Page 7 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
"You," Rex snarls, pointing at me like he's casting a curse. "We need to talk."
Jake immediately steps forward, all alpha posturing. "Hey, man, you can't just?—"
"Shut the fuck up, pretty boy. This doesn't concern you." Rex doesn't even look at him, that single visible eye still boring into me. "Where did you get your music?"
I blink, genuinely confused. "What? Dude, I don't even know?—"
"Don't." His voice drops to something dangerous, and suddenly the room feels too small. "Answer me. I'm not going to ask you again.Wheredid you get that music?"
There's something about the way he's looking at me that makes my skin crawl. Not just anger. Something else. Like he's trying to solve a puzzle and I'm a piece that doesn't fit right.
My band exchanges confused looks. Mike actually laughs, nervous. "Okay, this is getting weird. Maybe we should?—"
"Look," I say to Rex, keeping my voice steady even though my heart's hammering. "I don't know what you think is happening here, but Stephen gives us the music. We perform it. That's it. If there's some kind of problem?—"
"Some kind of problem?" Rex gives a laugh that’s more like a rough growl. "Your entire existence is built on grave robbing, and you want to talk aboutproblems?"
My literal ass brain goes straight to shovels and graveyards and rotting corpses before I can even start trying to process what the fuck he's talking about. And I'm still coming up empty. What the fuck does he mean,grave robbing?
"Hey!" Jake steps between us, chest puffed out like he's ready to throw down. "Back the fuck off, man."
Rex actually takes another step forward, and now Phoenix physically intervenes, his huge hand landing on Rex's shoulder.
"Rex. Not here. Not like this."
"He needs to know," Rex says quietly, dangerously. "If he knows, he can't play fucking innocent."
"What Ineed," I say, finding my spine because fuck this guy, "is for you to get the fuck out of my dressing room before I call security."
"Security." Rex laughs again. "Right. Because that's what you do, isn't it? Hide behind other people. Like your shitty ass manager. Pretty good cover for a thief."
"That's enough." Rafael's dark eyes are serious. "Rex, we're leaving. Now."
Rex turns on Rafael with a snarl.
"SECURITY!" Mike bellows, and suddenly there's chaos.
Two beefy guys in black shirts appear, moving toward Rex. Phoenix gets between them and his bandmate, hands up in a peaceful gesture. Rafael's still trying to pull Rex back as Rex threatens to punch his lights out if he doesn’t back off. Jake's still in alpha protection mode. Ethan's pressed against the wall like he wants to disappear, even when Rex finally storms off.
Phoenix pauses at the door, looking back at us apologetically. “I'm really sorry about this. He's... going off the rails lately.”
"Lately?" Rafael scoffs on his way out the door, giving a dismissive wave of his tattooed hand without turning around. "Rex wasbornoff the rails."
"It's fine," I hear myself say, even though it's not. "Not the first time someone's flipped their shit on me backstage. Comes with the territory."
Phoenix gives me a long look, like he's not sure if he should say anything else. Then he nods and disappears after his bandmates.
The room stays quiet for a full minute after they leave.
"What the fuck was that?" Jake finally asks.
They're all staring at me, waiting for some explanation I can't give. Because I’m just as fucking lost as they are.
"Jealous egomaniac," Mike suggests to break the silence, but his usual humor sounds forced. "Jealous and probably drunk."
"I need to go," I say, already moving toward the door. "Long fucking day."
"Bells—" Jake starts.
