THE BOUND & BELLICOSE TOUR HAS BEEN POSTPONED
Sources report difficulties among the band. There are also rumors circulating that Bound’s newest guitarist, Braxton Fawn, is dating not one but all three of the band’s original members. Could this be the end of Bound?
I clicked out of the article and hit the ignore button as soon as Xavier started calling me. I’m sure he wanted to see where my head was, but there was nothing he could do about the answer. Climbing out of my truck, I stared up at the country château that had taken me an hour of driving and pondering to reach.
I still didn’t know what I was going to say.
Loren had made us buy and restore that monstrosity in the woods so that he could tell his father that his was bigger.
I hope he got the chance because I wasn’t leaving here without him.
It had been three goddamn weeks.
I thought the last six years had been rough, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of actually being without your best friends and losing your girl all in one week.
Braxton had shut down, Loren had run back to Portland, and Rich…he was a fucking ghost. He wasn’t eating, he wasn’t sleeping, and he had an episode whenever he did. None of that was what concerned me the most.
Jericho hasn’t spoken a single word in twenty-three days.
My fear had reached the point of being irrational. I was afraid he’d forgotten how. I was terrified he’d lost his will—for anything. I was watching our best friend waste away so, yeah. I’d hogtie Loren and drag his ass back if he forced me to.
No, you won’t.
Loren’s claim that I was no better than his father was a blow I hadn’t been expecting. I still hadn’t recovered. This insatiable need to control my universe and everyone in it was rooted deep.
All I had left of the source was a newspaper clipping and my grandmother’s memories of Susan and Jake Morrow. I’d been left behind to survive on my own in a world too cruel and chaotic to endure. I’d spent the last fifteen years since their deaths trying not to repeat the cycle, so whenever my world began to spiral, I grabbed the reins, and I held on tight. I never paid attention to who I was hurting or stifling. I only cared about my survival.
But what if I had looked beyond myself just once?
Would Rich have trusted me when I warned him not to marry Emily? Would I have convinced my friends to take Savant’s deal? Would Loren have pushed aside his pride and come to me rather than ruining our best friend’s marriage?
If I hadn’t indirectly caused all of the above because of my obsession with control, would Calvin have been able to turn them against me? Besides fucking Emily, all Everill had done was force to light resentment already brewing in the dark. Tearing Loren, Rich, and I apart was how he’d punished us for keeping him out.
Our past was four runaway trains heading to four destinations, only to crash and burn at one intersection.
As much as I was struggling with our turbulent present, my persistent thoughts wouldn’t allow me to push away the most important question of all. If our past had played out differently, would we have ever met Braxton?
I hated that the answer wouldn’t allow me to regret my actions fully. I wasn’t convinced the universe I fought so hard to rule would have found another way to place her in our path.
The love of our life would have slipped us by, and that would have been my fault too.
Fuck.
Ringing the front doorbell, I crossed my arms as I leaned against the pillar and waited. Here’s to hoping Loren still cared enough to come back on his own.
I didn’t have to wait long since Orson James insisted on round-the-clock staff. Loren, Rich, and I hired a cleaning service twice a week and someone to handle the landscaping, but other than that, we fended for ourselves.
Out there in the woods, we were able to pretend that we’d carved out a world only the three of us inhabited.
Braxton, when we got her back, would know what that felt like too.
“What do you want?” Loren asked.
He’d taken me by surprise answering the door himself, but it was the beard adorning the lower half of his face and the blond hair covering his forehead and eyes, making him look like a wet dog, that caught me off guard. He wore stained gray sweatpants, a white T-shirt, one sock, and smelled like he hadn’t showered in three or four days.
“Loren?”
He didn’t bother answering my stupid question. He turned around and shuffled away, leaving the door open, so I followed him inside. The house was mostly quiet since it was mid-morning on a Monday. I was sure Orson was busy running the empire he’d lorded over his son for years. It just showed how little he knew him.
Loren belonged on a stage, not inside a boardroom.
He sure as fuck didn’t care about metal fabrication or whatever made his father rich enough to believe his ambitions mattered more than his son’s.
“Why are you here?” Loren muttered when I followed him into his childhood bedroom. Unlike my grandmother, his parents hadn’t left it alone. They’d converted it into a guest room, completely wiping away everything that helped shape Loren into the man he was today. It was only unusual or unnecessary when you had nine other available bedrooms for guests.
He took a seat on the foot of the queen bed before planting his back on the mattress and closing his eyes.
“You know why,” I said as I watched him from the doorway. “Come home.”
“I am home.”
It took everything I hoped to be one day not to storm across the room and wring his goddamn neck.
He didn’t get to say that shit to me.
When Loren’s father threw him out for finally getting his mother to leave him, he had no one else but us. We were his family, and it had been that way ever since. Loren thought it had all been in vain when his mother crawled back like a thoroughly whipped dog, but it hadn’t. We made sure of it.
