“Let’s go,” I said dismissively. Loren wasn’t leaving shit, and it wasn’t because I’d make him stay. He couldn’t walk away any more than the rest of us. “We’re already late.”

Rich pushed away from the wall he was leaning against as we approached. For the first time in three weeks, he looked tempted to speak, but then Loren shoved the words back down his throat before he could utter them.

“Save it,” he snapped at the drummer. He then walked onto the empty elevator, leaving us no choice but to follow before the doors could close.

The entire way up, Rich stared at Loren from under the cloak of his hood while the bassist stared at the metal doors with no expression and pretended he didn’t notice. The tension was stifling, and when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, I hurried off before either of them.

We ignored the receptionist when we entered the office suite, and she yelled at our backs that Carl wasn’t expecting us.

No fucking shit.

He’d purposely left us out of this meeting.

Everyone in our path parted like the Red Sea when we stormed the hall. It wasn’t until we reached our destination and pushed inside the room, uninvited, that the feeling I’d been here before hit me.

Most of the seats at the long table were filled by suited men and women, including Oni Sridhar, and the man I assumed was the arbitrator. He stopped speaking mid-sentence when we entered.

All eyes were on us, but our eyes were for her.

She was seated at the head of the table, furthest away from the door. The exact spot I’d been standing when I saw her for the first time eight months ago when she burst into this very conference room and interrupted the meeting taking place then too. Even though she was dressed differently, and I knew better now, Braxton still looked as innocent today as she did then.

It was those big, brown eyes, light freckles, and her full mouth that never ceased to make a fool out of me. The only clue of the fire burning underneath was her red hair pinned up to show off her neck.

She was a living flame.

Our eyes met, yet she gave no reaction to us showing up. After what we’d done, just acknowledging our presence even briefly was more than we deserved.

I could only see her top half, but I recognized that sheer, black dress with crystal print and holographic detail. I knew the hem reached her calves. I knew there was a high slit showing off her left leg. I even recognized the black bra she wore underneath and knew she’d paired it with her favorite black boots. I couldn’t see her hands, but I knew she wore her rings. Braxton was part goth, part punk, and part boho. She didn’t want anyone figuring her out.

On opposite sides of her sat Xavier and her lawyer, who looked way too unsure of himself for my liking. We’d sent someone who stood a chance, of course, but Braxton had refused to accept our help. I was willing to bet she’d ate into most of the paltry advance Savant had given her to hire this amateur and all to prove a point.

At least she hadn’t turned away Xavier, not that he would have listened.

Heading in Braxton’s direction, I shook his hand as we passed, and then we commandeered the wall behind Braxton before anyone thought to protest.

“What are you three doing here?” Carl spat from the other end of the table. “I made it clear I’d deal with you later.”

Loren snorted and smiled. “Hilarious. I’ve been utterly bored these last few weeks. Why don’t you deal with us now?”

Rather than get upset, Carl returned his smile as he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the arms. His gaze shifted to each of us before he spoke. “I thought you’d be smarter, knowing what happens to you, yet you’re trying to help her anyway.” Shrugging, he looked down at the papers in front of him as he shuffled them around. “I guess the rumors are true.”

He looked up then to wink at Braxton, and I slammed my arm across Loren’s chest to keep him in place before he could even finish stepping forward.

Fucking up Carl would only make things worse for Braxton.

I didn’t remove my arm even after Loren relaxed. A calm Loren was just as unpredictable as a homicidal Loren. I glanced at Rich standing on my other side to gauge where his head was and if he’d force me to restrain him too.

He was staring at Braxton like he was stuck in time.

She pretended we weren’t even here.

I was pretty certain Jericho hadn’t heard a single word spoken since we stepped inside the room, but I could see the wheels in his mind turning. I could see him searching for the right words to say to her. Even if he found them, this was so not the time.

“Not now,” I whispered to him. Rich gave no indication that he heard me. Not one.

“What happens to them?” Braxton inquired, drawing my attention from my drummer and Carl’s focus back to her.

I heard Rich’s subtle but sharp inhale at the sound of her voice and even felt Loren’s heart lurch through his chest and underneath my arm. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out a way to steer Braxton off this course. I’d given Xavier specific instructions, though he hadn’t agreed, not to tell her a goddamn thing.

She was always meant to find freedom in darkness.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Carl answered her dismissively. To us, he said, “You see, there was no need for the three of you to ride in on your white steeds. I’m fully prepared to let Braxton out of her contract today. Everyone wins.”

And by everyone, he means Braxton and him.

There would be no salvation for us today.

Carl Cole would get what he wanted, and we helped it come to fruition. I should have been angry, but all I felt was relief. I—

“What. Happens. To. Them?” Braxton demanded.

Her forceful tone had yanked me from my thoughts, startling everyone in the room, including Carl. I could feel Xavier’s stare. I could hear him silently begging me to tell her.

I ignored him.

It wasn’t Braxton’s problem. She shouldn’t have to pay for our mistakes when she was already hurting from our lies.

Frustrated by Cole’s silence, she turned around in her seat to face us.

Just like that, I was catapulted back into her orbit.

I was home.

Braxton’s gaze was stern as she waited for one of us to crack and answer her burning question. “Tell me,” she demanded when our lips refused to move. That desperate note almost broke me, but I held. We all did.

It didn’t matter in the end.

No one, least of all Bound, was prepared for Oni Sridhar to break the weighted silence.

“In exchange for our complete financial support, Savant Records has a vested interest in all streams of revenue earned by Bound, including profits that would normally be denied to us under a traditional deal.” She paused when Braxton turned to face her, tempting me to wipe that patronizing smile from her face. “If they so much as sell a pencil with their name on it, dear, we get sixty percent of the profit. That’s across the board.”

Oni glanced our way, and for the first time, I swore I actually glimpsed guilt in her eyes. I didn’t care, though, not when she continued speaking, thwarting our attempt to protect Braxton from the guilt I knew she’d feel when Oni was done.

If Braxton stayed, I needed it to be because she wanted to.

It was her love I was after, not her pity.

“Their contract,” Oni continued, “which we locked them in for six years, stipulates that should all monies spent not be recouped, the binding agreement extends until we do. As you’re probably aware, Bound’s tours gross nine-figure revenues, but to make money, you must first spend it. I assume you can imagine how much this label has already expensed for Bound & Bellicose, a tour that is on the verge of not being completed. Because of you. Tickets will have to be refunded, of course. Unfortunately, the venues, production companies, promoters, etcetera will all still expect to be paid. Your bandmates could simply reimburse the label. However, their lawyers have recently and successfully negotiated the purchase of their masters to include every song recorded during their contract with us.”

Oni paused to lean forward, refusing to allow Braxton any give as their gazes remained locked several seats apart. If I didn’t hate her before, I certainly did now, especially when she delivered the final nail in Braxton’s coffin.

“It bankrupted them.” Oni leaned back in her seat, playing the role of a viper to get her point across when she smiled and shrugged. “Since we no longer own the rights to their recorded songs, their only option will be to stay and make us more.”

Oni’s lips parted like she was ready to say more when Rich suddenly stepped forward and spoke.

“Shut up.”

They were his first words in three weeks.

His voice was low and cracked from going so long without it, but it didn’t matter because, right now…he commanded the room. He made everyone listen, including Braxton, who was staring at him now.