Page 80 of The Encore’s Crown

Block.

A warning appears.

I confirm it and his profile disappears.

Just like that.

The pressure in my chest loosens, just enough for air to drag its way back into me. I stare at the screen.

Take that, you piece of shit. Good luck watching me now.

“Natalia?”

I lock my phone and turn. Ryder is standing there with two martinis, concern pulling his brows together. Suri hovers behind him, watching us both.

“You disappeared,” he says.

“I’m right fucking here.”

I take one of the glasses and swallow half of it in a single burning mouthful.

Ryder smiles carefully. “There's the Natalia I know.”

No, you never knew me, Ry. That’s the point. I set the glass down, grab the front of his jacket, and kiss him. Hard.

He makes a startled sound before instinct takes over. His free hand slides around my waist, then lower, cupping the fullness of my ass, pulling me against him like this is what he's been waiting for all night. Maybe longer. He’s probably been masturbating to the memory of that New Year’s kiss ever since. I kiss him harder, then I… wait for something.

Heat, or a spark. Anything. Even disgust would be useful. There's nothing. His mouth is just a mouth. His body is only something solid beneath my hands. No fire. No sense that I’m standing too close to the edge of myself.

Nothing that can hurt me.

Over Ryder’s shoulder, I see Suri. Her face empties as she watches his hands travel over me. At first, guilt gets through, then I close my eyes.

I don’t feel a thing.

Chapter 33

The Fates

Kiri

Every time we play Hong Kong, Rithy drags us to the Meridian.

It's not optional. Neither is the booth overlooking Victoria Harbour, the bottle of whiskey none of us could afford the first time we came here, or the four glasses lined up in front of us before anyone is allowed to drink.

The first Hong Kong show we ever played was in a venue that reeked of bleach and a sewage problem that made us want to gag every time we took a breath. And money? What money. We didn't earn a dime from our first Asia tour, but we were just excited to be here. We hit that venue like we were trying to make up for every empty room we’d ever played. Ronan freaked when he cracked one of the house cymbals, Rafe went so hard he lost his voice halfway through the set, and Rithy spent the night convinced he’d seen the man he was going to marry in the pit.

Afterward, Stefan took us to the Meridian. He had connections, even back then. A friend of a friend who knew a billionaire who owed Stefan a favor. We stood downstairs for forty minutes while three different people explained that our names weren't on the list. Eventually, the connection pulled through and we ended up sharing one drink between four people because it cost more than our hotel rooms.

Stefan said it was something to strive for, proof that there were rooms we hadn’t earned our way into yet. I've never really given a fuck about this shit, but it served its purpose. We were sick of feeling like we weren't allowed in certain spaces, so the next gig, we went harder than ever before, like we were blowing those closed doors open.

We’ve come back every tour since. Now the staff know us and usher us directly to the private elevator. Everyone inside is famous, wealthy, beautiful, or attached to somebody who is. The kind of place where actors pretend not to notice other actors and billionaires dress like they’ve never considered the price of anything in their lives. Our usual booth, the first booth Stefan ushered us to like the embarrassments we were, is waiting in the corner.

Reserved for The Riven Altar.

Rithy slides in first and points at the seat beside him. I take my place against the curved leather. Rafe sits opposite me, dressed entirely in funeral black with his hair in a ponytail. He always gets mad at his hair when he's depressed; it's hilarious to fucking watch. A grown man fighting with his own hair. He’s been quiet since Kasia left Japan, which is saying something, because Rafe can make even silence feel theatrically loud when he wants to. This is a different kind of quiet. The kind I understand, because I feel it too, for a totally different reason. One I chose, but it doesn't make it any less heavy.

Tonight, he keeps turning his phone over on the table like he can summon her by checking it often enough.