Page 1 of Metal & Mud

PROLOGUE

SABBY - A FEW YEARS AGO

The music didn’t float through the air on invisible wings. It wasn’t that type of music. The notes ripped through the small club like a banshee’s wail, turning every breath into an electric charge that buzzed against Sabby’s skin. The guitarist looked like he might be a weekend warrior—an accountant by day with a decent wig to amplify his rock persona at night—but he had a gift. The way he tore chords out of that battered Fender around his neck wasn’t something you could learn in CPA school.

Sabby recognized real talent, however young she was. And as much as she appreciated a killer guitarist, she’d mainly come for the singer. There weren’t enough women in rock, and this one was among the best stateside—though Sabby’s personal top five were mostly European metal queens who only hit the U.S. for the big festivals.

“Hey!” Her friend Aubrey poked her in the side. With the live music blasting, it was the only way to get Sabby’s attention. Aubrey then yelled into her ear, “We should get going!”

Sabby tore her gaze away from the guitarist. “Why? We just got here!”

Aubrey leaned in again, frustration evident on her face. “We’ve got our math final tomorrow! I’m right on the line for honor graduate, and if I’m gonna get any scholarships?—”

“Are you serious?” Sabby shook her head. “It’s the best night ever!” She glanced back at the stage, where the lead singer prepared to launch into the next verse.

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. “But I’m your ride. How are you gonna get home?”

Sabby shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve got my dad’s debit card. I’ll grab an Uber if I need to. Just stay for the rest of the set, okay? The solo’s almost done, and the next part is going to be epic.”

For a moment, she thought Aubrey might give in. But Sabby had pushed her friend too far outside her comfort zone. “Sabrina, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes!” Aubrey shouted, stomping her foot and then turning away, slipping through the crush of bodies.

Sabby let her go. Aubrey would make it home just fine, she always drove like someone’s cautious grandmother. Sabby knew her friend wasn’t really cut out for sneaking into clubs on a weeknight. She should never have dragged Aubrey along. But Sabby’s own license was currently frozen in a block of ice in the freezer at home, a punishment courtesy of her mother’s latest “Dear Abby” idea.

As if on cue, the singer, a red-and-black-haired powerhouse clad in a succubus-inspired outfit, took the microphone. Black contact lenses made her look as fierce as her soaring operatic vocals sounded, and Sabby’s spirits lifted with every high note. This was what made life worth it, this moment of pure, unfiltered adrenaline that a metal show provided.

The band played originals, then wrapped up with their metal cover of “One Last Time,” the version that had gone viral and earned them thousands of fans. By the final note, Sabby was drenched in sweat, heart hammering like a wild thing in her chest. She felt euphoric, no sports victory or gym workout ever came close to how a thunderous metal track made her feel.

It ended abruptly the moment someone grabbed her backside, definitely not an accidental brush in the crowd. She spun around and saw a guy who had to be ten years older than her, smirking down at her.

“What the hell, jerk?” she snapped, her anger flaring. “Who do you think you are?”

“I see you showing off in that skirt,” he drawled, while his buddy snickered behind him. He grabbed his crotch and sneered. “You want more?”

She knew she was supposed to walk away. It was a crowded club, she was alone, and underage. But safe play had never been her style. Without a word, she slammed a fist into his nose with all the force her hundred-and-fifteen-pound frame could muster.

“Hands off, pervert!” she yelled. Blood spurted from his nose, and she nailed his shin with a sharp kick. His friend tried to step in but caught a wicked punch to the ribs.

They fought, chaotic and fierce. Club security finally wrestled her off the guy’s back, where she’d been clawing at him like a wild animal. Sirens eventually cut through the music and chatter, and Sabby realized in a flash of lights that her night was going downhill fast.

* * *

“Sabrina Adams?”

Exhausted, Sabby raised her head from where she slumped on a hard bench in a holding cell. The officer calling her name looked just as tired as she felt.

“That’s me.” She stood, taking note of a twitchy girl in the corner who’d been glaring at anyone who so much as breathed too loudly. This wasn’t Sabby’s first brush with the law, but it was the first time she’d spent a chunk of the night in an actual lockup rather than waiting in a side room for her parents.

The cop led her out into the main part of the station and over to a small window with a metal grate. “Sign here for your belongings,” he said. “You’re free to go.”

Sabby blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “The other women in the club backed your story. Seems like your buddy there was a repeat offender grabbing rear ends. So, no assault charges this time.”

“But?”

“But don’t be dumb again. Sneaking into a bar with a fake ID is dangerous. You’re lucky nothing worse happened.” He slid her phone and wallet across the counter, giving her a look that said he’d lost enough sleep already.

Sabby rolled her eyes, but kept silent. No point in arguing. She signed for her stuff, then left the station, stepping into the frigid December dawn. The sky was gray, light just starting to break. Her phone was low on battery, and she really didn’t want to call her parents. She’d deal with them eventually, but not now.

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