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Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2) 35. Raina 97%
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35. Raina

“ W hat do you mean they were chanting Tristan’s name?” I practically shout the question, my heart rate shooting through the roof. It feels like we’ve been waiting to find him for a lifetime now, unable to do much at all to help in the search.

Now I find out my fans were chanting his name after I left the stage while I was what? Too busy getting in a fight with that little twat Carmen?

I fist my hands at my sides, wanting to scream my fucking head off. What’s that saying? One step forward and two steps back? Only in my life it’s one good thing happens and two shitty as fuck follow behind it.

An image of a handful of pills and the calmness of the sea flash into my head. Intrusive thoughts, I know. But there is a reason why I thought death was the best way out of this fucked up life.

Darius’ mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shrugs his shoulder and gestures to the phone in his other hand. “StormChasertok,” he says as if that explains it all.

“Let me see that,” Nash quips, grabbing the phone right out of his hand.

Before he even told me about the fans, Darius had turned his headphones off, which means when Nash hits play, we hear the sound from the video filling the bus. I snuggle next to him, watching the screen intently. It loops back to the beginning and we hear the chanting in the background when the fan says, “Oh my god, Tristan is actually here! I can’t believe I’ll see him reunited with Raina.”

The camera flips around and zooms in on Tris. Nash’s thumb hits the glass as I grab the phone from him, pausing the video so I can see my ex-best friend’s face.

“It’s him. It’s really him,” I whisper.

“Why is he watching the concert like that?” Blake asks, leaning over my shoulder. “Why didn’t he try to contact us? Clearly, they were trying to get our attention with this stunt.”

“What if he couldn’t?” Keaton asks.

I drop my hand into my lap and stare at him for a second, blinking slowly. “Why wouldn’t he be able to get a hold of us?”

Keaton smiles at me, and I’m reminded of how he told me he loves me. I can see it in the way he looks at me, shining from his eyes as they trace over my skin.

“You’ve blocked any numbers from getting through unless they are in your contacts. You don’t run any of your official social media accounts and you filter out your name from your feeds. He doesn’t know about Izzy, and we know Alyssa wouldn’t help him.” His reasoning leaves me stunned.

“Wow. I think he’s doubled the number of words I’ve heard him speak,” Darius mumbles. None of us comment on it, though. Keaton’s decision not to speak much doesn’t need an explanation.

“Fuck,” I breathe out. “You’re right.”

All this time, I assumed he’d contact one of us if he could. How fucking dumb of me.

I scramble to find my phone and call Gill.

“Hey, girlie, what can I do for you?” she greets, a mix of friendly and professional that I appreciate.

Briefly, I wonder if I should’ve called Izzy right off the bat, but I know she has a lot going on with my stolen music, and discard the thought as quickly as it comes.

“Tristan was at the show last night trying to get our attention. We need to make sure there’s backstage passes waiting for him at the next show. Make sure security knows what he looks like so they don’t give him any trouble. And… I don’t even know what else. I just want my friend back.”

“Absolutely,” she quickly replies. The confidence in her voice instantly calms my frazzled nerves. “If he’s there, I’ll make sure he gets to you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you.”

I know it’s her job, but I can’t help but believe she doesn’t see it that way. She’s as genuine as Izzy. How I lucked into them I’ll never know.

“Thanks, Gill.” I end the call and take a deep breath, wanting to rid myself of the desperation coursing through me to do something, anything, but not knowing what the hell it could be.

“That’s your Tristan?” Darius says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I respond with a little too much attitude in my voice. Yeah , like he’s stupid for not knowing what he looks like, but in reality, it’s our fault for not showing him a picture.

“Sorry,” I mumble when he looks at me, shock written across his face. “I’m letting the stress get to me, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

He scoots closer, his hands reaching for my shoulders. “Turn around. Let me help you.”

“Hands off. I can do that,” Nash insists, his jealousy rearing its head.

