TWENTY-FOUR
Zia
"I sang too loud," Alfie whispered again, his voice cracking on the last word.
The air in the front lounge, which moments ago had felt like a sanctuary, now tasted like burning circuitry. The comfortable silence of the morning-after had been shattered by a notification sound.
I looked at Alfie. He was curled in on himself on the edge of the sofa, his pink faux-fur coat draped over his shoulders like he was trying to hide inside it. The golden retriever energy was gone; he looked like a dog that had chewed up the furniture and was waiting for the newspaper.
"Define 'too loud'," I said, keeping my voice steady. My producer brain was already kicking in, overriding the soft, hazy afterglow of the nest. When the mix is peaking, you don't panic; you reach for the limiter.
Euan didn't speak. He just silently turned the phone screen toward me.
I took it. My hand wasn't shaking, but my stomach did a slow, sick roll as I scanned the social media app he had open.
@MusicJournoUK: Riot Theory's frontman breaks script at Barrowlands... Who is the 'Ghost in the Machine'?
@RiotStan4Eva: 'Furniture or wall.' That's not a lyric, that's a code. He was talking to someone specific.
And there it was.Furniture or wall.
The private code Kit had used in the loading dock when I was melting down. The safety phrase that meantI will be solid object so you don't have to be a person right now.
Alfie had broadcast it to two thousand people and a global livestream.
I scrolled down. The hashtags were breeding like bacteria. #TheEngineer. #WeWantToBuild.
Then I saw Gareth Blake's tweet.
@GarethBlake_Official: Love seeing the boys passionate about their team! Romance sells records, eh? Watch this space for exclusive BTS content. #RiotRomance
The phone screen felt hot against my fingertips.
"He changed the lyrics," Euan said, his voice sounding like it was coming from a long way away. "During the encore. He pivoted the narrative from singular to plural. He included the specific safety protocol phrases we established in Leeds."
"I didn't mean to," Alfie choked out. He ran a hand through his messy hair, tugging at the roots. "I saw you... well, I didn't see you, but I felt you. The bond was screaming. The crowd was screaming. And I just... I needed you to know we were waiting. I needed you to hear the signal over the noise floor."
"So you shouted it through a megaphone," Kit said. He wasn't looking at Alfie; he was looking at me, his dark eyes tracking my reaction with terrifying intensity. He looked ready to fight the internet with his bare hands.
"I messed it up," Alfie said, staring at his boots. The scent of burnt sugar coming off him was acrid, thick and choking. "I ruined it. We had one perfect night. One night where you didn't have to be a ghost. And I just dragged the spotlight right onto your face."
I stared at the phone. I looked at the trending topics.
#WhoIsFoxTail
The industry eats Omegas. That's what I’d told myself since I was seventeen. That’s why I lived in a warehouse with triple deadbolts. That’s why I wore hoodies three sizes too big and panic-attacked my way through loading docks.
If they found me, they would consume me. They would turn me into content.Look at the little Omega producer, isn't she cute with her faders? Look at who she belongs to.
I looked at the Exit Card in my mind. It was sitting on the table in the back lounge, right where I’d flipped it over last night.
I could grab it. I could pack my bag. We were stopping in Manchester soon. I could disappear into the grey city rain and be a ghost again.
But then I looked at Alfie.
He was trembling. Genuine tremors rocking his frame. He wasn't scared for his career. He wasn't scared of the label. He was scared he’d lostme.
I looked at Kit, his jaw set so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. I looked at Euan, who was already mentally dissecting a new security protocol to scrub the internet.
