8. Chapter 8 Damon

Chapter 8 Damon

T he tires of my Camaro screamed as I tore out of the Rowe Records parking lot, gravel spraying in my wake like shrapnel from a bomb blast.

Because that's what had just happened up in Cyrus's chrome and glass tower of ego - a fucking detonation that left nothing but scorched earth and shell casings.

Phoenix's words still echoed in my head, each syllable a gunshot. "I quit."

Fuck. My hands clenched on the steering wheel, the leather creaking in protest. She'd nuked her entire career, her whole goddamn life, for what? For me? Some gutter rat guitarist with a shady past and a shit ton of baggage?

I didn't know whether to laugh or put my fist through the windshield. Maybe both.

The speedometer crept past 90 as I wove through the Miami traffic, chasing the sun as it sank into the bay. Angry horns blared, tires screeched, but I didn't give a shit. I needed speed, needed violence. Needed to outrun the riptide of emotions threatening to suck me under and leave me gutted.

The look on Phoenix's face when she stood up to her father, the grim determination in her eyes as she severed the chains he'd bound her with for so long... it was seared into my brain, a brand of fierce, defiant beauty.

And it had lit a fuse inside me, one soaked in gasoline and just begging for a match. Every instinct howled for me to storm back into that office, to make Cyrus pay for every ounce of pain he'd ever inflicted on her.

But I hadn't. Because she'd needed me to walk away, to let her fight this battle on her own terms. Even though it went against every cell in my body not to shield her, to put myself between her and the vicious, grasping world, I'd respected her choice.

And Jesus, had she delivered.

My lips twitched, a dark ghost of a smile. There in that plush corporate battlefield, my phoenix had spread her wings and set her past ablaze. And it was glorious, incandescent.

Almost enough to eclipse the fear churning like battery acid in my gut.

Because I knew this was just the beginning. Cyrus wasn't going to let his prized possession just walk away. There'd be hell to pay, and I had a sick feeling Phoenix would be the one left bleeding.

Unless I made sure that didn't happen.

I swung the Camaro into the gravel lot behind Zane's place, killing the engine with a brutal twist. The sudden silence was a gunshot, the acrid stench of burnt rubber harsh in my nose.

I didn't bother knocking, just shouldered through the splintered door with a creaking groan of hinges. Zane looked up from the guts of an amp, eyebrow cocked. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it.

"Thought you were at the studio today," he said mildly, setting down his soldering iron. "Laying down those new tracks for the album."

"Change of plans." My voice grated like sandpaper, raw and clotted with debris.

Zane studied me for a long moment, those dark eyes missing nothing. "This have anything to do with a certain redhead?"

I blew out a breath, dragging a hand down my face. Trust Zane to cut right to the fucking quick.

"Phoenix quit Rowe Records. Told her old man to shove it right there in his corner office."

The words tasted bitter, jagged with fury and something softer, more vulnerable. Something I wasn't ready to name.

Zane let out a low whistle. "Damn, D. That takes some serious stones."

I just shook my head, pacing like a caged wolf. Everything inside me felt too hot, too tight. Like my skin couldn't contain the seething mass of emotions roiling through my veins.

"Her dad... Fuck, man. The way she talked about him, the things she hinted at..." I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did nothing to erase the specter of old bruises, the echoes of long-healed fractures.

"I think he's been hurting her, Zane. For god knows how long. And she's just been... surviving. Alone."

Zane was silent, processing. I could practically hear the wheels turning, the calculations clicking into place.

"What are you going to do?" he asked finally, his tone careful. Measured.

I barked a laugh, harsh and humorless.

"What I wanted to do the second I saw the fear in her eyes." My fingers curled into fists, the split knuckles throbbing. "I'm going to bury him. Dig up every bit of dirt, every shady deal, and fucking crucify him with it."

Zane nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "And Phoenix? Where does she fit into this little crusade of yours?"

The question hit like a punch to the solar plexus. Where did she fit? Everywhere. Nowhere. In every fractured shard of my blackened heart, but so far out of reach it might as well be a different galaxy.

