“What I do know,” Keaton begins after an unnerving pause, his voice low and steady, “is that if Raina doesn’t recover, you’ll lose your biggest star. And if that happens... well, your label will suffer too.”
The words hang in the air between them, charged like an invisible barrier cutting deep into the power dynamics. It’s not a threat—Keaton would never stoop to that bastard’s level—but it’s a damning truth. I might be close to finishing my contract binding me to the devil, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do everything in his power to try and stop me from escaping his clutches.
Before anyone can break the silence, the door swings open once more, and Izzy struts in. Her heels strike the floor with a fierce rhythm, each click echoing through the room like gunshots. It’s as if her arrival is a declaration of war, her staccato steps demanding attention and instilling fear in those around her.
She casts a dismissive glance at Dickless before her focus shifts to me. “Raina,” she greets in her usual, polished tone as she strides across the room. She keeps it professional, but there’s no missing the softness of affection and worry in her eyes.
The large purse she carries with her that’s really more like a briefcase lands on one of the extra chairs with a thump and she turns to face off with the enemy in the room. Her hands smooth down her perfectly tailored blazer.
“What the hell...” Dickless starts to object but stops abruptly when Izzy simply holds up her hand. My manager is a shield against the world. She’s tough as steel and doesn’t tolerate nonsense, especially from people like him.
Without missing a beat, she pulls a packet of documents from her designer bag and slams it on the bedside table. “Some light reading for you, Mr. Lexington,” she suggests with a pointed, sardonic smile. “Might educate you on what ‘force majeure’ means.” She doesn’t wait for his response, instead turning her gaze squarely back on me.
Izzy is one of the few people who can make Dickless quiver; I’m learning that she has that effect on most people who think they can control me. I won’t make light of the tension that fills every corner of this sterile room, the silence is heavy enough to stifle even the harshest echoes.
Keaton continues to stroke my hair, calming me as the stress seems to drain every ounce of energy I found from my latest nap—if you can even call it that, more like passing the fuck out.
“Raina, dear, how are you doing?” The care she shows me is like a slap in the face to the man who pretends to be family. His head jerks back, and he sneers at her, disdain clear in the twist of his lips like he’s disgusted. He’s been careful about surrounding me with people who don’t give a shit about me. He has to absolutely hate her.
“The cops want to speak with you,” he snaps, the intensity of his focus on me once more. The weight of it lands over me, trying to smother my every breath. “I suggest you tell them the truth about that new guitarist attacking you.”
He pins me with a stare I’m all too familiar with, the one warning me that I need to do exactly as he’s suggestingor else. Past me would fold in an instant—follow his warning above and beyond to avoid being punished—but I made myself a promise.
I might be battered… I might be bruised… but I’ll never be that broken version of myself again.
The door slams shut behind Dickless, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot, making me wince. Pain burns through my neck, compounded with a swelling of emotions threatening to choke me. I’ve never felt so silenced, shut inside myself unable to communicate.
A glance at Keaton reminds me that I’m not alone, he has to know all too well what I’m going through, even if it was his choice. I can’t help but wonderwhyhe’s remained silent for what I’ve gathered has been years. There’s so much more I need to learn about him.
Mentally shaking off the thought, I focus on the here and now. Taking a deep breath, I almost taste the tension in the air, thick and acrid. Keaton’s jaw is set; his eyes lock with Izzy’s, a silent exchange that shouts all the things we can’t say out loud. It’s easy enough to see what they’re thinking—Dickless is the one behind the attack, and he wants to blame Darius for it.
The walls close in, and my breath feels shallow.
I’ve thought it before, but never felt it so deeply—I’m worth more dead than alive. At least to him, I am.
It makes me sick thinking about all the things he’s done to me, but this is on a whole new level… Hiring an assassin? Is that really what it’s come to?
And then to threaten me to be complicit in framing someone who did nothing but try to save my life?
No.
I won’t cover up his crime.
In fact, I hope it bites him in the motherfucking ass.
A click of the door releasing draws my attention as Nash and Blake step in, their faces taut with concern. Nash holds his phone up with Darius on the screen, his voice crackling through the speaker, saying something about not being able to see anything with how fast he moves the phone around. My bass player sets the phone down on the rolling table placed at the end of my bed, making sure I can see the phone.
I scan their faces—Blake’s fidgeting hands betray his anxiety, while Nash’s effortless charm falters under the weight of seeing me in a hospital bed. I feel small, trapped between the looming shadows of my uncle’s manipulations and the very real possibility of losing my identity as a pop star.
Then there’s Darius. He saved me, yet he’s being punished. Hopefully, that can get cleared up when I speak to the police. His gaze is filled with sadness and slight frustration that he can’t turn the phone to face what he wants himself.
“Raina,” Izzy steps forward, commanding attention with an intensity that pulls me from the suffocating atmosphere. Her gaze pierces through my fog of despair. “I wanted to come and give you an update on where we stand. Nash and Blake were released with no charges. They were only taken into custody because of Mr. Lexington’s insistence. Darius, on the other hand, is out on bail. We should be able to get everything clearedup once you talk to the detective on the case, but until then, there’s a restraining order that he can’t come near you.”
I lean back against the pillows, sudden sadness sweeping through me. Darius saved me, and I can’t even fucking thank him.
“Hey,” Izzy says softly. She grabs my hand and squeezes. “I’ve got this. We haven’t been together long, but I’m ready to go to full on battle for you.” Relief flickers inside me, easing a hint of the storm swirling in my chest. “But right now, we need to focus on you.”
Me?I point to my chest.
