Page 99 of Knot My Band: Part Two
And then, we sing.
Our voices rise and fall, weaving together in a harmony so pure it feels like destiny. His baritone timbre melds with my lilting melody, an intricate dance of sound that fills every corner of the venue. It’s magic, raw and beautiful—the kind that can’t be bottled or sold, only felt.
The audience erupts, their cheers crashing over us in waves of adoration. They’re on their feet, hands in the air, riding the high of the moment alongside us. I can see it in their faces—the way the song hits home, tugging at heartstrings, drawing out emotions they didn’t know were there.
“Can you feel that?” I whisper during a pause where Chase plays a solo, swept up in the euphoria blanketing the crowd. The echo of our voices still hangs in the air.
“Every note,” Aiden breathes, and there’s wonder in his voice, a shared awe at the connection sparking to life between us and the sea of faces before us.
It’s more than a duet; it’s a declaration, a forging of something unstoppable. And as the last harmonies fade into rapturous applause, I know this is just the beginning.
The audience is still buzzing from the duet; their enthusiasm is a living thing that dances in the space between us. I drink it in, letting their love seep into my bones and fizz through my veins. It’s heady, this feeling of absolute connection, and for a moment, I’m weightless, floating on a sea of cheers and wide-eyed grins.
“Did you all enjoy that?” I shout into the mic, teasing them with a wink. Their response is a collective roar that would put the mightiest of lions to shame. My heart swells so big I worry it might burst out of my chest. “Because we’re just getting started!”
And then we’re off, diving headfirst into the next song.
The alphas behind me are a force of nature, their presence grounding yet lifting me higher. Like stars, they burn brightly, each adding their own color to the blaze. And I’m right there in the center, the heart of the constellation, drawing them in, pushing them out, a gravitational pull that keeps this universe spinning.
“London, you are bloody incredible!” My voice is a raw, exhilarated rasp, brimming with the high of the performance. I sweep a glance over my bandmates, catching Dax’s rare, satisfied smirk—it’s like spotting a shooting star—fleeting and magical. We share a look, understanding without words the rush of this shared victory.
“Thank you for being part of this night—the start of something epic!” It’s more than gratitude; it’s a promise of all the nights to come, of all the songs still humming under our skin, waiting to be set free.
I step back, one hand reaching for the sky, fingers spread wide as if to catch the remnants of our music floating there.
With a final wave, we turn, exiting the stage as a unit, a family forged in fire and melody.
Backstage is a rush of heat and racing hearts, the sounds of the crowd a sweet echo in our ears as we burst through the curtains.
“Damn, Oli, you killed it out there!” Jack’s grin is as infectious as his energy, and I can’t help but throw my arms around him, the scent of coffee and pastries a heady mix with the sweat of the show.
“Only because I had the best alphas backing me up,” I shoot back, my voice still thrumming with the high of the stage.
“Best damn omega leading us,” Dax counters, that grumpy edge softened by the adrenaline coursing through us all. His gaze holds mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary, hazel eyes burning bright with something unspoken yet felt deep in my bones.
“Group hug?” Aiden suggests, his normally quiet voice amplified in the tight circle we’ve formed. He’s always been reserved, but tonight, the music has drawn him out, pulling at the threads of his shyness to reveal the strength beneath.
This group hug thing has become our new signature, and I love it.
“Bring it in,” Chase says, winking, the playboy charm he’s so famous for now rounded out with a genuine warmth. He wraps his arms around us, limbs finding purchase as we press close, a tangle of limbs and shared exhilaration.
“Remember this moment,” I whisper against the fabric of someone’s shirt, not sure whose. “We have forever after this.”
Aiden
ALPHA TEA GOSSIP COLUMN
THE EDGE AND OLI HART COMBINE AND ANNOUNCE NEW NAME: THE HART’S EDGE
July 5th
The bass still thumps in my chest as we spill out into the busy backstage. Oli’s laughter dances over the hum of conversation, her rose gold waves catching the light like liquid fire. She’s the sun in our little universe, and we’re all just planets caught in her gravity.
“Did you see them headbanging during the bridge?” she beams, green eyes sparkling with delight.
“Couldn’t miss it,” I reply, my voice quieter than the rest. The sound of my keyboard lingers in my fingers, a phantom sensation that keeps the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
We navigate the crowd, a small pack moving as one. There’s a sense of invincibility among us, the high of our performance making us feel untouchable. It’s moments like these, surrounded by my pack, that I can let my guard down and bask in the shared triumph.
