Page 179 of Graves

—

Aran

The crowd goes wild as I rip off my sweat-soaked T-shirt after the third encore and wipe my face with it. The spotlights blaze against my skin, and the air in the venue feels like it’s about to ignite.

Even with my forearms still wrapped in black bandages, I’m sweating more than usual. Still, I’m grateful I recovered enough in the last two weeks to even make it through this show.

Luckily, we’re going down well with the Nightstalker fans. Apparently, word has also spread that this would be the last Grave Sinner concert. Liam heard the tickets were going for up to five hundred dollars on the black market.

At least I can honestly say it was worth every cent. The show took everything out of me, but of all five gigs, this one was easily the best.

Knowing I can finally enjoy my freedom afterward has removed the iron ball I’ve been dragging behind me since my release.

The past few days have been unforgettable. What’s growing between Koh and me scares the hell out of me at times—I want to hide—but it also gives me a sense of safety I’ve never known before.

We’ve spent every free minute together, mostly at his new apartment. We walked Pixie, he showed me his siblings’ gym, and every evening he cooked the best food in all of New York. I look back on a week full of wonderful conversations and hot sex, and I can hardly believe how much more of this still lies ahead of us.

I sing the songs I know Koh understands better than anyone else just for him—from the bottom of my heart.

“Are you ready for the last song?!”

“No!” the audience screams in unison.

I laugh and step to the edge of the stage. “Guys! We have to make room for Nightstalker, or they’ll chase us off eventually.”

“We want Grave Sinner!” comes the reply.

“I know every goodbye is hard, but believe me, I’ll carry this one in my heart forever. The energy tonight was incredible. I really appreciate it, and I’m so grateful. It’s not a given that a guy like me gets to come out of prison and still be celebrated like this. Thank you.”

My words settle the crowd a little, and they listen attentively.

“Yeah,” I continue. “There’s no sugarcoating it. But I hope you can understand when I say that after five years in prison, I first need a moment to just breathe.”

I take a few steps and fight back a smile when I spot Koh standing on the side with Nahla. It’s hard to tear my eyes away from him. With every day we spend together, the man gets more attractive and I get more insatiable.

“Before things get too melancholic, I just want to say—guys! This show has been so much fun!”

The noise level rises again as the crowd cheers euphorically.

“So here’s the last song! Let’s do this, Liam!”

Liam launches into a thunderous drum solo, and Sam and Mike join in as we launch into “Raise Your Hands”—the song we’ve always closed with, the one the audience loves to sing along to.

No matter how much we stretch it out, the moment of farewell comes. We stand together at the front of the stage and take one final bow.

I never thought I’d get the chance to say a proper goodbye to my audience and my fans.

After what happened with Ben, I tried to kill myself. As soon as I was back on my feet, I ended up in pretrial detention. The way I left the stage was anything but glorious, and I was ashamed of it.

“Thank you, everyone! It was an honor,” are the last words I say into the mic. I wave to the crowd one more time and follow Mike off the stage.

I’m so emotional I can barely believe this was our fifth and final gig.

Sweaty and buzzing, we fall into each other’s arms, congratulating one another on a great show. Liam pops the corks while I stick to soda. I clink cups with the guys.

The dressing room fills up. Even Leslie and Douglas let themselves be poured a glass. When I turn around, Tristan James and his guitarist walk in. I nearly choke when Tristan comes toward me with a big grin.

“Holy shit,” I cough. “Tristan fucking James.”