Page 82 of Heart of a Rebel

I heardhim. I’m sure of it. The monster’s voice has replayed in my nightmares for years, so even if I wish it was a figment of my imagination, I know it wasn’t. What’s even more frustrating about this situation is knowing it, and still being unable to do anything.

He was right behind me—close—yet I still couldn’t recognize him. He could have been any of the faces in the crowd that stared back. A fact that’s as frustrating to me, as I’m sure it is to Adrian.

“I’m sorry.” I tip my chin down.

My words bring Adrian to a halt, and I run into his chest as he steps in front of me, stopping my path. His hand wraps around the edge of my jaw, lifting my face to meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His dark eyes hold mine. The depths of them an abyss as I try to make out any light in them. All color’s drained by either the night sky or the dilation of his pupils.

“If I knew what he looked like—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Adrian’s shoulders stiffen. “We’ll find him.”

Adrian’s fingers brush my jaw before he releases me. With an inhale, I wonder if his lungs are fighting for air like my own are. Taking in deep breaths that are claimed by the smoke from the campfires burning all around us. If I close my eyes, it almost feels like the flames of hell licking at me from a distance. A devil waiting to pounce.

“Come on.” Adrian tugs my hand, gripping it harder, and pulling me behind him.

Luckily, we don’t perform until tomorrow night, because I’m not sure my nerves are steady enough to go on stage right now. Not to mention Sebastian is fuming. Every flower, every incident, once more sets everyone in the band on edge.

I’ve had stalkers over the years. Overeager fans that want to get close. Eyes following me constantly. But this is different.

I’m sure if it were up to Adrian, I’d be locked on my tour bus with bodyguards standing at the door and him on top of me—either to fuck me or so no one could get close—maybe both. But I’m not willing to give up all the perks of being at the country’s biggest festival just because someone is out there intent on me living in fear.

I did that for long enough.

So against Adrian and Sebastian’s protests, I made it clear I’m enjoying this with or without them. From Adrian’s firm grip on my hand, he obviously went with the first option. Not that I’m complaining.

“Where are we going?” It might have been my idea to get off the bus, but Adrian was the one insistent on where we’re going.

“You’ll see.” Adrian peeks at me over his shoulder and even though his jaw is still tense, he cracks the slightest smirk. The light of campfires all around highlights his strong features.

This late in the evening, the performances are done for the day, but the festival still rages on around us. Tents, buses, campfires. People all around drinking, partying, enjoying themselves. Not one of them is paying attention to me.

I appreciate that I’m just another person in a setting like this. They couldn’t care less that I’m Eloise Kane, bass player for Enemy Muse. A few passersby even nod their heads at me like I’m any other person on the planet.

The crowd thins out as we reach the outskirts of the festival, and up ahead, I spot a large temporary building that has been erected in the middle of nowhere. Adrian guides me toward it.

The closer we get, I notice it’s built from painted planks and no two are the same. Each one looks like a work of art in its own right, encasing the structure. The doorway is tall and wide, but stepping inside, there’s no roof, leaving it open to the night sky above.

It’s a larger space than I expected, with benches and blankets all around. In the center sits an altar filled with candles, flowers, and pictures. An offering to whoever might be listening.

“What is this?”

Adrian stops us in front of the altar. Releasing my hand, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to his side. It’s a warm night, but the feel of his body still manages to send a shiver of anticipation through me.

“Clarity.” He hugs me close.

I skim the hundreds of pictures, letters, and trinkets scattered about in front of us.

“Not sure I get it,” I say honestly.

Adrian rests his chin on the top of my head as he holds me close. “People come here to leave things behind. Supposedly it helps. That’s what the crew was saying, anyway. I thought you’d like it.”

Adrian always knows exactly what it is I need without asking. But as I look up at him and see the pain streaked on his own face, I realize us coming here is for him as much as it is for me.

“Did you bring something?” I ask.

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