Page 3 of Siren

“You still trend—especially post-tour. And the Paris drop gave us great metrics. We just need to convert that buzz with a more active, visible rollout. Keep you in the cultural conversation.”

I didn’t turn to face her right away. Just blinked.

So they’d been listening.

Of course they had.

This wasn’t just a side conversation. It was bait. They’d let Brielle soften the field, lull me with honesty, only to swoop in with their curated next move.

I tilted my head slowly, gaze steady. “Am I not already in it?”

Greg cleared his throat like he’d been waiting for a cue. “You are. But we have to sustain that visibility. With streaming, visuals, social?—”

“Say the rest,” I cut in, voice even but sharp. Eyes locked on him like I already knew.

He blinked. Hesitated.

“We’re pairing you with someone. A collab. Something visual-forward. Possibly viral.”

I exhaled. Slow. Already bracing.

“Let me guess. A barely legal rapper with his tongue out on the cover art?”

“Actually,” Brielle said, stepping in like she was smoothing the edges, “it’s Taraj Ferrell.”

I paused.

Let the name settle. Taraj. The mystery man. Quiet. No gimmicks.

That track—Night Things—had lived in my chest for weeks when it dropped. There was pain in it. Not the kind you fake for Spotify playlists. Real ache. Layered. His eyes in those promo shots had said everything he didn’t. And that voice…

I remembered the way it curled around a lyric like smoke.

“He even do collabs?” I asked.

Jalen finally spoke. “He doesn’t. But he’s open to this.”

His voice was calm, even. Professional. But there was curiosity behind it—like he was watching to see if I flinched.

I didn’t.

I looked at Brielle, who made the introductions.

“Jalen is Taraj’s manager, and he wanted to sit in during this meeting to make sure Taraj’s interests were aligned with ours.”

“And his interests are?” I tried desperately to keep my cool, but I felt as if I were being railroaded.

“To grow as an artist while maintaining his authenticity.”

“If that’s the case, why would he want to work with me?”

“Because he’s talented and wants to work with the best in this industry.”

“He’s talented,” I said, slowly. “But what’s he doing for me?”

Greg jumped in again, smooth. “He brings new energy. Younger fanbase. Relevance.”

I locked eyes with him. “I am relevant.”

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