Page 91 of Pack Fever

“Come, I want to show you something.” Seizing the moment, I take her hand and lead her out of the room, my mind still replaying the enchanting sound of her voice, knowing that this is just the beginning of a whole new melody between us.

The buzz from the crowd seeps through the walls of the stadium, a constant reminder of the chaos just a stone’s throw away. I’ve got Danica by my side, guiding her through the backstage maze.

“So, where are we going?” she asks, glancing over at me with curiosity. “Are Reed and Jasper joining us?”

“Nope, it’s just us two,” I answer. “And you’ll see soon enough.”

She gives me that side-eye glance that’s adorable.

“I’m not telling you until we arrive there,” I tease and hurry my steps, her keeping up. I want to take her hand in mine, but when we’re out in the open, I can’t risk the chance of anything leaking out about me having a relationship with Danica and having it go back to Wing Music.

We reach the back doors, and the two guards open the door for us.

“It’s wild out there,” one of the men says to me.

On cue, as the door swings open, the roar of screaming fans pierces the air. It’s late afternoon, and many look ready to camp here until our concerts kick-off. But today, it’s not about the band, the music, or the fame. It’s about getting Danica to the surprise I’ve been itching to show her.

She’s got her oversized hoodie pulled tight around her, shadowing her face to dodge any paparazzi and images of her getting back to the like of Nexus. So, we’re playing it cool, blending into the background as much as a rock star and his girl can.

The noise hits us like a wave. There’s a moment when Danica freezes. I feel it in her posture, this tension, because out there, it’s my world, but it’s not exactly familiar territory for her. Fans are packed tight, held back by a thin rope, their cheers cranking up a notch when they spot me. Can’t help but throw them a wave; these folks are the reason I’m here, after all. Cameras flash, the crowd’s getting wilder, and guards are holding them back, but my mind’s on Danica, making sure she’s okay with this whole circus.

“Let’s make a run for it,” I whisper in her direction, nodding toward my sleek black sports car parked at the end of the driveway. The fans are feet beyond that. We run, Danica keeping her head down.

I round the car to reach the driver’s side, coming closer to my chanting fans, who are going wild, jumping up and down. I turn to them with a grin, shouting over the noise, “You rock my world every single night! Stay wild and keep the fever burning.”

Then I dive into the driver’s seat while they go mental, calling my name and for me to stay with them. Once upon a time, I might have, and I’ve lost track of how many girls I’ve taken back to my room. But I have no desire for that… my sights are set on Danica.

Once we’re in the car, the roar of the crowd dims, replaced by the hum of the engine. Danica’s still under that hoodie but safe now, away from prying eyes. We’re in our own little space, the world outside tinted by the car’s dark windows.

I shoot her a look, trying to read how she’s holding up with all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. “You good?” I ask, keeping it light. Tonight’s about more than dodging Nexus or shaking off fans. It’s about showing Danica that, despite the chaos, she’s my focus.

The city blurs past us, lights and shadows, as I navigate the streets. Danica, in a fluid motion, pushes her hoodie back, revealing her face in the soft glow of the dashboard. She turns to me, curiosity lighting up her eyes.

“So, you want me all to yourself?” she teases.

I love that she’s in a flirty mood. Ever since the incident back home when I found her in the bathroom cutting herself, she’s calmed down. There’s an unspoken connection between us, and I can tell she trusts me more now.

“You bet,” I reply, the smirk on my face feeling as natural as the bass line in my favorite track. My hand finds its way to her knee, a gentle squeeze to affirm my words. I realize how much she’s changed the game for me. It’s like I’ve been living in a constant loop of gigs, fans, and after-parties, then getting blind-fucking drunk. But Danica... she’s this melody I never knew I was missing. And damn, it’s not just about wanting her close; it’s this deep-seated need to make her mine.

“Looks like you’re doing some heavy thinking there,” she teases.

“Just pondering life,” I say.

“Wow, that’s huge.” Her laughter mingles with the night air.

“Yep,” I smirk, taking a sharp turn, and her gaze follows the movement until the sight of the airport comes into view.

She stiffens. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“We’re going on a small flight. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” I ask, trying to gauge her reaction.

She blinks, first at me, then at the looming airport, then shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never flown before...”

“Good, then I’ve got you,” I assure her. “I promise you’ll be fine.”

She remains quiet, and it worries me that I’ve pushed her too far. We drive toward a more secluded part of the airport, the private area coming into view. The location is surprisingly serene, the usual airport hustle replaced by a tranquil exclusivity. The tarmac stretches out, bathed in the soft glow of the runway lights.

I park the car and quickly move to open her door.

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