I then took that shitty deal with Savant and convinced my friends to do the same.
I couldn’t let Loren back under his father’s thumb. He’d been close to giving in and ready to accept whatever scraps his father threw for a price much too high when that deal came to the table.
But Savant had only wanted me.
Loren and Jericho had been optional, but I insisted, begged, giving Carl Cole the leverage he needed to fuck us. I’d told myself I was helping my best friends. Loren could support himself and Rich would avoid prison. After a while, I couldn’t live with that lie anymore.
Some days I felt guilty, others I didn’t.
Loren knew, and that was why he hated me. It wasn’t because I liked taking charge. Frankly, Loren was too lazy for the role. It was because I succeeded where his father had failed. I forced a life on him rather than let him make his own choices. He trusted me, and I used him to feed my addiction.
“You know as well as I do that isn’t true.”
He didn’t respond, but I knew he was listening.
Swallowing my pride, I finally let free the words I should have spoken a long time ago but hadn’t. I’d never been afraid that I might actually lose him before. “I’m sorry, Lo.” It seemed like I waited an eternity before his eyes slowly opened, and his black gaze met mine. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust in me, I’m sorry for not letting you choose your own path, I’m sorry for making you think we didn’t need you, and I’m sorry for not being sorry sooner.”
He made me wait.
Loren made the silence stretch as long as he possibly could before he simply said, “Thanks.” I was pretty sure my gut couldn’t hold any more dread. Clasping his hands underneath his head, Loren closed his eyes again. “You can go now.”
I narrowed my gaze on him as if he could see the warning in them. “Don’t test me, Lo.”
“Or what?”
I casually crossed the room without saying a word. When I reached him, I gripped his collar in my fists and yanked him from the bed until there was no space left between us. He let me. “Or I do everyone a favor, and I make you a bottom.”
Loren needed some humility, and one of these days, he was going to push me into giving him some. He made me see the difference between a leader and a dictator, and while I was determined to temper those urges, I would always run this shit. If Loren forced me to make that an undisputed fact, so be it.
We stared at one another for a long while before he swallowed and tried to push me away. I tightened my grip.
“You stink,” I informed him. My eyes were starting to water being this close.
He looked away and mumbled, “Back the hell off me then.”
Rather than do so, I pushed him toward the en suite until he stumbled inside. “Shower, shave, and get dressed. We have somewhere to be.”
“Such as?”
“Braxton’s hearing,” I informed him, getting back to business. “It’s today.”
Loren stared at nothing as his mind worked, and he overthought what really should have been crystal clear. “What makes you think she wants us there?”
“Whether she does or not, we will be. We’re not letting her do that alone.”
I sighed my relief when he didn’t argue. While Loren showered, I went downstairs to wait to give him some privacy and figure out my next move. I was so deep in my thoughts as I descended the stairs that I didn’t notice the ambush I was walking into until it was too late.
A spitting image of my best friend, though his hair had long turned gray and thinned, Loren’s father waited at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t flinch as I held the cold and cunning gaze of Orson James. Loren might have thought he hated me, but true hatred was found in his father’s eyes. Loren looked to me, he’d given me the respect Orson desired but never bothered to earn, and sometimes Loren even obeyed. For those reasons, Orson James despised me.
“Orson,” I forced myself to greet.
Laine Morrow wouldn’t care how much contempt I held for the man. My grandmother wouldn’t approve of me not showing anyone the proper respect in their own dwelling.
“Get out of my house, Morrow.”
“Gladly, but I’ll be taking your son with me.” My manners only went so far. Fuck him.
“Loren’s place is here. He knows that now. That’s why he’s come home.”
My skin crawled hearing the way he talked about Loren, but I forced myself to push past it and keep my composure. “Funny. You didn’t seem to think so when you literally threw him out in the rain and the street like a dog.”
“He was a man. It was time he acted like one.”
“Finally, we can agree, but don’t think for one second you had anything to do with Loren standing on his own. He didn’t do it for you.”
“I suppose I have you to thank?” Orson taunted as he straightened the cuff on his blue suit. Someone must have alerted him of my presence if he was here instead of at the office. “Fine. Thank you. Now you and that sad, little black-haired shit can watch me reap the rewards.”
“That will never happen, but if somehow, I died and let you have him, you’d have Loren to thank, not me.” I shoved past him, clipping his shoulder before striding out the door.
An hour had passed when I heard shouting. I was out of my truck and ready to storm back inside when Loren came waltzing out of the door with a sinister smile and looking like himself again. His hair was slicked back, and he wore fitted navy blue pants that hung off his hips and a matching short-sleeve button-up that he’d left undone. The only noticeable difference was the medallion he no longer wore.
