CHAPTER thirty-eight
The Edge of Death
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
It’s true what they say: time really does fly when you’re having fun. And for the past month, that’s exactly what we’ve been doing: living our best lives.
Every show leaves our ears ringing and our heartbeats thrumming.
Our downtime became a blur of moments that felt too vivid to be real—dancing in the streets of New Orleans to a lone saxophone player; eating our weight in oysters in Savannah; Segway tours through D.C.
that ended with Cody nearly mowing down a pack of schoolchildren while we all laughed ourselves breathless.
Elias pulling me into him at the top of the Empire State Building, kissing me until the city fell away beneath our feet.
Sasha and I laying out on the beach in Tampa for hours, the laughter we shared so sharp it ached the next morning.
Bonding in cramped green rooms, on buses, in hotel hallways.
It’s chaos, it’s breathtaking—it’s the kind of life I used to daydream about when I felt stuck in that cubicle.
Not that it’s easy. The guys are running themselves ragged in the studio, determined to perfect the album before the tour’s end.
I’m juggling venue logistics, last-minute schedule changes, merch shortages, and the flood of new attention the band’s getting.
It’s exhausting and relentless. And I wouldn’t trade a single second.
Today we’re rolling into Pittsburgh, the band’s hometown, and the air feels heavier, somehow. Like the show tonight won’t just be unforgettable for the crowd, but for the guys, too.
I snag two paper cups of coffee and pad to the front of the bus.
As expected, Elias is at the wheel, hands steady on the leather, eyes on the horizon.
I lean down and kiss his cheek, the smell of woodsy cologne clinging to his skin, before dropping into the passenger seat.
The dashboard rattles as I set the cups in the holders.
“Thanks,” he mutters, glancing at me briefly as he reaches for his coffee.
It’s subtle, but I see it—the shift. The way his posture stiffens as soon as I’m close enough to notice. His shoulders wind tight, jaw ticking. Eyes fixed on the road, expression smoothed into something unreadable, and knee bouncing idly.
“Everything okay, babe?” I ask.
His fingers tighten on the steering wheel, a split second of hesitation before he flicks me a smile—too quick, too neat to be real.
“Yes, love.”
I reach out, trailing my fingers lightly along his forearm. A quiet offering. I’m here. You don’t have to say it yet.
He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t soften either.
After a long, heavy silence Elias finally speaks.
“There’s something I need to go take care of before the show tonight.”
“Okay. Do you need me to come with you?” I ask, still running my fingers along his arm.
“No. I need to go alone.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
Elias slips away the moment we pull up to the venue—no goodbye, no glance over his shoulder, not even a brush of his hand against mine. Just the sharp slam of a car door and then he’s gone.
The coldness isn’t new. It’s been creeping in for a few days now—quiet, abrupt, slicing through our moments like a sudden draft.
He’s been distant with everyone, but with me…
it stings differently. Because I’ve seen the way he softens when he lets me in.
I’ve felt it. And now it’s like he’s building walls so fast I can barely see the bricks.
Something’s bothering him—something big—but he hasn’t offered even a sliver of it. And I don’t want to push. Elias doesn’t unfold easily, and he definitely doesn’t do it on command.
So I give him space. And I let the silence be an invitation instead of a demand, hoping he’ll eventually step into it.
I throw myself into helping the guys and Sasha with the merch stand, grateful for something that keeps my hands busy and my mind from spiraling. We unload boxes, hang shirts, arrange vinyls, string together signage.
“Looks good,” Sasha says, giving me a gentle nudge.
“Yeah,” I murmur, though my eyes keep drifting toward the door, hoping he’ll walk through it.
When he doesn’t, I dust off my hands and force myself into motion.
“Okay,” I say, more to myself than anyone, “time to find the venue owner.”
A man leans casually against the counter, and I almost do a double-take.
He’s tall and wiry, his look some chaotic collision of punk and redneck—like Joe Dirt if he’d been raised on dive-bar concerts instead of NASCAR.
A black leather jacket hangs from his frame, chains slung across the back like a makeshift spine.
