Page 125 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

Katrina lies back on the bed.

I follow her down, needing to lose myself in her. Maybe for the last time.

In the morning, I kiss her goodbye.

I watch her go.

I wait for Monroe to come knocking.

It takes longer than I expect.

After days of grinding, of polishing our set until every note cuts like glass, I return to my hotel room.

“Logan,” Monroe says the second I walk in. “Close the door.”

I obey. There’s no use in running or arguing. As the door clicks shut behind me, I stay close to it, my pulse ticking up with every breath.

Monroe is sitting in the chair by the window. The curtains are wide open, letting the neon glow from The Strip spill in, pulsing against his face. The shifting lights only deepen the anger carved into his jaw as he glares at me.

“You’ve been out a while,” he says.

I nod once. “Still prepping for the Battle.”

No use pretending otherwise. That’s why he’s here.

“Ah, yes. The Battle of the Bands,” he says, fingers steepled, brushing the edge of his beard. It’s scruffier now, like he doesn’t bother with grooming much anymore. “Two of the hottest bands in the country, duking it out for rock supremacy.ThatBattle of the Bands?”

“Yes.”

“Well... that can’t be right.” His smile is empty, teeth bared like a warning. “Because you told me that was over. And yet, everywhere I turn, I see the hype. Halloween night. Criminal Records versus The Electrics. In LasfuckingVegas, Nevada.”

“Listen,” I say, taking a step forward. “I can explain?—”

“Can you?!”

Monroe explodes from the chair, sending it toppling against the window. I flinch, backing up, expecting him to stop, but he flies toward me. He fists the front of my jacket, dragging me toward me.

“Can you explain to me, Logan,” he growls, his face inches from mine, “why you thought it would be smart to lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I really thought... once they found out about us...” I falter. The guilt turns molten in my chest, burning me alive. “I thought it’d be enough.”

“Then domore.”

“I can’t.”

His eyes twitch. “Youcan’t? Or youwon’t?”

“Ican’t,”I repeat, the words scraping out of me. “You don’t get it, Monroe. Criminal Records... they’re unbreakable. The show goes on, no matter what.”

“Everybody has a breaking point, Logan,” he says through his teeth, voice low and dangerous. “And I’ve just about reached mine.”

He shoves me backward. I stumble until my spine slams into the wall while he pulls his phone from his back pocket.

“Please,” I say. “Monroe, we can work this out. We can find another way.”

“Thereisno other way,” he says, not even looking at me as he swipes through his contacts.

“What do you want?” I beg. “Money? Every penny I’ve got, it’s yours.”

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