It’s almost time for me to go. I’m starting to get teary again. There’s still so much I want to say. I eye her suspiciously as she crosses the stage. When I see her chatting it up with one of the guys in the crew, I realize why she was so eager to leave my side.

I always saw the chaos in her, but I never let it stain me. I created a space inside my head where the music would die. Because if I couldn’t hear music at all, then I wouldn’t hear her notes either. You can’t spend your entire year being invisible,” she argues, eyebrows tightening to punctuate her point. Silence shudders and dies. Music fills my ears. My own creation. My own twisted beast. I form it from nothing but my own pain and torture. Dark, pulsing notes. Lashing chords. A song that’s all about bleeding and destruction. It twines with my heart and gives me energy when I had none before. I play until my fingers start throbbing. Then I stop. Spent.”Clipboard Guy purses his lips. “Look, it’s already unprecedented to have an act we’ve never heard of open for The Kings.” His stare turns icy. “Feel free to bow out if you have an issue.”

Wild and dramatic. The sound of a hurricane at its peak, winds strong enough to uproot a tree and send it lashing into a building.

It’s too late. You already accepted the scholarship.” She fixes the red bob that’s covering my long, brunette hair from view. Blue eyes focused, she fusses until the strands meet her approval. “And you know why you can’t turn this down.”

I’d descended into my thoughts to escape the noisy cover, but it seems like the music’s gotten even louder. He gives me another weird look before saying, “Our final act isn’t here yet, so we’re going to intermission. You’ll be up as soon as they arrive.” Six years later, I still need the wig to perform in front of crowds, but at least I’m performing. I guess you can call it a rousing success. They draw closer. The music in my head swells as I notice the finer details of their faces. Hard jaws and cheekbones chiseled by the gods. Straight noses. Full, pursed lips.

If you don’t know, how are you so sure it’s not a scammer?” She plants her hands on her hips, causing her bangles to dance. I’m sorry I have to leave you behind in this cold, cruel world, but I know that you’re going to take good care of your sister. And I know you’re going to be strong. Me? Run from this,” I gesture to the blonde performer who’s soaking in the ‘woof, woof, woof’ erupting from the guys in attendance, “lavish display of musical prowess?” I blink innocently at my best friend. “Never.” Breeze snorts and covers her mouth with one hand. I pretend not to notice. Creating new stage names for every performance is a thing I do. It helps me pretend that I’m someone else while I’m playing.

I wish I had more to leave for you, but that’s all I can manage for now. Your brother will take care of the rest. Try not to aggravate him too much. He isn’t all that excited about meeting you two, but it’s not personal. Trust me. So this book follows the FMC who gets accepted into a prep school that has a good music program. The MM c's name is Dutch and he is in a band with his twin brother and adopted Brother. MMC first meets FMC at the. I thought if I burned the words they’d disappear, but the ashes rose from the dead and started haunting me. As if summoned, the trio who just performed glide off the stage in their sparkles and glamor. They look left, catch sight of me and then laugh rudely as they walk away.It’s not that I want to perform for the students at Redwood Prep tonight, but I’m halfway through my next-on-stage jitters. The thought of prolonging the torture makes me physically ill. It’s not a scammer.” I shut the phone off because I don’t want to think about anything other than the performance. This cruel king won’t stop until he breaks me. Dutch Cross, lead singer of The Kings, is a monster.Don’t let his amber eyes, chiseled jaw line, and crooning voice fool you.He prowls the hallways of Redwood Prep like he owns every inch.Brutal.Untou... The rest of my words die a flailing death as my best friend bumps me out of the way with her hip and shrieks, “The Kings are playing tonight?” Breeze.” I grab her arm to keep her at my side. The only thing shorter than my pint-sized best friend is her fuse. “Don’t engage. I don’t want to get on their radar.”