Page 83 of Rebel

I would have done the same thing.

I’ve never hated a person the way I hate Kolton’s sister, he never told us what happened but enough to deeply despise her, so I understand why Beck did what she did.

“It’s okay. We can help her now, okay?” Chase tells him, and he takes his phone and leaves the room. We all have missed calls from friends, news outlets, and management. By now, the photos and videos have done the rounds. She’s ruined, but I don’t care.

I don’t care about the band or our reputation. All I care about is Beck.

We put a plan in place. Management is behind it because they want damage control. They originally wanted to cut ties, but we wouldn’t let them. We warned them that if they tried, then we’d walk too. We were lucky because they seem to like us and didn’t wipe their hands clean of us, but the hype for the upcoming tour is too much.

If they can rectify it, then they will.

There is nothing money can’t fix, and we throw it at the problem, calling in every connection and favor we have.

I’m aware each passing minute is another she is behind bars, but we have to do this right. We have to clear her name and get her free, but more than that, we need to change public opinion. We need them on our side. We need them rallying for her and her actions.

It was Kolton’s idea, but as I watch him take the stage before the gathered press, I worry it’s too soon and too much. He is determined, though, so we sit at his side, unwilling to leave him alone, and take his hands as he prepares to go to war and rip himself open for his girl.

For our Beck.

“I won’t be taking any questions, so please listen,” he begins. “This is not something I have ever discussed. I have a lot of demons, and they all stem from my childhood. I have not dealt with that trauma, and I am aware of that, but today, I will show you my demons so you will understand the truth of what happened yesterday in regard to Beck Danvers.”

We blink under the onslaught of pictures, and his hands tighten on ours.

He’s pale and shaky, but he sits tall, and I’m so fucking proud of him.

“The woman Beck attacked yesterday is my sister.” He briefly lets that sink in. “And she only did it after being provoked and we were stalked. She did it to protect me. I’ve been asked about my family many times, but I changed my last name, and I never discussed what happened, mostly out of shame—shame that has followed me since I was a kid. Beck has been holding my hand and helping me shed the shame, as well as helping me realize that what happened to me was not my fault. It isn’t shameful. It’s horrible, it is tragic, and in no way was it my fault. I will be honest. This isn’t easy to discuss. I have only ever told one person, and I probably wouldn’t have told anyone else—not out of shame, but out of privacy—but I don’t like the narrative that’s being spread about Beck, so to clear the air, I will tell the truth.” He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I worry he can’t do this.

I won’t hold it against him, there are other ways, but he surges forward, refusing to let her face the consequences of protecting him.

“When I was very young, my sister started to sexually abuse me. It didn’t end as I grew up. Instead, her friends joined in. I was abused for nearly all of my childhood by not only my sister, but her friends as well. It left me with physical and emotional scars, and when I was old enough, I ran away. My parents never did anything to stop it, nor did they care.” He swallows hard, clutching our hands. “Beck knew this. I cried to her about my nightmares one night, about my inability to be with another being. I’m sure there are rumors that I am a cold bastard, but the opposite is true. I can’t stand to have a female touch me after what they did to my body. Beck knew this, and since she entered my life, I have been exploring this, and I have been healing. I’ve had no contact with my family at all—not until my sister followed me and Beck to dinner. When I saw her and she introduced herself, Beck tried to remove me from the situation because I was in shock and struggling. She tried to leave, but my sister wouldn’t let her. Worse yet, my sister very loudly discussed . . . raping me, and Beck snapped. I’m not saying what Beck did was right, violence is never the answer, but Beck was protecting me, her friend, her bandmate . . . her boyfriend.” The news goes crazy. “My sister is a perverted, sick individual who finally got what her actions deserve. Beck is not one to back down, and neither is my sister. Beck did what she thought was right to keep me safe and protected. I will stand with her until the end, as will Chase and Trav, but don’t just take my word for it.”

We turn as the videos play from all angles. Bystanders had been recording before the incident, and it shows Beck and Kolton trying to leave, only for his sister to stop them. Her words are audible, and the crowd gasps. We cut it after that, and I lean into the mic.

“Kolton is very hurt by what happened, and the one person he needs most is behind bars for protecting him while his sister, a sexual predator, is being made into a victim. As a band, we stand with Beck. I’m sure if you were in her shoes and it were your friend, your brother, or your boyfriend . . . you would have done the same.

“We will be fighting these charges in full, and we hope our fans understand and give both Beck and Kolton the time and privacy they need to heal from this. Kolton will not speak on this again. It’s his right to heal as he sees fit. Thank you, and please stand with us in pointing out the true instigator in this case—the one in the hospital, surrounded by cameras, who is already live-streaming what happened and talking about money—not the one behind bars, who’s staying silent, even in her own defense, to protect the ones she cares for.”

“Thank you.” Kolton stands, as do we, his hands in ours as the cameras go wild.

Our first part of the plan is done, and as we walk off stage, we know we got the reaction we wanted.

Beck is a hero.

THIRTY-NINE

It should alarm me that I’m more worried about Kolton than I am about myself. I’m facing assault charges, not to mention being locked up. My true name could be revealed, though the officers swear my privacy will be protected, but if the guys find out, then they will know exactly who I am. Everything I have worked for, my revenge, the truth, and this life will all be for nothing.

Yet I’m worried about Kolton.

I refuse to consider why, so instead, I pace, and when that gets boring, I force myself to relax on the bench, waiting to hear what will happen to me. Hopefully, I’ll get a phone call and I can check in with the guys to make sure they got Kolton home safely. This will undoubtedly bring up a lot of memories and trauma for him, so he’ll need them now more than ever to process it, but Kolton is stronger than anyone I know. He will survive this.

It’s what consumes my thoughts—the image of his stricken, dead expression as he gazed at his abuser. He wasn’t the man I . . . Well, he wasn’t Kolt. He was a little boy facing his nightmares and realizing the monster in the dark was real. In that moment, I would have done anything to bring life back to his expression and make him feel safe and protected.

Kolton might be a rock star, one of the most renowned music gods in our history, but he’s still a man, and Kolt feels more than most, especially now.

As for his sister? Well, I hope she chokes on her own blood and dies.

It would up my charges to murder, but I think I could rock the orange jumpsuit.

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