Chapter 1

The air backstage at the stadium didn’t smell like music; it smelled like sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. It was a heavy, suffocating atmosphere, thick with the hum of a thousand generators and the distant, muffled roar of thirty thousand people waiting for the main act. I adjusted the strap of my clutch, my fingers trembling slightly against the cool leather. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. My father had sent the text, brief and commanding: *Come to the private wing. Door 4. Come alone.* I had come. I always came. The corridor leading to the VIP dressing rooms was a labyrinth of concrete and cinder block, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent strips that buzzed like angry hornets. The floor was sticky, likely from spilled beer or sweat dripped by the roadies hauling gear. I could hear the bass thumping through the walls, a rhythmic pounding that vibrated in my teeth, syncing with the rapid flutter of my own heart. It was a primal sound, a heartbeat for the beast that was the concert, but for me, it was just the backdrop to the anticipation of seeing him. I turned the corner into