Page 198 of Bound By Song

Xar’s smile curves slow and sure. “Then Liv sets up that meeting.”

Blaise winks. “But only if you promise to include a hidden track that makes us all cry.”

I laugh, and something inside me uncoils.

I don’t need to choose between silence and spotlight. I can stand in the middle.

Surrounded. Protected. Free.

Loved.

“I want it all,” I admit. “You. The music. The quiet. The messy in-between.”

Dane looks up at me, eyes like stormlight. “Then that’s what we’ll build.”

Not just a studio.

Not just a nest.

A life.

Together.

EVIANA

The farmhouse looks the same from the outside.

Whitewashed stone, ivy curling up one side, a fresh coat of paint over old cracks. New windows that gleam when the light hits just right. The goats are still menaces – chewing through the vegetable patch Dane insists on replanting every week. Blaise swears they’ve developed a taste for tomatoes, just to spite him.

But inside…everything’s different.

It feels likeusnow. Our home, not my childhood house.

The walls hum with music. The kitchen smells like rosemary and cinnamon and whatever terrifyingly god-awful combination Blaise is experimenting with. There’s a lived-in softness to the place – the kind that only happens when you stop waiting for the next disaster and start building something that lasts.

The rebuilt studio smells like cedarwood and clean leather, with a faint trail of lavender from the diffuser Xar insists helps with “focus.” Somehow, I don’t mind the scent as much as I used to.

The sunlight spills across the hardwood, catching on scuffed edges and tangled cords. My notebooks are everywhere – half-finished lyrics, doodles, lines I’ve scribbled in the middle of the night and can’t quite let go of. My mic stand is permanent now, always ready.

And for once, I don’t lock the door behind me.

There’s no more hiding.

Just singing.

I’m halfway through recording my debut album –Honey, for real this time– signed under the same label as the guys. No masks. No shadows. Just me.

We haven’t made any big announcements. A few teasers on socials, a couple of leaks that may or may not have been deliberate. My voice is out there, but not my face. Not yet. And the truth is…I don’t care about the reveal right now.

I’m just having fun.

Creating. Playing. Finding the joy again.

I only paint to be creative now, it’s no longer my day job. A couple of my clients were disappointed but I put them in touch with an even better painter – my sister – and everyone is pretty happy with the outcome.

My following’s grown like wildfire. Thousands of new listeners flooding in. DMs from strangers who say my songs cracked something open in them. People who say my voice makes them feel seen. Held. A few trolls too, obviously. Bitter fans who think I “stole their alphas.” Girls who say I’m not pretty enough, not omega enough, not enough, period.

But I don’t care.

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