Page 40 of Saving the Rockstar

I debated for a long moment, torn between my respect for Asher's privacy and the overwhelming urge to protect him. But in the end, my instincts won out. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into danger, and I'd be damned if I let anything happen to him on my watch.

So I followed him, keeping a discreet distance as he wound his way through the city streets. My heart sank as I watched him enter a seedy-looking hotel, the kind of place where people went to conduct illicit affairs and shady deals.

I slipped inside, my heart pounding as I made my way to the room number I had seen Asher enter. I pressed my ear to the door, straining to hear the conversation within, but the voices were too muffled to make out.

For a moment, I wavered, my hand on the doorknob. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe Asher really was just meeting an old friend, and I was invading his privacy for no good reason. The thought of him with someone else, with a lover, made my stomach twist with jealousy and heartbreak.

But then I heard it. The sound of raised voices, of Asher's cries of pain and fear. And I knew, with a sickening certainty, that he was in trouble.

With a burst of adrenaline, I slammed my shoulder against the door, feeling the cheap wood splinter and give way under my weight. And there, in the dimly lit room, I saw a sight that made my blood run cold.

Carter, the man who had haunted Asher's nightmares and plagued his waking hours, loomed over Asher's cowering form. His face was twisted with rage and malice, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You're nothing without me, Asher. Nothing. And if you don't do as I say, I'll make sure the whole world knows what a pathetic, worthless little-"

But he never got to finish his sentence. Because something inside me snapped. With a roar of fury, I lunged at Carter, tackling him to the ground with all the force of a freight train.

We grappled on the floor, trading punches and kicks with brutal intensity. Carter fought dirty, trying to gouge at my eyes and knee me in the groin. But I was relentless, my training and my rage fueling my every move.

I could hear Asher's voice in the background, calling my name in a panic. But I couldn't focus on that now. All I could see was Carter's sneering face, all I could feel was the satisfying crunch of bone under my fists.

It seemed to go on forever, that brutal dance of violence and fury. But finally, I gave Carter a last, vicious punch to the jaw. I watched as he slowly stumbled to his feet, his face a maskof rage and humiliation. He then turned and bolted from the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he fled.

I staggered to my feet, my chest heaving and my knuckles raw and bloody. And then, like a switch had been flipped, my rage gave way to concern. I turned to Asher, my heart clenching at the sight of him huddled against the wall, his face pale and streaked with tears.

"Asher," I murmured, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Asher stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, to my surprise, he launched himself into my arms, burying his face in my chest as he clung to me like a lifeline.

I could feel his heart racing, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. In that moment, I realized the depth of my feelings for this man, the lengths I would go to keep him safe.

"It's okay," I murmured, stroking his hair with gentle fingers. "I've got you, Ash. You're safe now."

He let out a choked sob, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt as he buried his face in my chest. I could feel his tears soaking through the material, his whole body shaking with the force of his emotions.

I held him like that for a long moment, rocking him gently back and forth as I murmured soothing words into his ear. And slowly, gradually, I felt the tension begin to drain from his body, his sobs quieting to soft hiccups and sniffles.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks streaked with tears. But there was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability.

"Come on," I said gently, taking his hand in mine. "Let's get out of here."

I led him out of the hotel and to my car, my arm wrapped protectively around his waist. He was quiet as I drove, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.

After a few minutes, he spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. "You followed me," he said, not quite a question.

"I did," I admitted, my voice low. "I'm sorry if that was out of line, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I was worried about you."

"I should be mad at you," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But I can't seem to find it in me. I'm glad you were there. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did."

I reached over and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll always be there for you," I said softly, my voice filled with all the love and tenderness I felt for him. "No matter what."

We were quiet for a moment. But then, softly, hesitantly, Asher began to speak.

"Carter tried to force me to work with him again," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "He threatened to out me, to ruin my career if I didn't do what he wanted. I thought I could be brave, that I could stand up to him and tell him to fuck off. But when I got there, he just lost it. He started yelling and screaming, and then he pushed me."

I felt a surge of anger rise up in me at his words, my hand clenching into fist on the steering wheel. But I forced myself to stay calm, to focus on Asher and what he needed in that moment.

"I'm so sorry," I said softly, my voice filled with compassion. "But I want you to know that none of this is your fault. Carter is the one who's in the wrong here, not you."

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