My heart was still pounding, however, until I saw the bag with all his shit packed inside and hanging from his shoulder.
Reaching the truck, he climbed inside, and so did I. I could smell the fresh mint from the gum he was chewing and the bergamot in his cologne as he slumped in his seat and got comfortable.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Lo mumbled without looking at me. He was busy staring through the windshield at his father, who was standing on his massive front porch, fuming and holding Loren’s medallion, which hung from his fingers.
Wasting no time, I hit the gas.
I then flipped off Orson James through my lowered window when I sped off with his only son riding shotgun.
I ignored my exhaustion after flying round-trip from Los Angles to Portland in one day as I climbed from the back of the town car Dani had arranged to pick us up. Together, Loren and I walked into the building that held Savant Records, with two of our private security trailing us. Our strides never broke with the knowledge that our girl was thirty floors up fighting Carl’s lawyers alone.
That was until we got through the building’s security and reached the bank of elevators.
Loren, spotting Rich waiting, stopped in his tracks. “I want to make something clear,” he said to me, jaw tight as he glared ahead at Rich, who watched him too but with bleakness in his gaze, “this doesn’t change anything. I’m here for Braxton, and that’s it. I’m done.”
Yeah, we’ll see about that.
“You really want to argue about this right now?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m telling you.”
“Let’s go,” I said dismissively. Loren wasn’t leaving shit, and it wasn’t because I’d make him stay. He couldn’t walk away any more than the rest of us. “We’re already late.”
Rich pushed away from the wall he was leaning against as we approached. For the first time in three weeks, he looked tempted to speak, but then Loren shoved the words back down his throat before he could utter them.
“Save it,” he snapped at the drummer. He then walked onto the empty elevator, leaving us no choice but to follow before the doors could close.
The entire way up, Rich stared at Loren from under the cloak of his hood while the bassist stared at the metal doors with no expression and pretended he didn’t notice. The tension was stifling, and when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, I hurried off before either of them.
We ignored the receptionist when we entered the office suite, and she yelled at our backs that Carl wasn’t expecting us.
No fucking shit.
He’d purposely left us out of this meeting.
Everyone in our path parted like the Red Sea when we stormed the hall. It wasn’t until we reached our destination and pushed inside the room, uninvited, that the feeling I’d been here before hit me.
Most of the seats at the long table were filled by suited men and women, including Oni Sridhar, and the man I assumed was the arbitrator. He stopped speaking mid-sentence when we entered.
All eyes were on us, but our eyes were for her.
She was seated at the head of the table, furthest away from the door. The exact spot I’d been standing when I saw her for the first time eight months ago when she burst into this very conference room and interrupted the meeting taking place then too. Even though she was dressed differently, and I knew better now, Braxton still looked as innocent today as she did then.
It was those big, brown eyes, light freckles, and her full mouth that never ceased to make a fool out of me. The only clue of the fire burning underneath was her red hair pinned up to show off her neck.
She was a living flame.
Our eyes met, yet she gave no reaction to us showing up. After what we’d done, just acknowledging our presence even briefly was more than we deserved.
I could only see her top half, but I recognized that sheer, black dress with crystal print and holographic detail. I knew the hem reached her calves. I knew there was a high slit showing off her left leg. I even recognized the black bra she wore underneath and knew she’d paired it with her favorite black boots. I couldn’t see her hands, but I knew she wore her rings. Braxton was part goth, part punk, and part boho. She didn’t want anyone figuring her out.
On opposite sides of her sat Xavier and her lawyer, who looked way too unsure of himself for my liking. We’d sent someone who stood a chance, of course, but Braxton had refused to accept our help. I was willing to bet she’d ate into most of the paltry advance Savant had given her to hire this amateur and all to prove a point.
At least she hadn’t turned away Xavier, not that he would have listened.
Heading in Braxton’s direction, I shook his hand as we passed, and then we commandeered the wall behind Braxton before anyone thought to protest.
“What are you three doing here?” Carl spat from the other end of the table. “I made it clear I’d deal with you later.”
Loren snorted and smiled. “Hilarious. I’ve been utterly bored these last few weeks. Why don’t you deal with us now?”
Rather than get upset, Carl returned his smile as he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the arms. His gaze shifted to each of us before he spoke. “I thought you’d be smarter, knowing what happens to you, yet you’re trying to help her anyway.” Shrugging, he looked down at the papers in front of him as he shuffled them around. “I guess the rumors are true.”
He looked up then to wink at Braxton, and I slammed my arm across Loren’s chest to keep him in place before he could even finish stepping forward.
Fucking up Carl would only make things worse for Braxton.
I didn’t remove my arm even after Loren relaxed. A calm Loren was just as unpredictable as a homicidal Loren. I glanced at Rich standing on my other side to gauge where his head was and if he’d force me to restrain him too.