"I don't know," I admitted, the words grinding like glass between my teeth. "She's... Fuck, Zane. She's everything."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, suddenly exhausted. Hollowed out.

"I have to protect her. Have to keep her safe, even if it means..." I swallowed hard, the next words a razorblade sliding up my throat. "Even if it means walking away."

The thought made me want to howl, to tear at my hair and rend my skin until the agony inside had somewhere to escape. But I knew, with a leaden certainty, that it might be the only way.

Phoenix had already sacrificed so much, burnt her life to the ground just to stand at my side. I couldn't let her become collateral damage in the war I was about to wage. Couldn't let the bloodstained ghosts of my past rise up and drag her into the abyss.

Even if cutting her loose destroyed me, I'd do it. I'd light the fucking match and immolate myself on the pyre of her freedom.

Because she was worth it. Worth every scar, every hollow place carved into my wretched soul.

And I'd walk through hell itself to keep her from the flames.

Zane crossed the space between us, gripping my shoulder with calloused fingers. "We're with you, D. Ride or die."

The words were a vow, fierce and unbending. The bond of brothers, battle-forged and thicker than blood.

I met his gaze, saw the steadfast loyalty, the glint of tempered steel. And for a moment, the weight on my chest eased, the iron bands constricting my lungs releasing their hold.

I wasn't alone in this. I had my boys, my band of misfit warriors. Together, we'd taken on the world, carved our names into the annals of rock history with sweat and raw, bleeding defiance.

What was one more demon to slay, one more beast to topple? We were renegades, after all. Exiles sharpened to a killing edge.

And now, we had a new mission. A crusade to remake hell in our image and watch it burn.

For Phoenix, I'd raze empires. Tear down gods.

And if I had to fall on my own sword to keep her breathing free...

So be it.

A grim smile curved my lips, a skeletal slash in the gathering dark. Let the war drums sound, the battle lines be drawn in blood and ash.

Cyrus Rowe had no idea the maelstrom he'd unleashed. The fury he'd called down upon his house of cards, his crumbling kingdom built on tears and suffering.

I'd be his reckoning. His pale rider, come to collect the devil's due and rain fire from the blackened heavens.

And when the smoke cleared, when the rubble settled... Phoenix would rise. Triumphant. Eternal. A goddess of flame and fury, with the world kneeling at her feet.

It was a beautiful dream, sharp and glittering as broken glass. A shard of perfection lodged beneath my ribs, cutting me to crimson ribbons with every shuddering breath.

But for her, I'd bleed. I'd shatter.

I'd burn.

Because in the end, a phoenix could only be born from the ashes of devastation. Could only spread her wings and soar once the pyre had done its scorching work.

And I? I was the spark. The accelerant. The inferno incarnate, poised to consume us both and leave nothing but embers in our wake.

So let the conflagration begin. Let the streets run red and the heavens weep.

Cyrus wanted a war?

I'd give him a fucking apocalypse.

The day bled into night and a haze of weed, whiskey and discordant chords, the walls of Zane's garage reverberating with the savage soundtrack of my fury.

We played until our fingers bled, until the strings cut welts into my skin and the drums echoed the relentless pounding behind my eyes.

Jax and Ty had shown up sometime after midnight, their faces tight with unspoken questions. But one look at the storm clouds gathering in my expression and they'd simply plugged in and let the music do the talking.

It was a language we all understood, the primal scream of pain and rage and all the things too jagged to put into words. We poured it into the instruments, into the blistering riffs and thunderous basslines, until the very air crackled with the force of it.

Somewhere in the maelstrom, lyrics began to take shape. Raw, visceral, drenched in blood and anguish. I scratched them into a battered notebook, the pages smeared with ink and sweat and the salt of tears I refused to acknowledge.

Phoenix was woven through every line, every snarled verse and aching chorus .

She was the muse, the siren call, the blade between my ribs. I couldn't get her out of my head, couldn't cauterize the wound. She'd become a part of me, as vital as breath and twice as necessary.

And fuck, it terrified me. The depth of it, the sheer, inescapable need. I'd never craved anything the way I craved her. Not the rush of the stage, the roar of the crowd. Not even the sweet, seductive burn of the needle, back in my darkest days.