“Family helps relieve stress,” Dare throws back at him, referencing the conversation we had last night. I let them know about the conversation I had with him, leaving out the part where I thought about what it would be like to kiss him.

Although I’m sure Keaton knows about that. He was standing behind us when we turned around. I should’ve expected that he would stay close, always making sure I’m protected like an unofficial guard.

I blushed when I saw him there with his arms crossed, but surprisingly, he didn’t look mad.

“Fine,” Nash mumbles, not happy with it but conceding.

“We didn’t get to circle back yet, but he’s the guy in those videos for Team Tristan.” His hands knead at my tense muscles, but I’m whipping around to grab his phone again.

“What? Let me see.” Grabbing his phone, I find it’s thankfully still unlocked, showing my bestie’s face. Ex-bestie? Fuck . I don’t know what we are to each other right now, but we need to fix that.

At the bottom of the video is a list of hashtags and I click on the stupid Twilight one that will now follow me for the rest of my life. Damn it .

The screen loads a new page with several videos on it using the same hashtag and I scroll, searching for his face again. It doesn’t take me long to find it. His brown hair and green eyes draw me in, staring into the camera with that infuriating smirk that makes me want to slap him.

Where have you been Tristan and why are you making videos instead of playing with us on stage? I glare daggers at the phone for a moment as Darius works at my tense muscles. Then, after taking a deep breath, I click on his handle. Trisluvslexie.

I stare at it until Dare’s phone dims and I have to tap on the screen to keep it from locking. My mind is transported to a time when he had to make a name for some stupid game on his phone. I’m not even sure what it was anymore, but he turned his phone around and asked me what I thought of the user name.

It was the first time he said he loved me. It wasn’t out loud or direct or even really obvious, but it was there, spelled out in his username. Tristan loves Lexie. He’d shown it to me with a lopsided grin and wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for my reaction.

My cheeks heat with the memory of the blush I tried to hide from him. I let my hair fall around my face as I mumbled some kind of approval, but he saw through it. His finger grazed my cheek as he tucked my hair behind my ear and then brushed a kiss in the same spot.

We were thirteen, and it makes my heart pound as quickly now as it did back then.

Clicking on the flash to the past, I find his page filled with videos. They’re labeled with a banner across them. The latest says “Day 9 Groveling Tour”

I’m about to click on it when there’s a strong banging on the door. My gut instantly cramps.

“Whoever that is, don’t let them in,” Darius says, doubling his efforts on my shoulders.

Blake lowers his phone to look at us. “What? Why?”

“Because her shoulders are now twice as tense as they were when I started.” His hands fall as I move on the couch, so we are sitting next to each other instead. I’d go for the door simply to get it over with if I thought my legs could carry me without shaking and giving me up.

“Can we pretend like we aren’t here?” Nash whispers. I’m not sure if he actually knows who it is or if he simply doesn’t want any interruptions on our quiet morning.

Blake looks at Nash and shakes his head, standing and getting the door. The moment it’s open, Dickless steps inside like he owns the place without ever even being invited in. “Leave. I need to speak with my niece alone.”

Nobody moves. Not to follow his instructions at least. Blake finds his seat again and pushes his glasses up his nose. Keaton stands behind him with his arms crossed. And Dare, I could kiss that man. He puts his feet on the couch, making sure there isn’t a free spot to sit.

“Raina, we need to speak alone. Tell your band to get out, so we have some privacy.” Dickless scowls at the men around me before pinning me in place with the full force of his attention. He waits for me to do as he ordered, not realizing I have no intentions of doing that at all.

“They aren’t bandmates, Uncle. They’re my family. And you kicked me out of yours long ago. So if you want to share what you have to say, you’ll do it in front of them or you can discuss it with my manager instead,” I retort, gathering every ounce of courage I have left.

A darkness crosses over his face. I can’t describe exactly what changes about his features, but he’s finally showing his true colors. His mask is off and he doesn’t care who sees what he keeps hidden.

