Page 50 of Corrupted Tyrant

After I fill him in and realize every time I tell someone I’m feeling strong and confident, I’m filled with a sense of calm, Maury starts joking.

“You pay me the big bucks to manage you, yet you finagled your way onto front page news without me. I hope you’re not thinking of cutting me out of my ten percent.”

“Fury and Stealth managed to get that video out to the public. It would only be fair for you to cut them in on something—”

“Steak!” Fury gives a cartoonish lick of his lips. “Steak for all the Wolven Warriors back in the Zone.”

“Great idea.” Maury sounds buoyant. “Tell me, bubelah, what’s your next move?”

My mind whirs as I take a deep breath. “I want to finish the tour.” Conviction rings in my voice. “I want to get back on that stage and sing my heart out for every survivor, every warrior out there. I want to show them that we’re stronger than our abusers, that our voices matter.”

Courage squeezes my hand, his smile fierce and bright. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

Fury nods, something like respect flickering in his gaze. “In the meantime, the other Warriors and I will provide bodyguard services. Those KEN fuckers might be behind bars, but they’ve still got reach.”

I shiver at the thought but push it aside. I won’t let fear rule me, not anymore. “Thanks, Fury,” I say softly, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “For everything.”

He waves a dismissive hand, but I don’t miss the way his eyes soften, just for a moment. “Don’t mention it, kitten. We look after our own.”

“I’ve got twenty calls stacked, people wanting interviews. Yay or nay on that, Candy?”

“Yay, Maury. I’ve hidden long enough. Why don’t you coordinate it with my travel schedule?”

“On it. Gotta go.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Courage

The energy in the air is electric, the crowd a pulsing, shimmering sea of light and sound. I stand at the side of the stage, my heart full to bursting as I watch Candy command every eye, every ear with the sheer force of her presence, her radiant, unbreakable spirit.

She’s stunning, incandescent, a shooting star in a vast and endless sky. Her voice rings out, clear and powerful, every word, every note imbued with raw emotion, with hard-won truth and soul-deep healing.

It’s the last show of the tour, the culmination of this wild, wondrous, life-changing journey. And as I listen to her sing, watch the way she pours her whole heart into every moment, I’m struck once again by the immensity of my love for her.

She looks so different from when we met. That hard edge has smoothed, though she still has the pert mouth I fell in love with. I was stunned when she came out of the bathroom this morning with gorgeous sunshine-blonde hair.

“My natural color.” Her tone was bright, and she tossed her shining locks as though that was all she had to say. Perhaps my wide-eyed expression begged for more, so she added, “I think the trademark pink was just another façade, something to hide behind. This is one more way to tell myself and the world that the genuine Candy Wood is calling the shots.”

“You’re beautiful to me, no matter what. But I’m glad you like this new version of yourself, my love.”

This woman is my everything, my reason and my rhyme, my guiding star and my home. And I want nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops, to let the whole world know how proud I am to stand beside her, to call her mine.

I’ve been lost in thought and missed her last song. The audience is on their feet, whistling and shouting. It’s time for her encore. She usually sings “It’s All I Can Give”.

She puts her palms up. On her face is an impish grin as she silently asks the crowd to hush. Candy turns to me, her green eyes overflowing with profound, soul-deep affection. She beckons me forward, holding out a hand in invitation.

My heart stutters, my breath catching in my throat. We’ve talked about this moment, about what it would mean for me to step out of the shadows and into the light beside her. To unveil who we are to each other and who I am, to remove my hoodie in a big public venue and not just roadside diners. It was never the right time. Until recently, she said she wasn’t ready, though I thought I was.

But now that the moment’s here, a flicker of hesitation, of genuine fear jolts through me. Fear of the judgment, the scrutiny of the unavoidable otherness that marks me as different, as separate. I don’t want to taint everything she’s worked so hard for.

But then Candy smiles, her face filled with such love, such unwavering acceptance. My fear disappears like smoke in the wind.

I take a few steps toward her and she pulls me the rest of the way onto the stage. The crowd goes wild, a roar of surprise and delight rising to greet us. I keep my hood up, my tail tucked carefully away, a last-ditch effort at anonymity.

But Candy, my brave, beautiful Candy, reaches up and pushes back my hood, her fingers gentle against my fur. A gasp ripples through the audience as my ears, my fangs, my distinctly wolven features are revealed.

For a heartbeat, the audience seems to hold their breath. And then, to my utter shock, the cheers intensify, a swell of support and acceptance that makes my chest tight with emotion.

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