She was my new addiction, my personal brand of heroin. And I knew, with a junkie's certainty, that withdrawal might very well be the death of me.

But what choice did I have? To stay in her orbit, to let this thing between us run its course... it would destroy her. Taint her with my poison, the rot that festered in my marrow.

Phoenix deserved better than the ashes I had to offer. Better than the charred husk of a man, too broken and battle-scarred to ever be whole.

So I'd keep my distance. I'd lick my wounds in private and let her rise from the rubble of her old life, radiant and reborn. Even if it shattered me, even if it left me bleeding out in the dirt... I'd let her go.

But not yet. Not tonight. Tonight, I was weak. Selfish. Tonight, I needed her like I needed my next heartbeat.

With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone and tapped out a message. A lifeline thrown into the churning sea, a flare fired high into the starless sky.

"Need to see you. Please."

I hit send before I could think better of it, before the last, tattered shreds of my self-control could intervene. The response came almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting, phone in hand, for my electronic SOS.

"Where? "

I blew out a breath, something tight and painful unfurling behind my ribs. She hadn't ignored me. Hadn't told me to fuck off and leave her in peace. It was more than I deserved, more than I'd dared to hope for.

Quickly, I typed out the address of a spot I knew. A place where the world fell away and the noise in my head quieted to a distant hum. A place where, just maybe, I could say the things that clawed at my throat and made my pulse thunder like a war drum.

I hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, my thumb hovering over the glowing screen. This was a mistake. I knew it in my bones, in the clamoring voices that whispered of ruin and damnation.

But god help me, I didn't care. Not now, not with the memory of her eyes, her scent, her searing touch branded into every cell of my being.

I hit send, sealing my fate and hers with the press of a button. The die was cast, the Rubicon crossed.

And come hell or high water, I'd see it through. I'd drink the poison and sign my name to the devil's bargain.

For one more night with Phoenix in my arms, I'd burn the whole fucking world to ash and call it a fair trade.

With a final, shuddering exhalation, I shoved to my feet and grabbed my jacket. Zane glanced up from his beer, a question in the quirk of his brow.

"I'm heading out," I said, the words rough and choked to my own ears. "Don't wait up."

He just nodded, understanding and sorrow mingling in the depths of his gaze. He knew, better than anyone, the price I was about to pay. The pound of flesh I was carving from my own hide.

But he didn't try to stop me. Didn't offer platitudes or warnings or any of the things a saner, steadier friend might have.

Because he was my brother, in all the ways that mattered. And he knew, as surely as I did, that some roads had to be walked alone. Some crosses had to be borne in solitude, the splinters digging deep and drawing blood with every halting step.

This was my Calvary, my Via Dolorosa. And I'd be damned if I'd let anyone else shoulder the weight.

So I walked out of that garage and into the waiting night, my boots crunching on gravel and my heart a leaden thing behind my ribs.

I slid behind the wheel of my Camaro, the engine snarling to life like a beast scenting prey. The dashboard lights cast a hellish glow, painting my skin in shades of blood and fire.

Fitting, I thought with a grim twist of my lips. A preview of the inferno to come.

I peeled out of the lot, tires screaming and smoke billowing in my wake. The city blurred past, a smear of neon and chrome, the pulse of it matching the roar of blood in my ears.

I pushed the pedal to the floor, chasing oblivion, chasing absolution. Chasing the searing, impossible girl who'd crashed into my life and set my soul ablaze.

And as the miles melted away and the night closed in, I let the hunger consume me. Let it burn through my veins like holy fire, bright and fierce and all-consuming.

Come dawn, I'd face the consequences. I'd reap the whirlwind and choke on the ashes.

But tonight?

Tonight, I'd ride the lightning. I'd dance on the edge of the blade and laugh as it cut me to ribbons.

Tonight, I'd hold my phoenix close and pretend the flames weren't already licking at our heels.

Even if it damned me.

Even if it destroyed me.

For her, I'd burn.

And I'd do it with a fucking smile.