"Ha. Cupid City strikes again. Just don't let it cloud your judgment. Stalker's still out there—Derek's motel room was empty this morning. Lila's phone pinged near the venue an hour ago. We're closing in."
"Copy. Keep me posted." I hang up, pocketing the phone as Indigo emerges in her opening look—a sheer black bodysuit with heart motifs. She spots me, and waves me over.
"Everything good with Boss Man?" she asks, adjusting a strap.
"Yeah. Just updates." I don't mention Viola—don't want to worry her before the show. Instead, I pull her close, away from prying eyes. "You ready?"
"Born ready." She tilts her chin up, eyes locking on mine. "But... kiss for luck?"
I shouldn't—not here, not now. But resistance crumbles. I cup her face, kissing her soft at first, then deeper, tasting her gloss and the fire beneath. She melts into me, hands on my chest.
"Wow," she breathes when we break. "That's... motivating."
"Knock 'em dead," I say, voice husky.
The house lights dim as the audience filters in—buzzing chatter, flashes from phones. I take position stage right, Chase Corbett, another Heartline guy, at left, two more in the crowd. VIPs mingle: celebs, influencers, the works. Viola's out there somewhere, front row per Indigo's comp. Clean or not, I'll watch.
Enzo's voice crackles over comms: "Places! Opening in five!"
Indigo squeezes my hand one last time. "See you after."
"Count on it." As she lines up with the other models, my phone vibrates—Cass. Text: Band prelims clean. Jay has a weed bust from '22, nothing else. Digging deeper on Rico—shady ex. Update soon.
Good. But that "something big" feeling? It's intensifying. Like the air before a raid. I scan the crowd again, heart pounding not just from the op, but from her. Indigo. Mine? Maybe. If I can keep her safe.
The music swells, lights blaze. The show starts. She steps out first, owning the runway. Pride surges at the sight ofmy girl. But my eyes stay sharp. If any shadow moves wrong, I'm there.
Halfway through her first walk, a stagehand brushes past too close. I tense. "Corbett, eyes on the tech crew."
"Copy."
Indigo poses, and the crowd cheers. She's electric. And me? I'm all in.
The finale nears—pyros ready. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Cass. I answer low. "Talk."
"Rico Hale—band bassist. Linked to Derek Voss. Old buddies from a photoshoot gig years back. And get this: Viola's van? Repair shop confirms it was sabotaged. Cut lines."
Fuck. "She's clean, but he's not?"
"Possibly using her. Or she's in on it. Stay alert. I'm sending backup."
"Show's live. Handle quietly."
Indigo's back onstage, finale cue. Confetti preps. My gut screams.
"Enzo, hold pyro!" I bark into comms, already moving.
Too late. Burst fires—confetti rains. But mixed in: something glints. Shrapnel?
I lunge, tackling Indigo off the runway as screams erupt. It’s pure chaos.
"Corbett—secure perimeter! Cass, it's go time."
My heart pounds with her in my arms. "You okay?"
She nods, wide-eyed. "Mack..."
"I got you."
