Page 231 of Bliss & Her Idols

“Fine, let’s get this charade over with.” Philomena stomps to the far end of the seats and throws herself down. “If you think that this protest will change anything, then you’re wrong. Protests are how the weak try and convince themselves that they’re not powerless. At the end of it, however, they still need to kneel and bare their necks to the same Head Alphas as they ever did. I can listen to one song before I send you to the Alpha Center, brother.”

Torin gives a wicked smile. “Oh, but this isn’t a protest. It’s a revolution.”

The Idols immediately lower their heads, allowing their hair to obscure their faces.

Torin exchanges a glance with Immortal. Then they start to play.

It’s a rocky arrangement of the song that Torin composed for his bonding gift.

Immortal and Torin are incredible rock guitarists. Despite the tension, I can’t stop myself dancing and rocking out.

These three men don’t need gorgeous costumes, effects, and lighting to look like rock gods.

It’s part of their natures and souls.

Immortal swaggers around the stage, practically fucking his guitar.

I meet Cricket’s gaze, and he gives me an excited thumbs up.

He’s monitoring how this is being received.

I bet that this is already going viral for being a brand new song, then doubly for the guitar solos with a Beta and Alpha together.

It’s going to be nothing, however, compared to when Jin and Immortal begin to sing.

At last, the guitars quieten. Immortal approaches Jin. The contrast between their white and black hair is dramatic, as they sing into one microphone.

This song was breathtakingly beautiful when Torin sang it.

When Jin and Immortal sing it, however, it’s shockingly spellbinding.

Moving.

Raw.

Entranced, I can’t look away from the stage.

I’m breathing too fast. My skin tingles. I feel like I’m floating.

Even Cricket’s fingers have stilled over the keys.

I’ve never heard Jin sing like this. I thought that he’d been entrancing before, but released now from his chains, he’s flying even higher.

This is him, singing for his life.

As the song reaches its climax, the ranks of Idols raise their heads, revealing their faces.

They join in on the choruses. Their combined voices are like a host of angels. Except, ones who have been trapped and had their wings broken.

“When I die, I hope that I hear this in front of heaven’s gates,” Cricket whispers.

A shiver runs down my spine.

I won’t let him die.

My eyes water with tears. “Now.”

Cricket taps away at the laptop, turning on the cage-like screen at the back.

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