Page 33 of Knot My Band: Part One
I laugh at how random that was. We are just sitting around on the bus, passing time on our phones.
I’m surrounded by my two new stuffed toys that appeared after our first night in each city. I just know they’re from Jack, but I haven’t said anything yet.
“You’re watching those damn donut-making videos again.Aren’t you?” Dax asks.
My phone buzzes with a new message from Riley.
“Oli, you need to see this article. Brace yourself.”Her words are stark against the screen, and I can almost hear her voice, edged with concern.
“They’re enticing, and I can’t look away!” Chase grumbles.
Ignoring the guys around me, I click open the link to see an article on a popular gossip site.
The headline makes my stomach clench:OLI HART’S OFF-KEY PERFORMANCE STRIKES A SOUR NOTE.
My heart sinks, but I’m hooked. The article is by Alex Moore, a journalist I’ve never seen write about me before. I skim the words and realize she interviewed May, The Edge’s old lead singer.
“Oli, do you want donuts? You’re an omega. Don’t omegas always want something sweet?” Chase practically begs.
I hum noncommittally, barely hearing him.
She paints last night’s performance as a tragedy of epic proportions. They rip into my voice and claim I am ruining The Edge’s music.
“You’re only asking Olive because you know the crew would be willing to stop for her and not you,” Aiden grumbles.
May doesn’t stop there. She’s out for blood, and not just mine.“The band, once notorious for their electrifying stage presence, now seems to be relying on gimmicks and their omega lead’s flailing charisma to keep the crowds coming.”
“Oli, what are you looking at?” Aiden asks.
I swallow the bitter taste of her words, feeling the weight of my bandmates’ gazes heavy on me. They know something’s up.
“Your scent has soured. Tell us what’s wrong so we can fixit,” Jack demands, trying to look over my shoulder.
“Nothing,” I mutter, locking my phone before any of them can catch a glimpse of May’s brutal takedown. This isn’t how I wanted to spend the day.
“Something’s definitely off,” Aiden says, his eyes narrowing as he studies me.
“Spill it, Oli,” Chase insists, leaning forward in his seat, the concern etched into the lines of his face. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it’s a grenade about to go off.”
I sigh, knowing full well the bombshell I’m about to drop. “It’s an article,” I admit reluctantly, unlocking my phone again.
If I don’t show it now, they’ll just see it later.
“Let’s see it then,” Dax grumbles from the back, his voice carrying that typical edge of defiance.
I hand over my phone and watch as their faces transform with every line they read. Jack’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek, while Chase’s hands ball into fists, knuckles whitening. Aiden’s brows draw together so tightly I’m half-concerned they’ll fuse into one.
“May really outdid herself this time,” Jack spits out, tossing the phone onto the cushion next to him as if it’s tainted. “She’s always had it out for us, but this is low—even for her.”
“And she teamed up with Alex Moore,” Dax points out.
“Does the journalist matter?” I ask.
Jack looks up at me. “She’s always been after us for some reason and loved May. Every article and review she wrote was about May’s talent and tore us apart.”
“He’s right. Alex Moore has become our own personal thorn in the side—a reporter with a vendetta. She’s notorious for her intrusive interviews, where she prods and pokes withquestions designed to unravel us, and her articles are always tinged with bias, painting us as the poster children for all that’s wrong with the rock scene,” Aiden explains.
“Remember when she cornered us after the show in L.A.? Asked all those invasive questions about our personal lives?” Chase growls, frustration simmering in his tone.
