Page 80 of Chasing Lyric
Just like in the song, I’m walking away from the past and into my new life. Singing, performing—it’s all in the background. Andas I open my mouth, the words come out with so much passion, so much meaning and emotion that I know I’m doing the right thing, so I sing my little heart out. I glance at the back of the room, seeing the pride on Chase’s face. It fills me with warmth that I can make him look at me this way. I’m singing the best I can forhimbecause I know this will be the only time he sees me on stage.
The lights are glaring, and the smoke machine blasts candy-smelling smoke into the crowd, who are swaying to and fro with the music. I’m giving it my all. The entire bar watches me with awe colored eyes. I don’t like the attention, but I’m singing this for Chase, and the way he’s looking at me right now makes me feel like a queen.
I sing the notes with ease, and belt the lyrics out like I wrote them. The song’s perfect for me, for this moment, for my life at this point in time. I take it up a notch, putting everything I have into it while the crowd starts to cheer and react.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man storming into the bar like he’s on a mission. He’s pushing through everyone, causing some people to fall forward and spill their drinks. I can’t see who he is, only that he’s definitely heading toward Chase, Dax, and Rory. I tense but continue as I stand taller, watching while Chase tries to pull the man to the back of the room, but it doesn’t work, and the mystery man turns to face me.
It’s dark. I can’t make out his face as I sing the final verse, but I feel his presence like a pressure in the air, solid, unmoving, watching. His arms are crossed, and his posture loosens just slightly, but mine does the exact opposite. My spine locks up, tension creeping into my shoulders, into my throat, into every note I push out. My voice trembles at the edges, but I force the song to its completion.
The bar erupts in applause, loud and chaotic, but all I hear is the high-pitched ringing in my ears. My heart thunders, fast and uneven, drowning out everything else. I blink hard, trying to clear the blurry edge creeping into my vision.
Who the hell is he?
My palms are damp. My breath becomes short. I stumble off the stage faster than I probably should, my legs unsteady and stiff.
Rory suddenly appears at my side like she’s been waiting for this exact moment. “C’mon, sweets, we gotta go.” Her hand grabs mine, tugging with urgency. But my gaze snags on the back of the room, on Chase, on Dax, andthat manI still can’t see clearly. The three of them are arguing, voices sharp and intense, bodies tight with confrontation.
Panic clutches my chest like a fist.
Nope.
Not walking away from this.
Not when something feels so off, my skin is practically crawling.
I shake Rory off, my pulse rocketing as I charge toward the back of the room. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I need to get closer. I need to know who that man is. And why my body is reacting like it remembers something my mind hasn’t caught up with yet.
“Lyric, please, don’t go over there,” Rory begs, her grip tightening around my arm.
But it’s too late. Something in her voice has already sunk sharp needles into my spine, turning my limbs to ice. My ears ring with phantom warning bells as I look into her eyes, wide, fearful, pleading, and suddenly I’m terrified too.
Terrified of what I’ll find.
Of what I already know.
Still, I pull away.
I move through the bar like I’m underwater, the applause from my performance melting into static. The crowd claps, some call my name, but I don’t react. My pulse pounds too loudly, drowning everything out except the sight of the three men locked in a heated exchange up ahead.
Chase, Dax, and someone else.
Someone shadowed until he turns, and the light catches his face.
My heart stops.
My stomach twists so violently I nearly collapse.
I know that face.
I’ve seen him in interviews.
Online articles.
Music industry headlines.
“Lyric,” the man says with a smile that makes my skin crawl. He extends his hand as if this were a business meeting, not a betrayal.
“I’m Chase Covington Sr., President of Ego Star Productions. You have quite the voice.”
