Page 78 of California Wild

This was it.

The first Soundwave show.

The biggest crowd they had ever played for.

The kind of moment she had dreamed about her whole damn life.

Caiden was beside her, his guitar strap slung low, tattoos gleaming under the white-hot lights. He smirked at her as he ran a hand through his messy black hair, sweat already starting to bead at his temples.

“Ready, Fox?” he said just for her, just close enough that his voice brushed against her ear.

The crowd was chanting their name. The bass from the speakers rattled through her chest. Kilgor was already pounding the first kick drum, and Billy plucked out the opening bass notes, the heavy reverb filling the air.

She turned to Caiden, breathless with adrenaline. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Then—boom.

The lights exploded. The sound crashed.

And Dead Run Riot tore into their first song.

The energy was electric, raw, something bigger than her, bigger than them. Hayley gripped the mic, throwing her whole body into the music, her voice soaring over the crowd, powerful and relentless.

She wasn’t just singing—she was commanding.

The crowd fed off it, surging forward, arms in the air, screaming every lyric back at her like a war cry.

And Caiden—fuck—Caiden was right there, feeding off her energy, pushing her, teasing her.

They had always been good on stage together, but tonight was different. Tonight, it felt like a goddamn firestorm.

Every movement was seamless—her voice pushing against his guitar, his riffs pushing her vocals higher, sharper. At one point, he stepped close, real close, their bodies almost touching, their sweat mixing as he leaned in to harmonize against her mic.

It was intimate, intense.

And the crowd ate it up.

“Brisbane, make some fucking noise!” Caiden shouted between songs, and the crowd erupted. He turned to her with a wild grin, his green eyes dancing. “You good, Fox?”

She laughed breathlessly, pushing damp strands of auburn hair from her face. “Fucking great.”

Then came the moment.

The song that everyone knew. The one that had made them famous.

The first notes hit, and the audience lost their minds.

Caiden prowled over to her, their guitars slung behind their backs as they leaned into the same mic, their bodies inches apart, her voice mixing with his, singing into the same space. Their energy was feral, all fire and tension, and it looked like a goddamn love story unfolding in real time.

Caiden was that Irish bad boy that everyone loved. His talent. Presence. Accent.

Hayley could already see the headlines.

Could already hear the whispers.

Are they? Aren’t they? What if?

The press had been speculating for months, and this? This would only make it worse.

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