Page 5 of Siren

“Exactly. So let it work for you this time.”

I looked around the room again. Greg was already pretending to read something on his screen. Charli was biting her lip. Jalen’s expression was unreadable.

I sat back down, slow. My body stiff, heart still thudding.

“I’ll do the music,” I said. “But I won’t be paraded.”

“You won’t be,” Brielle said. “I promise.”

A beat passed.

Then she slid her phone across the table, the contact open.

Taraj “Raj” Ferrell.

No emoji. Just a number.

“I’ll let him know you might reach out,” she said.

I didn’t reply. Just stared at the number like it might reveal something.

The meeting wrapped quickly after that.

The suits retreated with smug nods and silent back-pats.Marketing buzzed on about virality and rollout strategy. Jalen gave me a nod before slipping out, his expression neutral—but not cold. Just… cautious. Like he knew I had fire sitting just behind my teeth.

When we stepped into the hallway, Brielle reached for my arm.

“You’re going to kill this,” she said, low and firm. “Don’t let them box you in.”

I gave her a look. “They never could.”

But my jaw was tight.

Too tight.

Because part of me still felt cornered—scooped and served like a product instead of a person. And I hated that Brielle had let them lay the trap that way.

Still… I couldn’t forget what she did for me that night in Houston.

When the label wanted me in latex and auto-tune. When their rep threatened to pull the set. And Brielle stood flat-footed in the green room and said,

“She’s not your puppet. Fix the lighting or we walk.”

We walked. They scrambled.

And she caught hell for it after—but she never flinched.

So yeah. I was mad now. But I knew where her loyalty lived.

Still, I didn’t breathe right until I was in my car. Until I made it back to Philly and the buzz of my city wrapped around my shoulders like a favorite coat.

TWO

The beat was rolling low—thick bass, chopped guitar, nothing too polished yet.

Amir stood behind the board, nodding slow, head tilted like he was listening to something the rest of the world hadn’t caught up to yet.

Myles was half-asleep in the corner chair, hood up,tapping his pen against the edge of the soundboard like a metronome.

---