Page 17 of Líadan's Code

Five months later

“What are we going to do?” Allen asks, looking out at us.

Lyrica overdosed a few hours ago, and it’s four in the morning here in Los Angeles.

“We’re damage control,” I remind him. “We figure it out. Lyrica is in the hospital, getting the best care possible. We push her into rehab, because she has no other choice.”

My phone notifications blow up, making me frown. The dings are loud, and I only have it set for the bands I manage to go off when their names are mentioned.

It’s fucking early, what the hell is happening?

“You should check that,” Allen says with a smirk. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about, it looks like we have more shit coming our way.”

“I’d say I’m sure it’s not that bad, but I don’t have a great feeling about this,” I mutter.

Pulling out my phone, I see photos from various paparazzi photographers of Karina, Marin, and Zeke at a club looking higher than kites. Frowning, I scroll for more information because they’re supposed to be on tour with my niece, Layla.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan. I thought they were my least likely group to pull something like this, the band’s chemistry is amazing musically on stage, and Layla’s never said anything about drug use.

Is she keeping shit to herself?

My niece has a tendency of not wanting to rock the boat. She’ll walk across eggshells in an effort to keep everyone happy. I fucking hate her father for making her think that’s necessary.

James is a dickhead, and also taking an extended stay in a mental institution. My brother isn’t well, which makes me even more protective of Layla.

“We have an issue with Layla’s band,” I tell the group. “They’re partying pretty hard, which usually wouldn’t be an issue because rockstars are known for this, but they agreed not to do that shit around her.”

“She was affected pretty badly when Roark overdosed a few years ago,” Allen murmurs, leaning forward. “We need to figure out how bad it is and then force them to quit.”

“If they quit, who will step in when she goes on tour in a few weeks?” Laurence asks. “I thought they agreed to no drugs on the tour?”

“Me fucking too,” I sigh. “It’s not the first nor last time someone will lie to me. I’m going to wake up Karina and see if I can figure out what the fuck is happening.”

Calling the drummer, I listen as the line goes to voicemail, and then call again. On the fourth try, I disguise the number so she won’t know it’s me, my lips twisting in annoyance.

“She’s in fucking trouble now,” Laurence grunts. My patience is beyond gone by this point.

“What? I’m fucking sleeping,” Karina whines as she answers.

Putting her on speaker, I carefully place the phone on the table. The last thing I need is to have to replace it because I threw it across the room.

“Good morning, Karina. It sounds like you had a long night?” I ask, my tone dangerously calm.

Allen smirks, knowing I’m about to hand her ass to her.

“Mr. Miles?” Karina asks with a gasp. “I, ah, I’ve been on the bus all night, Sir. I was practicing with Layla in fact.”

I really hate to be lied to.

“Karina, I was not born yesterday, nor do I believe a word coming out of your mouth. There is a clause in your contract that discusses excessive partying and drugs, does it not?” I ask her.

Layla doesn’t know about this. It may be overprotective on my part since she’s turning twenty-five soon, but I can’t help it.

“Mr. Miles?—”

“Karina, several photographers have photos uploaded of your night,” I interrupt her sharply. “Please don’t lie to me. It won’t serve either of us, and it’ll royally piss me off. What the fuck is going on?”

“The royal princess is the issue!” Karina complains. “She’s impossible, incredibly difficult to deal with, and always has a stick up her ass. Her boyfriend is always on tour with us, growling when we speak to her. She’s no fun!”

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