Page 18 of Discover Me
The music starts and the crowd sings along immediately, knowing every word. But I don't hear any of it. My gaze stays firmly on Kellan, watching how he plays, his concentration firmly planted on his set. Each movement is precise and controlled but there's anger simmering off him. I can see it in the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches between songs, the barely contained violence in how hard he hits the drums.
I know I'm obsessed and I know this isn't healthy or normal or anything close to rational. But I can't help it. I'm enraptured, completely unable to look away. Every beat he plays resonates in my chest, echoing that pain that won't go away. Every time he shifts position, I track the movement. Every time his expression changes, I try to read what he's feeling.
The songs blur together. I don't know any of them so I can't sing along like everyone else. I'm just standing here in the middle of a crowd of thousands, completely focused on one man who doesn't know I exist. Who probably doesn't even remember saving me. Who sent flowers through his manager and moved on with his life while mine fell apart.
Then someone jostles me hard, their elbow catching my bad arm. Pain shoots through me and I gasp, turning to tell them to watch it. But everyone around me has gone more wild than usual, jumping and screaming and pointing.At me.
"What?" I look around, confused and slightly panicked.
A spotlight swings over to my seat, nearly blinding me. I shrink back instinctively, my good hand coming up to shield my eyes. I look around wildly, trying to understand what's happening. Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?
The Omega next to me grabs my shoulder, shaking me with enthusiasm. "Man, you're so lucky! Do you wanna switch seats? I'll give you a hundred bucks right now to switch!"
"What are you talking about?" I have to shout to be heard over the noise.
My attention gets torn back to the stage where the music has stopped. Tom, the manager I recognize from news coverage, steps up to a microphone with a huge smile on his face, the crowd quieting.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom's voice booms through the speakers. "We have a very special surprise tonight! One lucky fan in the audience has won a backstage tour with the band ofLunar Ransom!" The crowd erupts again, everyone screaming and jumping. I stand frozen, my heart in my throat, as Tom continues. "Section B, Row 12, Seat 8, come on down! Don’t be shy!!"
That's my seat. That's my fucking seat. The ticket is still clutched in my hand, crumpled and damp with sweat. Section B, Row 12, Seat 8.
The Omega next to me offers to buy my seat again, his voice more desperate now. The girl on my other side looks devastated that she didn't win. And I just stand there like an idiot, my legs refusing to move. This can't be happening. This has to be some kind of mistake. I can't go up there. I can't be that close to Kellan when I'm barely holding myself together as it is.
But security is already making their way down the aisle toward me. People push me forward, urging me to move. The pressure of hundreds of eyes watching and waiting, makes my skin crawl.
I force my legs to work, to carry me down the aisle toward the stage, a shy smile pulling at my face. Security meets me at the base of the stage, checking my ticket to verify it matches the winning seat. Then they help me up the stairs. The stage is bigger than it looked from my seat, full of equipment and cables. The lights are even more blinding up close, hot enough that I start sweating immediately.
Tom is there, throwing out a hand to shake before realizing which of my arms are in the cast. "Congratulations! What's your name?"
"Micah," I manage, my voice barely audible over the lingering crowd noise.
"Micah! Fantastic!" Tom gestures to the band members who've gathered near the edge of the stage. "Let's get you backstage for that tour, shall we?" Something in his expression morphs into recognition before he fixes it, that fake smile plastered back on his face.
Security ushers me toward the back, away from the crowd and the lights. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I can feel it in my throat. This is insane. This is actually happening. I'm about to meet Kellan, about to be in the same room as him, and about to find out if what I felt that day was real or just trauma and wishful thinking.
The backstage area is much cooler than the venue but no less chaotic. Equipment cases line the walls, cables snake across the floor, and crew members rush around preparing for the second half of the show. Jordan appears first, his features even more striking up close. His eyes widen slightly as he takes me in.
"I was unaware we attracted fans that look like you," Jordan says, appreciation in his voice. "Damn, you’re hearty for a Beta. Alright, let's get you that tour, yeah?"
Liam steps up beside him, his Alpha presence more pronounced in the smaller space. "Who's your favorite band member?"
I just stand there, quiet and very overwhelmed. My eyes search the backstage area for Rex and Kellan, needing to see them both before I can fully process what's happening. Answering that I’ve never heard any of their songs before today or that I only know of them because Kellan held me for five minutes seems like the wrong thing to say.
Tom introduces himself properly, though I already knew who he was. "I'm Tom, the band's manager. We'll get you a little tour of their instruments, show you around backstage, let you meet everyone properly." His smile takes on a different quality, something more calculated. "And then I've got a little extra something that I know you'll be unable to refuse."
I hate the sound of that but I think I hate the deviant expression on Tom’s face even more.
Micah
I'm very overwhelmed. That's the only way to describe the chaos happening around me. Jordan and Liam talk over each other, explaining the ins and outs of their setup with an enthusiasm that would be endearing if I could process any of it. Jordan gestures toward his microphone setup, explaining something about sound mixing and vocal monitors. Liam shows me his guitar, pointing out custom modifications and talking about tone and pickups.
If I were a fan, I would be falling all over myself, geeking out about everything they were showing me. I’d be asking to keep little trinkets sprawled across the room or taking random selfies to include these men on my socials. But I’m just…reallyoverwhelmed.
I nod along, trying to look engaged, but nothing sticks. The backstage area is smaller than I expected, cramped with equipment cases and cables running everywhere. The walls are concrete, painted black, and covered in years of graffiti from previous performers.
"This is my baby," Liam says, running his hand along the neck of his guitar with obvious affection. "Custom made, took me two years to get the specs exactly right. The tone is—"
Rex steps inside through a side door, his larger-than-life presence filling the space immediately. He's even more confident in person than he appeared on stage, energy radiating off him in waves. He takes one look at the scene and grins.