Cutoff shorts, scuffed boots, and a deep-V white tee finish the ensemble.
And then there’s his hair—half mohawk, half mullet, unapologetically ridiculous in a way that somehow works.
“Hi, are you Eric? The venue owner?” My voice carries over the low hum of sound check. Reign’s neat list of names flashes in my memory. God bless him for that.
“That’s me,” he says, grin warm and wide as his hand clasps mine. His many facial piercings shift with every expression.
“I’m Ramona, the band’s manager. We’re thrilled to be here—hometown shows always hit different.”
“Hell yeah, they do!” His grin sharpens. “Wait—you’re the Ramona? From that video?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I admit, an awkward laugh slipping out.
“That was badass,” he says, winking. “Can’t wait to see it live tonight.”
Before I can reply, movement in my peripheral pulls my attention.
Elias. Hands buried in his pockets, he walks toward us with deliberate steps, expression mysterious.
“Here he is!” Eric crows, clapping his hands together. “Mr. Emo Prince Charming himself.”
Elias’s mouth barely twitches at the joke. His shoulders are rigid, a fine sheen of sweat along his brow despite the cool air inside. He shakes Eric’s hand briefly, eyes distant and unfocused.
“Happy to be here,” he mutters.
I rest my palm lightly against his back. The tension under my hand is unmistakable, tight as a coiled spring. I glance up at him, searching his face for some silent answer. Are you okay?
A short nod. Hands shoved back into pockets. Silence stretches for a beat too long before I break it.
“We’ll get set up and be ready to rock the house.”
Eric beams and heads toward the bar. Cody’s voice rings out from across the room, calling for Elias. He slips away without a word, my hand falling uselessly to my side.
Everything about him feels off. Wrong, even, but with doors about to open, it’ll have to wait.
“You guys ready?” I call, leaning my head around the side of the curtain.
Jasper’s perched on his drum stool, absentmindedly twirling a stick. Grady’s fiddling with his bass strap, tightening and loosening it like it’s a ritual. Cody, on the other hand, is mid-stretch, hands braced on his hips, torso twisting like he’s warming up for a track meet instead of a concert.
“Always ready!” he grunts, voice strained from whatever contortion he’s attempting.
“What on earth are you doing, Cody?”
He straightens, face dead serious, as if I’ve just asked the dumbest question imaginable.
“Gotta stay limber, Ro. Being a rockstar is hard work.”
Before I can respond, he folds himself in half again, this time facing away, so I’m greeted with an unapologetic view of his admittedly tiny ass.
“Great,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
He winks at me upside down through his legs.
“You’re welcome.”
“Where’s Elias?” I scan the space, suddenly aware that he’s absent.
“He said he’d be right back, something about a phone call,” Jasper says with a shrug, not looking up from his sticks.
Something shifts in my stomach, it’s small, but sharp. I try to brush it off.
“I’ll go track him down. Good luck, guys.”
They flash me grins and go back to their rituals as I weave my way through the tightening crowd. The room hums with pre-show anticipation—laughter, clinking glasses, the distant thrum of bass bleeding through the walls.
Outside, the night air hits cool against my skin. The bus door creaks open just as I step onto the curb. Elias emerges, phone pressed to his ear.
“See you then,” he mutters before hanging up and shoving something small into his pocket.
He finally notices me, eyes startling slightly like he didn’t expect to see me. I wave as I close the distance between us.
“The guys are almost ready to start,” I say. “Who was that?”
A flash of a smile, too practiced to be casual.
“Oh—uh, just a studio guy.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, glancing down at the hand in his pocket, the unease in my stomach coiling tighter.
He hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face toward his until our eyes meet. For a beat, he studies me like he’s memorizing something. There’s a solemnity in his expression. Then he presses a tender, lingering kiss to my forehead.
With tonight’s show falling on Halloween, we all leaned into the spirit and decided to dress up.
I tried to convince Elias to do a couple’s costume with me, something cheesy and adorable, but he shut it down immediately with, “I love you a lot, but not enough for that.” Charming.
