Rock Revenge (Rock Revenge Trilogy 1)

Not like the world gave me a chance to forget.

I pulled open the glass door inscribed with the emblem of Donovan Lewis’s pride and joy and stepped into another world.

Cool, almost cold. It was as if the April heat outside had just been a hazy dream. My shoes whispered over the tiled floors, and even the loose sole barely made a sound.

The closer I got to the center of the hive of the weirdly shaped building, the more I couldn’t resist

rubbing over the bandage on my inner forearm. The gold albums on the pristine walls made my gut churn. I didn’t have time to linger. For fuck’s sake, I’d busted my ass to get here and I was worth the shot.

Maybe if I told myself that enough times it would be true.

But those shiny discs encased in glass drew my eye even as I pressed harder against the bandage to remind myself to fucking breathe.

I scanned for names I knew. But there was only one that mattered.

Hammered had multiples. A good band. Decent sound. Not necessarily my cup of tea. I was a critical fucker. Other names I knew of vaguely. The Grunge. Wilder Mind. Warning Sign.

My breath tripped. Getting closer.

All along the top row, they taunted me with their sheen. So many.

That word again and again.

Oblivion.

Millions of albums sold.

Millions of dollars made.

My brother had done that. Oh, sure, Simon wasn’t a solo artist. He was part of an ensemble. All important segments of a whole bigger than the sum of its pieces.

But Simon was their star. Their jewel. Without him, they wouldn’t have gotten all those shiny gold albums. They sure as fuck wouldn’t be selling out arenas all over the world.

A strange sort of pride filled my chest, swelling up from a place I’d thought was long buried. I pulled off the bandage, stuffing it in my pocket. My sleeve would hide the mark.

Another lie I told myself.

I stroked the circle of charred skin, not stopping until the ache burned in my stomach and killed the odd emotion I had no business feeling.

My brother, but not.

Family, but not.

I would always be an outsider, whether or not I used my brother’s name to slip into these vaunted halls.

My name.

Almost unconsciously, I wandered along the wall, tracing the framed discs, imagining the day I would see my own name. Because I would.

I would prevail because if I didn’t, I would die. Figuratively and literally.

I hustled past the circular counter in the reception area, following the long hallway without thought or intention, my eyes blurring from the shine that held me hostage. The voices barely reached me at first. A tangle of female tones. One sharp, one lower and husky. An odd sort of music between them. Discordant.

“I know what you’re doing, Li. I appreciate and love you for it, but do you really think I’m that naive?” The raspy peal of laughter had me whipping around to locate the source.

There were a scatter of doors. Conference rooms, probably. Maybe offices, but those would be more likely to be tucked away. Maybe. I didn’t know how any of this worked.

My flight from London—paid for with my next few months’ rent—had delivered me into a different world. Now I had to figure out how to survive in it.