Page 12 of Poison's Promise

Sydney’s voice flows smoothly with the music, hypnotizing the audience.

She’s got them eating out of her hand. I can’t help but feel a swell of pride. She deserves every bit of this success.

“She’s killin’ it out there,” Dex whispers beside me, his eyes glued to the stage.

“Yeah, she is,” I reply, not taking my eyes off the crowd.

We get through the first song without a hitch.

The fans are wild but contained—for now.

“Thank you!” Sydney calls out, waving to the sea of people. The applause is deafening. “Now, I could sing another song, or I could tell you guys about the really special treat I have for you all tonight! Which one do you want?”

My attention sharpens. What’s she up to?

The crowd chants: surprise over and over again.

Sydney laughs, her smile contagious. “My label thought there was an artist who would sound amazing with me, someone you all undoubtedly know. Luckily for me, he happened to be in the area and agreed to stop by tonight.”

A murmur of excitement runs through the crowd.

“He’s one of the best rockstars around, Asher Gun!”

The name slams into me like a freight train.

My heart plummets, sinking into my stomach. It goes so fast I think it might actually pop right out of my asshole.

I barely have time to process before he steps out from the other side of backstage.

He’s exactly as I remember—tall, fit, with that damn buzz cut and five o’clock shadow that makes him look like trouble.

Trouble I couldn’t keep my hands off.

Our eyes lock for a split second–hazelnut meeting silver.

Asher’s eyes widen, his head snapping back in surprise.

My throat tightens, but I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’s getting to me.

“Poison, you good?” Dex mutters beside me, snapping me back to reality.

“Yeah?” I manage to croak out, my voice betraying me.

His eyes get a little more serious. “Who the fuck is that?”

I’m trying like hell to keep my cool. “No one.”

Asher hesitates for a heartbeat—maybe two—before he steels himself and strides onto the stage, all confidence and swagger.

The crowd erupts, their cheers blending into a deafening roar.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.

Heat spreads through my body, starting from my chest and radiating outwards.

My skin prickles under the weight of memories and unresolved tension.

How could he be the one here tonight, out of all the artists in the world—it had to be my ex.

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