“You need to drop the lawsuit, Raina. It doesn’t look cute that you’re bullying a new artist.” He steps as close as he can to me so he’s towering over me, but Darius rests his hand on my thigh, and Nash on my other side has his arm around me, both of them bolstering my strength.

“And why would I do that?” I ask him, maintaining my composure despite the fear brewing in the pit of my stomach. He doesn’t scare me anymore; instead, he disgusts me. The cycle of control, manipulation, and abuse ends today.

“Because,” he starts with an unsettling calmness in his voice, “if you don’t, I can guarantee your career will suffer consequences.”

This isn’t the first time he’s threatened to ruin me, but this time I have my family to back me up. I have a team that will go to battle for me. And I have fans that are loyal beyond measure.

Something in me snaps at his thinly veiled threat. Years of bending to his will and bearing the brunt of his persistent bullying rages inside me like a torrential storm. My eyes meet Keaton’s across the room. His quiet strength radiates reassuringly towards me, fueling me with courage.

“Is that a threat?” I retort sharply, maintaining my gaze on him. “You know what? Save it! I’m done playing your games.”

I watch as shock ripples over his face, quickly replaced by twisted rage. He didn’t expect resistance from me—a foolish miscalculation on his part.

“Oh, aren’t we brave today?” he sneers, stepping closer. But Nash and Darius stand in unison, flanking me in a protective stance.

“You don’t get to intimidate her anymore,” Nash states flatly, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a fierce protectiveness.

“You have stolen enough from me through the years. This time you walked into my home and pilfered my very personal lyrics from my notebook without permission. I won’t be backing down. So if that’s all you came here for, then you have your answer.” I practically spit every word at him, my body vibrating with the fury and anguish I’ve kept hidden for five years.

“We have a contract and you still owe me one more album. Those songs belong to the label,” he tries to argue, but I hold my hand up to stop him. There’s no doubt in my mind he fed Carmen those lines, and I don’t need to hear them again.

“I suggest you reevaluate things, Uncle . Because I’d hate to have to expand my lawsuit to involve other things you’ve stolen from me.“ This time it’s my turn to flip the tables and threaten him. My fear of him fully chased off, knowing I’m not alone.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, little girl. I created the phenomenon behind the name Raina, and I can end you just as easily.”

“No,” I interrupt him, rising to my feet. “You didn’t create Raina. You manipulated a scared teenager, isolated her from everything she loved, drugged her, controlled her every move and thought you could keep doing it forever. But guess what? That teenager grew up. She found her strength and voice. She survived you .”

He scoffs. “Do you really believe you can make it in this industry without me?” A laugh spills out of him like he thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a long time.

“I survived you,” I repeat, my voice steadying with the resolve I find with every second that ticks by. “Everything else will be a cakewalk.”

“And let me tell you something you clearly don’t understand,” I continue, my tone venomous as it cuts through the tense silence in the room. “Just because you stick a label on something doesn’t make it yours. Those songs? They’re mine. This band? It’s ours. You might have forged my name into a brand, but Raina is more than your industry puppet.”

“Angel…” his voice carries an eerie softness now, “Don’t burn your bridges.”

“I’m not burning bridges, Uncle ,“ I reply sharply. “I’m severing ties.”

He scoffs as he takes in my adamant face and the stony expressions of the men standing behind me. “You’re making a big mistake.”

Dickless storms out of the bus, his aura leaving a frigid chill in its wake.

“That was intense,” Nash whistles, running a hand through his hair.

“Understatement of the century,” Blake mumbles as I exhale a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

Keaton crosses the space and kneels in front of me. He reaches out to catch my gaze. The raw appreciation, the proud glint in his eyes, turns my insides to mush. “Raina,” he murmurs quietly so only I can hear him, “that was brave.”

I give him a small smile and nod appreciatively. “You helped me find that bravery.”

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