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“Tris?” Andrej said behind him. “Everything okay?”

Tristan nodded. Tension hung in the air as the audience waited for the next song.

After Leaf took a sip of his beer, he placed the cup back next to the bass drum. He probably hadn’t thought of starting the intro yet, knowing that Tristan always introduced this song with a comment. When Leaf straightened up, tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear, and smiled at him, something inside Tristan clicked.

With brisk strides, he bridged the gap to Leaf, placing a hand on his neck as he kissed him on the lips.

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing him again.

The moment froze, and time stood still. There was only Leaf and him. As he felt Leaf’s hand on his cheek and saw him smile, Tristan exhaled, astonished.

“Damn … that’s the end of keeping it quiet.”

Leaf kissed him once more and rested his forehead against Tristan’s. Tristan then tore himself away and returned the microphone to its stand. It was only then that the noise reached him once more. Emotions in the Whisky were boiling over. Tristan noticed several phones pointed toward the stage.

“Well,” he said somewhat embarrassed into the microphone. “It’s out now, but what can I do? I love this guy. Uh … where were we?” He was surprised at how much he had just thrown himself off course. His heart raced as he searched for the setlist on the floor. But it also felt so good, so right. It was a shame the moment hadn’t lasted longer.

Leaf unexpectedly approached from the side. “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered in Tristan’s ear, then kissed him tenderly on the cheek before disappearing again.

Heat rushed through Tristan’s body, and he couldn’t help but smile after him.

Before the moment dragged on unnecessarily, Leaf started the intro to the next song. José joined in, tapping the rhythm on the bass drum. This gave Tristan the opportunity to take a deep breath. He turned his back to the cheering audience and met the eyes of two grinning friends. José was beaming, while Andrej chuckled and shook his head.

Tristan let himself be carried through the songs and felt empowered by this realization. It was as if a noose around his neck had loosened, something he hadn’t noticed until now, and he could breathe more easily.

He didn’t dwell further on the kiss and refocused his concentration on the show. In the second half, he apologized for the gig at the House of Blues and the disastrous performance. The audience applauded graciously, which, given the recent news circulating about Nightstalker, was no longer a big surprise.

As the end approached, it was Milo who kept creeping into Tristan’s thoughts. He would have been so proud of them and would have watched the concert from the bar. The thought was comforting and made Tristan pause. It was almost impossible that anyone in this room didn’t know what had happened to him. The whole world had talked about it. Suddenly, Tristan felt like he would be leaving the stage unfulfilled if he didn’t address it in some way.

“Uh … I … uh …” he said hesitantly into the microphone. “I’d like to dedicate the next song to a very special person. He always believed in us. And even now …” Tristan swallowed and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Milo. ‘Transient’ is for you.”

Tristan grabbed the guitar and began to play. Every word that came out of his mouth honored Milo in its own way. It was also a farewell of sorts, acknowledging that Milo would never again wave to him from the bar. Slowly, they intensified the song and built tension. During the solo, Tristan glanced at José. He always watched José for the cue to return after the break. As José grinned, he played a fill, and then they all joined in again to finish the song together.

Tristan needed a moment to collect himself. The spotlights were directed at the audience, and the Whisky was brightly lit, so he still faced away from it. To prevent himself from being overwhelmed by grief, he listened to Leaf’s distorted guitar notes echoing lonely in the hall, disappearing into the roar of applause.

Suddenly, a loud crack pierced through the sounds, followed by a burst of feedback. But it wasn’t the controlled feedback Leaf occasionally incorporated into his solos. Alarmed, Tristan spun around. Before he knew it, the guitar hit the ground and Leaf leaped off the stage with a dive—not high enough to be caught, a stunt he had never attempted before anyway. He drove straight onto a man in the audience, seizing him by the neck and dragging him to the ground. José and Andrej abruptly halted their playing. Confused, Tristan glanced at José, but he just shrugged behind the drum kit.

Enraged, Leaf punched Diego in the face. He gripped him by the collar, pressed a knee into his chest, and struck again. With each blow, he felt the impact against teeth, jaw, or cheekbone against his knuckles. But he couldn’t seem to stop. Anger blinded him.

Only vaguely did he notice the audience around him backing away. It didn’t take long before someone tried to haul him away from Diego, but Leaf repeatedly shook off their hands. Eventually, someone grabbed him from behind around the waist and pulled him away.

“Leaf! What the hell …?”

It was Andrej who pushed him back toward the stage, but Leaf lunged forward again and shoved Andrej aside.

Spitting blood, Diego propped himself up on one elbow and tried to orient himself, but Leaf delivered another furious blow with his fist. The pent-up rage overflowed.

“You murderer!” he growled, now out of breath.

“I didn’t pull the trigger!” Diego retorted.

“No! But you made sure others did!”

Leaf felt a blow to his side.

“Get off me, you damn psycho!” Diego yelled and pushed him away. “Did you even put me on the guest list for this?”

Leaf had forgotten that Diego’s name was on the list. But when he recognized the Mexican’s face in the audience, everything came flooding back—his plan and what he had to do to give Diego the punishment he deserved. When Diego’s right hook struck him on the chin, Leaf’s head snapped back, and he stumbled to the ground, knowing his mission was complete. Diego’s fury had been ignited.