Page 40 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

Their voices merge in perfect harmony, singing a song I recognize but can’t quite place. The crowd knows it, though—voices rising in unison, echoing back every word. Tesla owns the room with her voice, but Goldie holds her own, playing with the kind of strength that makes the stage feel like it belongs to both of them.

And then, the lights blaze to their brightest setting, and?—

Everything stops.

The lights snap off. The music grinds to a halt. The silence is almost unbearable. I hold my breath, perched on the edge of my seat.

And then?—

Logan.

His voice echoes through the stillness.

“Hello,” he sings, the sound slicing through the darkness, haunting and raw. “Have you lost your way?”

I inhale sharply, and a burst of light blinds me as the stage comes alive again.

There he is. Logan stands stage left, a keyboard in front of him, a guitar slung over his back. His fingers move across the keys, playing a synth line beneath Tesla’s guitar and Goldie’s drums. Supporting, never overshadowing. Tesla’s voice carries the song, but Logan knows his place, backing her without ever trying to take center stage. This is her song, her moment, and even Logan Shock knows better than to steal it.

I smile, watching him. Watchingthem.I’ve never seen The Electrics live before. Only the occasional clip on my feed or a peek at a VRL episode.

They’re incredible.

I sit spellbound, the condensation on my club soda slowly dripping down the glass, wetting my fingers, barely cooling me as my heart pounds in my chest.

When the song ends, the lights come up, spilling light over the packed room. The world shakes with applause. My stool vibrates against the floor, leaving me tingling expectantly.

Logan steps away from the keyboard, shifting his guitar to his front as he adjusts his microphone stand. “Hello, Las Vegas,” he purrs into it, the sound sending a shiver down my spine that nearly knocks me to the floor.

His adoring fans roar, their hands shooting into the air as if they’d drop to their knees at his command.

Logan grins, eyes scanning the sea of faces, his gaze sharp and hypnotic, framed by a thick line of midnight eyeliner that only intensifies his already fierce stare.

And then his eyes find me.

I freeze.

For a moment, it’s just me and him—his gaze holding mine, burning through the distance. Our connection is only broken when the house lights flicker and dim, plunging me back into the shadows.

But he knows I’m here.

A wave of unease curls deep in my stomach. It’s like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not doing supposed to be doing what I’m doing.

BAD KITTY

I should slip out before anyone else notices I’m here.

Goldie taps her sticks together, the beat echoing through the walls, vibrating the air. Or maybe that’s just my skin trembling under the weight of the tension. I lift my glass to my lips, but the cool club soda does nothing to soothe the fire spreading under my skin. Every thought in my head screams at me to leave, to slip away unnoticed, but my body refuses to obey. It’s like that invisible tether keeps me locked in place, my feet stuck to the floor, my body held fast, drawn in by Logan’s voice, by the music, by his…everything.

I don’t want to leave.

I want to be here.

But I should slip out, just… after this song.

* * *

A few songs later,I’m still here, my pulse racing with every beat of the drum.

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