He was staring at Braxton like he was stuck in time.
She pretended we weren’t even here.
I was pretty certain Jericho hadn’t heard a single word spoken since we stepped inside the room, but I could see the wheels in his mind turning. I could see him searching for the right words to say to her. Even if he found them, this was so not the time.
“Not now,” I whispered to him. Rich gave no indication that he heard me. Not one.
“What happens to them?” Braxton inquired, drawing my attention from my drummer and Carl’s focus back to her.
I heard Rich’s subtle but sharp inhale at the sound of her voice and even felt Loren’s heart lurch through his chest and underneath my arm. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out a way to steer Braxton off this course. I’d given Xavier specific instructions, though he hadn’t agreed, not to tell her a goddamn thing.
She was always meant to find freedom in darkness.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Carl answered her dismissively. To us, he said, “You see, there was no need for the three of you to ride in on your white steeds. I’m fully prepared to let Braxton out of her contract today. Everyone wins.”
And by everyone, he means Braxton and him.
There would be no salvation for us today.
Carl Cole would get what he wanted, and we helped it come to fruition. I should have been angry, but all I felt was relief. I—
“What. Happens. To. Them?” Braxton demanded.
Her forceful tone had yanked me from my thoughts, startling everyone in the room, including Carl. I could feel Xavier’s stare. I could hear him silently begging me to tell her.
I ignored him.
It wasn’t Braxton’s problem. She shouldn’t have to pay for our mistakes when she was already hurting from our lies.
Frustrated by Cole’s silence, she turned around in her seat to face us.
Just like that, I was catapulted back into her orbit.
I was home.
Braxton’s gaze was stern as she waited for one of us to crack and answer her burning question. “Tell me,” she demanded when our lips refused to move. That desperate note almost broke me, but I held. We all did.
It didn’t matter in the end.
No one, least of all Bound, was prepared for Oni Sridhar to break the weighted silence.
“In exchange for our complete financial support, Savant Records has a vested interest in all streams of revenue earned by Bound, including profits that would normally be denied to us under a traditional deal.” She paused when Braxton turned to face her, tempting me to wipe that patronizing smile from her face. “If they so much as sell a pencil with their name on it, dear, we get sixty percent of the profit. That’s across the board.”
Oni glanced our way, and for the first time, I swore I actually glimpsed guilt in her eyes. I didn’t care, though, not when she continued speaking, thwarting our attempt to protect Braxton from the guilt I knew she’d feel when Oni was done.
If Braxton stayed, I needed it to be because she wanted to.
It was her love I was after, not her pity.
“Their contract,” Oni continued, “which we locked them in for six years, stipulates that should all monies spent not be recouped, the binding agreement extends until we do. As you’re probably aware, Bound’s tours gross nine-figure revenues, but to make money, you must first spend it. I assume you can imagine how much this label has already expensed for Bound & Bellicose, a tour that is on the verge of not being completed. Because of you. Tickets will have to be refunded, of course. Unfortunately, the venues, production companies, promoters, etcetera will all still expect to be paid. Your bandmates could simply reimburse the label. However, their lawyers have recently and successfully negotiated the purchase of their masters to include every song recorded during their contract with us.”
Oni paused to lean forward, refusing to allow Braxton any give as their gazes remained locked several seats apart. If I didn’t hate her before, I certainly did now, especially when she delivered the final nail in Braxton’s coffin.
“It bankrupted them.” Oni leaned back in her seat, playing the role of a viper to get her point across when she smiled and shrugged. “Since we no longer own the rights to their recorded songs, their only option will be to stay and make us more.”
Oni’s lips parted like she was ready to say more when Rich suddenly stepped forward and spoke.
“Shut up.”
They were his first words in three weeks.
His voice was low and cracked from going so long without it, but it didn’t matter because, right now…he commanded the room. He made everyone listen, including Braxton, who was staring at him now.
There was concern, confusion, and sadness in her brown eyes, but his silver gaze was directed at Oni, so he didn’t notice. Even if he had, he wouldn’t do anything about it. Not while he was a storm ready to crack open the sky.
“Say another word,” he warned, “and I will end you, Sridhar.”
I glanced at Loren, who noticed and shook his head before his eyes closed even as pride filled them. We both knew it was too late. We knew the kind of woman we fell in love with. She was the kind who took on callous rock stars, public scrutiny, and an unscrupulous label.
All to send a message.
All to inspire.
All to protect one girl’s future and save her from a dire fate.
Braxton believed she’d failed her baby sister. She wouldn’t allow herself to fail us too. She was bold enough to think she could take on that burden and still keep us from reclaiming her heart.
“Then I’ll do it,” she said with an unbreakable finality that made my head fall in defeat. I knew the decision coming, but it still hurt the same. “I’ll finish the goddamn tour.”
