Page 68 of Heart of a Rebel

My head swims. “How?”

“No fucking clue.” Sebastian reaches out and takes my hand at the same time as Rome plants a hand on my shoulder.

Only then do I realize I’m shaking.

“Th-the c-crew?” My words are coming out stilted, but I can’t help it.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Adrian had his guy look into everyone on the crew and they all came back clear. None of them have records or were anywhere near LA the night it happened.”

“But he was here.”

A few heads backstage turn, and I realize it came out a lot louder than I anticipated. But I can’t help it or contain it.

Six years ago, I thought the assault was random. But when the flowers started arriving at Adrian’s house, it became clear it wasn’t random at all. Further proved by the recent escalations. He wants me to know he’s still here. He wants me to know he’salwaysbeen here. He wants me scared.

I put on the strongest front I can as I wipe my face of all feeling. If he had access to my tour bus and guitar case, he could be anywhere around me. And as unnerving as that thought is, it’s also a reminder that I don’t want him to have the pleasure of watching me break.

“Thank you for letting me know.” I nod my head.

Sebastian’s eyebrows furrow, but I don’t give him a chance to say anything as I slip out of his grip and duck out of the band’s circle. I hold my head up high and ignore the eyes watching me. Too many of them for me to count, one set, in particular, burning into the side of my head from where I know Adrian is still standing.

I keep my cool on the outside even as an avalanche strikes within.

I keep calm.

Collected.

It isn’t until I reach my dressing room and shut the door that I pull the curtain open in my chest. It’s all there where it’s always been. One tear and I shred from the inside out.

I bleed.

I break.

I can’t escape him.

“Damn girl.” Merry whistles. “What the fuck have you done with Eloise Kane?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” I smile as I slide up next to her.

It’s a lie. I know exactly why half the room turned to look at me when I walked in. All thanks to this knockout dress.

It’s not that I’m overly modest, since being a rock star doesn’t really allow it, but I don’t usually make a show of myself either. I keep it simple, understated. Classy, cool Eloise.

Except tonight I really don’t give a shit.

I’m tired of feeling like the men in my life have taken the power of feeling sexy away from me, so I’m taking it back. Between the guys my mom brought around looking at me like they wanted to end up in jail for whatever they were thinking, to the man who forced himself inside me, I’ve harbored a fear of exposing my body, worrying that if I show too much, I’ll be exposed.

But that’s whathewants, what they all want. To quiet me. To make their actions my fault when it isn’t. No more.

I’ve emboldened many women to reclaim their own power—their own bodies—that it’s finally time I retake mine.

Which is why I’m standing here in this dress.

After last night’s show, I’ve been on edge. So while Adrian spent the day working with the crew on plans for the upcoming Sun Daze Festival, I went out shopping. Flanked by security, of course.

The second I saw this dress hanging in the window, I couldn’t help myself. And my original plan for what I was going to wear to this charity event went out the window.

The dress is scarlet red, strapless, and long, but with a slit that goes all the way up the front of my leg until it reaches my hip. It draws out my curves like an hourglass, and I don’t have to be vain to know I look damn good in it.

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