Page 33 of Knot My Band: Part Two
Jack steps forward. “It might be better if you don’t tell him.”
I can’t help but agree. We need to keep this away from the press.
Oli shakes her head. “I trust Riley’s judgment. If she can trust Brad, then we can, too. I want to leave the choice up to her. He can join us for as long as he wants.”
Riley pulls her into a hug. “Thank you. I’ll think about it. I’m not sure what I’ll do yet.”
I turn to look at Saint. “And you have someone watching over Riley as well, right?”
We discussed it at our first meeting, but I want to be sure they’re following up.
“Absolutely,” Saint declares.
Riley narrows her eyes at Oli but doesn’t protest.
Chase turns to Miranda. “We will get to the bus and get going. Thank you.”
She looks out the door behind her. “One more thing. There’s a media circus out there. We’ve kept them back, but the press has nearly tripled since the start of the tour. I have more people coming for the next show, but you should all travel to the bus and pass them together.”
“Thank you,” Jack says, wrapping an arm around Oli and pulling her into his body.
As we spill out of the venue’s side exit, I stay glued to Oli’s side, her rose gold waves brushing against my arm.
“Keep your heads down and walk fast,” Jack mutters ahead of us.
People line the barriers. It seems like a mix of fans and reporters. Usually, the attention would feel good, but it feels like a threat right now. I can’t help but search every shadow and face for danger lurking out of sight.
“Smile, but keep moving,” I whisper to Oli, feeling her tense beside me.
“Always do,” she says, her voice steady even as her fingers tighten around mine.
Flashes pop like fireworks, each burst leaving ghost images dancing across my vision. I blink them away, trying to focus on what matters- getting Oli to the bus safely.
“Are you a pack?” The question cuts through the noise, sharp and unexpected. An aggressive reporter bulldozes her way through the crowd, recorder in hand and determination etched into every sharp angle of her face. “The fans want answers, Oli!”
“Sorry, no comment,” Jack snaps.
She gets closer. The reporter’s hand shoots out, snatching Oli’s arm with a grip meant to stop our movement.
With a fluid motion that belies my usually reserved nature, I step in front of Oli, shielding her with my body. My muscles coil, ready to spring into action if necessary. Every sense is heightened, honed in on the threat.
“Let go,” I command, my tone leaving no room for argument. The reporter’s grip slackens just as our security detail descends upon her.
They’re efficient, a testament to their training and experience. One of them, a burly man with biceps that rival the girth of tree trunks, gently pries the reporter’s fingers from Oli’s arm while another steps between us and the intrusive journalist.
“Time to back off,” one of the twin security guards growls, his presence an immovable force. The reporter, outnumbered and outmatched, relinquishes her hold completely, a scowl marring her features as she’s ushered away, her notepad clutched like a shield before her.
“Are you alright?” I ask Oli, turning to her with concern. She nods, her emerald eyes wide but unharmed.
Relief floods me, but it’s tinged with a residual anger that simmers beneath the surface. My protective instincts are still on high alert, the adrenaline coursing through my veins like a drumbeat. I’m always ready to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
As we plow through the sea of fans, their cheers and camera flashes a dizzying storm, I tuck Oli into my side. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I fight to calm the tempest of protective fury that was unleashed moments ago.
I’ve never had trouble controlling my alpha instincts, but I’m glad they’re flaring now when Oli needs them.
“Let’s go,” I urge, guiding her forward with a gentle push to her shoulder. We move quickly to the bus, a haven in the near distance. My heart won’t settle until we’re enclosed in its steel embrace, away from prying eyes and probing questions.
“Nearly there,” I murmur close to Oli’s ear, steering us toward the haven of our tour bus. She leans into me, her warmth a balm to the chaotic churn of my thoughts.