So, I teamed up with Cody instead, who—bless him—is always down for some chaos and camp.
We decided on Bryce Quinlan and Hunt Athalar from Crescent City.
Cody’s rocking a CCU Sunball hat and a ridiculous set of giant wings that somehow didn’t stop him from absolutely shredding during the set.
I’ve got my red curls wild and loose, thigh-high boots, and a glittering crescent moon necklace.
The fans showed up in costume too: ghouls, fairies, vampires, skeletons, along with an energy that was unlike anything I’ve felt before. Unhinged in the best way.
After the show, the venue let us throw a Halloween-themed afterparty for VIPs. The guys are scattered across the space, mingling and taking photos, drinks in hand, laughter echoing through the room.
But Elias… he’s been off since we got here. He smiled through soundcheck, and still killed it during the show, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he kept rubbing his palms together like he was trying to shake something off.
When he ended the show with Cotton Candy Skies, the way he looked at me from across the space felt different than before. The words felt more like a plea than a declaration.
He weaves his way through the crowd now, back toward the merch table where I’ve been chatting with Sasha, who’s currently dressed as a sexy ringmaster with Jasper playing her very convincing tiger.
When he reaches me, his smile is thin. I rest my hands on his arms.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, studying his face.
He glances around like the walls are too close.
“Yeah… I’m not feeling great. I’m gonna go lie down for a bit,” he says, raising his voice enough to be heard over the music.
“Oh, okay.” I soften my voice. “I’ll come with you.”
He shakes his head, already taking a step back.
“No, stay. Have fun. Really—I’m good. Just need to be horizontal for a bit.”
“Are you sure?” I squeeze his forearms gently.
“Yeah. I promise.” He leans down and kisses me, lingering just a second too long. Then he turns and disappears into the crowd.
I’m still staring at the spot where he vanished when Sasha says, “Everything good?”
“I think so,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her. “He just said he wasn’t feeling well. Went to lie down.”
She nods, sipping her soda, and turns back to sway to the music.
Cody bounds up like a golden retriever in six-foot wings, eyes wide and a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Quinlan! This is the best night ever!” He flaps his wings dramatically, almost knocking over a table.
“How much did you actually spend on those wings?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.
He grins, “Enough to make it a financially irresponsible decision. But no regrets!”
I laugh and slap his arm, but before I can say anything else, he grabs my hand and drags me onto the dance floor. The DJ is spinning a mashup of My Chemical Romance and EDM, and fans crowd around us, everyone lost in the music and madness.
But time starts to tug at me. I glance down at my watch and almost an hour has passed since Elias left.
“I’m gonna go check on Elias,” I yell to Cody over the bass.
He stops mid-dance, his expression darkening in an instant.
“Oh shit. Ro—fuck, I forgot what today is.”
I blink, confused.
“What do you mean?”
He pulls me toward a quieter hallway, away from the pulsing lights and sound.
Blowing out a breath, he rakes a hand through his hair.
“The fire… I’m guessing he told you?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, my chest tightening.
“It happened on Halloween. He and his brother had just gotten home from trick-or-treating. His dad locked them all inside, doused the place in lighter fluid, and… lit the match.”
My blood runs cold.
“I can’t believe I forgot. God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” he mutters, gripping his hair with both hands.
My stomach twists.
“He’s been kind of… off all day. I thought maybe it was just being back in his hometown, but—”
“No. It’s the anniversary. I’m sure of it,” he says grimly.
I nod, already turning to go. “I need to find him.”
Cody doesn’t say anything else or stop me, just watches with solemn understanding as I push out the back door and into the quiet night, the beat of the party still pulsing faintly behind me.
The night air bites at my skin as I step outside, the chill immediate and sharp.
I wrap my arms tightly around myself, scanning the shadowed edges of the lot.
A figure in a Scream mask descends from the bus ahead and scurries off into the dark.
I assume it’s just another intoxicated guest searching for a bathroom.
“Elias?” I call out, my voice uncertain as I reach for the bus door. It groans on its hinges as I push it open.
What I see as I step inside steals every bit of air from my lungs.