s his ringtone.
Without missing a beat, he shifts the heavy amp in his arms and twists slightly to stick his hip out toward me.
“Hey Ro, mind grabbing that for me?” he grunts.
I reach into the back pocket of his jeans with a dramatic sigh, fishing out his phone. The screen lights up with Mom and a row of heart emojis.
I flash it in front of him. “Parental alert.”
“Put her on speaker,” he says, still balancing the amp with exaggerated flair. I oblige, tapping the button and holding the phone steady.
“Hey, Mom! What’s up?” His voice softens into an even cuter version of himself—boyish, full of sunshine just like the ringtone.
“Hi, baby! Just calling to check in. How’s my little rockstar?” she says, her voice effervescent, all honey and high spirits. The moment she speaks, I understand exactly where he gets it from.
“Tour’s amazing! Shows are packed, vibes are great. We picked up a new team member, too. Say hi, Ramona!”
“Hi, Mrs. Carmen,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m the new merch girl, and I can confirm that your son is both a blessing and a mild tornado.”
She laughs, that same vibrant energy crackling through the speaker.
“That’s my Cody.”
Just then, Elias steps out of the venue, a duffel slung over his shoulder, his expression impassive as he scans the lot.
“Oh hey, Mom,” Cody adds, his tone hopeful, glancing toward him. “Wanna say hi to Elias?”
There’s a beat. Then another.
The pause stretches just long enough to make the air between us thin and awkward. He stops mid-step, his eyes locking on the phone in my hand.
“No, sweetheart,” she says finally, her tone cooling several degrees. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, baby.” The earlier sparkle in her voice vanishes like a light switch flipped off.
Cody stares at the screen, frowning faintly as the call disconnects. He gives Elias a look—apologetic, almost helpless.
He doesn’t flinch. He just nods once, tight and sharp, then turns back toward the trailer, grabbing a tote without a word. But I catch it, that flicker in his eyes. A flash of something wounded, but not necessarily unexpected.
I glance at Cody, who doesn’t say a word either, but his shoulders sag just slightly.
Sensing the heaviness lingering in the air, I step in and silently grab a box of shirts. The tension simmers around us, but no one addresses it.
As I start folding tees and lining up sizes, I glance back once toward the guys now sitting together at the bar. There’s a slight tension surrounding them, but they keep going through the motions.
I can’t shake the moment from my mind. The way her voice shifted—like a door softly closing—at the mention of Elias. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Cody said they had been friends since they were kids, so I would assume their families were close. Close enough to be considered one of their own.
So why that change in tone?
And then there was Elias—how he barely reacted on the outside, but I saw it. That faint crack in his armor. It wasn’t surprise that flashed across his face—it was something worse.
Recognition.
Like he expected it. As if he has learned to live with it. The pain wasn’t loud, but it was there. Quiet. Familiar. Worn.
And I can’t help but wonder what happened between them to leave a scar like that.
A sharp, cracking sound from the stage rips my attention away.
Traeger is up there, squared off with one of Hellwake’s crew members, his posture stiff with fury.
The only words I catch are ‘fucking idiot’ in his razor-sharp tone, each syllable cutting.
He’s right in the poor guy’s face, finger jabbing the air like a weapon.
The kid shrinks back, shoulders curling inward as Traeger keeps unloading on him. Then, with a sudden swipe, Traeger smacks something out of his hands. Plastic pieces scatter across the stage like confetti.
“If it happens again, you’re fucking buried,” he snaps before storming off, his boots pounding with every step.
I wince, stomach tightening. The crew member’s shoulders sag as he crouches to collect the debris—guitar picks, dozens of them, skittered everywhere like fallen leaves.
I push up from the stool, ready to help, but before I can take a step, Elias hops onto the stage.
He moves quietly, almost gently, crouching beside the guy until they’re eye-level.
He places a steady hand on the crew member’s shoulder.
He nods, gratitude softening his face, and stands.
Elias gathers the last of the scattered picks himself, rises, and hands them over with a small, reassuring smile.
He says something, too soft for me to hear and the tension in the air seems to ease, just a little.
Then his gaze drifts over the stage, landing directly on me. It lingers just a beat too long. I smile, warmed by the simple kindness he didn’t have to show.
He dips his head in acknowledgment, almost shy, then disappears backstage before I can even breathe.
When a break finally hits between sales, I take the chance to steal a glance at the stage.
The guys are commanding it the way they always do—like the whole thing was built for them and them alone. My eyes find Elias before I can even pretend they weren’t looking for him.
He pulls the microphone from the stand and moves across the stage slowly, with a confidence that only ever shows up when he’s performing. He steps onto an amp at the very front, arms stretching wide as he throws his head back, the note ripping through the venue in a path straight to my chest.
There’s something about him on stage that feels like looking into a different version of him entirely—someone unafraid, fully present, like every lyric he sings is burning through him in real time.
He loses himself in the music, but not in a way that begs rescuing—more like he’s finally exactly where he’s meant to be.
More lyrics brand themselves in my mind:
Hands reach but never find the light
The pressure crushes everything inside
I trade tomorrow for a fleeting glimpse
Of the ghost I lost but never quit
The water fills my lungs with fire
I choke on all my unforgivable sins
No salvation, no reprieve—
Only the echo of what might have been
Going down, down, down
Into the abyss
I’m drowning (drowning)
And I can’t resist
Once their set ends, I spot the guys at the back of the crowd, chatting with fans while Hellwake gets ready to take the stage.
Grady and Jasper are deep in conversation with two guys dressed in their finest Elder Emo attire: black skinny jeans, well-worn band tees, and the kind of dedication to side-swept bangs that made it clear they’d been committed to the aesthetic since 2007.
My eyes drift past them, landing on Elias and the girl he is talking to.
The blonde is petite, dressed in a sheer black top, a short leather skirt, and thigh-high boots that hug her legs like second skin. I have to give credit where it is due—her outfit is killer.
But it isn’t the outfit that is making my stomach twist. It is the way she leans into him, brushing her fingers over his crossed arms, flashing a flirtatious smile as she speaks.
“Your songs are so sad…I’m sure I could make you feel better.” She says, batting her eyelashes.
Elias, in contrast, looks disengaged. He isn’t rude, but his expression is flat, almost bored—like he is going through the motions of polite conversation but feels no real interest.
His gaze flicks toward mine. For just a second.
I arch a brow, smirking slightly in acknowledgment.
Then—just as quickly—he turns back to the blonde, offering nothing more than a nod as she continues chatting, clearly oblivious to his indifference.
Cody. Unlike Elias, he is fully embracing the fan interaction.
Even from across the venue, I can tell he is flirting his ass off with a cute, dark-haired girl. At one point, he even picks her up and spins her around, her giggles echoing as she playfully swats at his shoulder.
Classic Cody.