Page 170 of Symphony for Lies

Amelia was my first woman. My first love. The only woman.

From the moment our eyes met, I had known. I wanted her. No one else.

Memories crashed over me like waves, drowning me in their relentless pull.

The way she looked at me. The way she moved. The way my blood boiled with possessive rage every time I saw her with Tristan.

The man my mother had always compared me to. The one she had placed on a pedestal as if he was somehow better than me. He wasn’t just my rival in music. He was my rival in everything.

He had tried to sabotage and humiliate me many times, a side of himself he had never shown Amelia or anyone else.

As a child, I did let it get to me. But when I grew up, I stopped. I ignored him. I refused to let him dictate my life.

I built my own path without my parents’ expectations.

Music had been my only escape. It was forced on me, but it was the only thing I had ever been allowed to love. Until Amelia. But I had been nervous to approach her. She was a mystery I couldn’t solve.

And Tristan. The damn asshole. He noticed. And the moment he saw the way I looked at her, Ella saw it, too. My mother wanted her out of my life. And that psychotic bastard had wanted her dead. Everyone had tried to take Amelia from me as if being together with her was not allowed, not a given. Never again.

No one. Not even a killer would ever stand between us again.

“Could you… let go of my hand? It feels… kinda heavy.”

My entire world halted.

Chapter 35

Zane's POV

Amelia’s beautiful, brown eyes gleamed faintly under the glow of the hospital monitors. They were hazy and weak but alive.

For one agonizing second, I thought I was hallucinating. That my exhausted, desperate mind was playing one last cruel trick on me.

But she blinked. She was awake.

A soft tremble ran through her fingers. My grip tightened instinctively. I couldn’t let her go. Not ever again.

A ragged breath shuddered out of me as I leaned closer. My free hand reached up to cradle her cheek, and my fingertips ghosted over her warm skin.

“Amelia…” Her name left my lips in a rasp, cracked and raw.

She was awake. She was safe.

I softly laid my forehead against hers, inhaling sharply, trying to convince myself it was real.

“Thank God.”

I kissed her slowly as if I could anchor myself to the moment, feeling her life pulsing against my lips.

Her heartbeat stuttered. I felt it. Heard it. And fucking loved it.

A harsh ache surged through my chest, and I could barely breathe past it. She was reacting to me. My Amelia.

My fingers trailed down her throat, brushing against the delicate flutter of her pulse. It was displayed on the monitors, steady and reassuring, but I needed to touch it. Needed to confirm it was real.

She parted her lips, her voice barely whispering, “Zane. I need to talk to Spencer.”

Everything inside me went cold. What?

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