Page 113 of Requiem
I notice the guitar waiting for me, all black with gold accents. I sigh, hating the fact that my heart is pounding and that my chest is tingling. I can’t lose myself.
Stay here.
Stay withher.
The words reverberate through my head as I shift the guitar higher against my chest, my fingers curling around the neck. For one second, I juststand there beneath the heat of the stage lights, staring out at a room full of silk and diamonds, and I swear I can feel Alexei watching me breathe.
Then I lean toward the microphone, and my fingers drag across the strings. The first chord rolls through the room, vibrating straight through my ribs, and when I open my mouth, my voice comes out darker than ever. It’s scarred and painfully human, brought to fruition from years of fucking abuse and suicidal thoughts.
“Love me like a loaded gun…
Hold me like a blade against your throat…”
My fingers move automatically over the guitar, muscle memory carrying me through the progression. This song was never supposed to leave my notebooks. I wrote it during nights when I couldn’t sleep without seeing blood behind my eyes. I worked on it in hotel bathrooms, tour buses, and dressing rooms with my head in my hands while everyone outside screamed my fucking name.
My gaze drifts toward Emma again as I sing the next line.
“You built a cathedral from my ruin…
Then taught me how to beg on my knees…”
Her eyes soften instantly, and something in my chest loosens at the sight of it. The anxiety in her posture is still there, buried beneath that calm therapist composure she wears so well, but I can see the belief underneath it.
She believes I can do this. She’salwaysbelieved in me.
The realization slams into me as my fingers move faster over the strings, the rasp in my voice turning rawer. The sound pouring from me no longer feels rehearsed. It feels like I’ve been ripped the fuck open. And somewhere between one lyric and the next, I stop performing for Alexei. I start singingagainsthim. The shift is subtle at first, but within a few seconds, the energy in the room shifts.
Is it because of the words or the way I’m singing them, I wonder?
Conversations die, smirks fade. People stop watching me like entertainment and start watching me like they’re trying to understand what the fuck is happening in front of them.
Because this isn’t surrender. This is a goddamn warning wrapped in music.
My eyes flick toward Alexei without meaning to.
Instant regret.
The moment I see him sitting there with that amused expression, Vlad beside him and Erik staring at me, a vicious monster claws up the inside of my spine so fast it almost drops me to my knees. My breath catches halfway through the verse as I begin to lose myself. It’s like cold water flooding my lungs.
Obey. Perform. Kill.
The words slide through my skull in his voice, and my hand nearly misses the next chord.
Fuck.
The guitar trembles against my body as panic tries to climb its way into my chest, and for one horrible second, I feel myself slipping backward into that chair again. Back into the basement. Back into the version of me that existed only to survive whatever they fuckingdidto me.
Then I find Emma.
Her steady eyes lock onto mine instantly, and I cling to that connection. I focus on her face and the softness of her lips. The memory of her fingers tangled through mine while snow drifted around us on the back porch at the cabin. And the way I made love to her after, telling her how much I fucking love her.Needher. Her face was once pain, and now it’s peace. I stare into those honey brown eyes and feel everything lock back into place.
Reality steadies, and my breathing evens out. And when my fingers strike the next chord, it rings louder and stronger than before. I close my eyes for a heartbeat before singing the final verse directly into the silence hanging over the room.
“You can carve your name into my bones…
But they were never yours to keep.
And I would rather die a thousand deaths
