Chapter 23 23

Chapter 23 23
LYRA

The bass from the club seeped into my bones before I even stepped inside, the sound heavy and thick like a second heartbeat, and I paused at the entrance with my hand on the cold metal handle, breathing in slow because I already felt raw tonight and the last thing I needed was to fall apart in front of a crowd that only wanted a show.

“You are on in ten,” Mira said from behind me, her voice sharp but not unkind. “You good?”

I turned to her and forced a smile that felt stiff on my face. “I am always good.”

She studied me like she did not believe a word of it. “You sure because you look like you might stab someone with your heel.”

I let out a short laugh. “That would be bad for business.”

“Lyra,” she said, lowering her voice, stepping closer. “Whatever is going on with you, leave it out there. The stage is sacred.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I know.”

But knowing did not mean I could do it.

I moved through the hallway toward the dressing room, my boots echoing against the floor, my reflection flashing in the mirrors as I passed, glittering costume, dark eyes, red lips, a version of me that always looked stronger than I felt. I stopped in front of my mirror and stared at myself like I was looking at a stranger.

“Get it together,” I whispered. “You are not a child.”

But the truth was ugly and simple and it would not go away.

Jaxon still would not talk to me.

Days had passed and he had looked through me like I was nothing, like all the years and all the words and all the nights we spent talking until dawn had meant absolutely nothing. Every time I saw him my chest hurt in a way that made it hard to breathe, and the worst part was not the anger, it was the confusion.

I did not know what I had done wrong.

I picked up my phone from the table and stared at his name, unread messages stacked under it like silent accusations. I did not send anything. I already knew it would not change a thing.

Mira clapped her hands once. “Two minutes.”

“I am coming,” I said.

The music outside shifted, the crowd roaring louder, and I rolled my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and stepped into the wings. The lights were blinding and warm, the smell of sweat and alcohol thick in the air, and when the curtain lifted, the noise crashed over me like a wave.

I walked onto the stage slowly, letting the music build, letting my body remember what it had done a thousand times before. The first move came naturally, then the next, hips rolling, arms lifting, hair swinging as the rhythm took control.

For a moment, I forgot everything else.

Then I saw him.

Jaxon stood near the bar, tall and solid, his presence pulling at me like gravity. Aria was beside him, her hand resting on his arm like she belonged there, her smile soft and satisfied.

My heart stumbled.

“Focus,” I whispered to myself, though no one could hear me over the music.

I turned, spun, lifted my leg, letting muscle memory take over, but my eyes betrayed me, finding him again and again like they were drawn to him against my will.

“He looks happy,” a bitter voice inside me said.

The thought hurt more than I expected.

I moved closer to the edge of the stage, the lights shifting, and when I lifted my gaze again, his eyes were on me.

The connection snapped into place instantly, sharp and electric, and the world narrowed until it was just the two of us, the music fading to a distant hum. His face went still, his jaw tightening, his eyes darkening with something I could not name.

“Do not,” I whispered, my breath catching.

It was too late.

I felt it surge through me like a rush of heat, like a song waking up in my blood, ancient and dangerous. My siren power stirred, responding to the pull between us, responding to the ache I had tried to bury.

“No,” I said again, my voice trembling, but my body kept moving, my hips swaying, my hands lifting above my head as the power slipped loose.

The air changed.

I felt it before I saw it, a shift, a hush falling over the room, the crowd leaning in without knowing why. Faces tilted upward, eyes glassy, mouths parted, every gaze locking onto me like I was the only thing that existed.

“Lyra,” Mira hissed from the wings. “What are you doing?”

I could not answer her.

The music wrapped around me, slower now, deeper, and my voice slipped out with it, low and melodic, not a song anyone else could hear but one they could feel, vibrating in their chests, tugging at their hearts.

People stopped dancing.

People stopped talking.

They stared.

I searched for Jaxon again, panic rising in my chest, and when I found him, his face had changed. The softness that had clung to him lately was gone, ripped away like a mask, his expression hard and raw and furious.

Aria’s hand slipped from his arm.

“What is happening,” Aria said, her voice sharp, her eyes darting around. “Jaxon, look at me.”

He did not.

I felt something snap, clean and loud, like glass shattering, and the warmth that had wrapped around him faded, dissolving into nothing. Whatever had been holding him was gone, and the backlash slammed into me hard enough to make my vision blur.

“Stop,” I whispered, forcing the power down, locking it away with shaking hands.

The spell broke.

The room exhaled.

People blinked, confused, murmurs rising as the music returned to normal, the lights brightening. Someone laughed nervously. Someone else shouted for another drink.

I stood frozen on the stage, my chest heaving, sweat cooling on my skin.

Jaxon moved.

He tore his gaze away from me like it burned and turned toward Aria, his face twisted with something fierce and wild.

“Let us go,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

“What,” Aria said, grabbing his arm. “Jaxon, what just happened?”

“I said let us go,” he snapped, yanking his arm free.

The hatred hit me like a punch.

It poured off him in waves, thick and choking, aimed straight at me, and my knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.

“I hate you,” he said, not loudly, not dramatically, but clearly enough that I heard it over everything else.

The words carved into me.

I opened my mouth, my heart pounding, desperation clawing up my throat. “Jaxon, wait. Please. I did not mean to.”

He did not even look back.

He pushed through the crowd, his shoulders tense, Aria scrambling to keep up with him.

“Jaxon,” she said, her voice rising. “Slow down. You are scaring me.”

He stopped near the door so suddenly she nearly ran into him. He turned to her, his expression softening instantly, the anger melting into something intense and possessive.

“I am sorry,” he said, cupping her face. “I just need to get you out of here.”

“I do not understand,” she said, breathless. “You were fine and then you were not.”

“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “But you are okay. That is all that matters.”

I watched them from the stage, my heart shattering piece by piece as he leaned down and kissed her, not gentle, not playful, but deep and claiming, like he was trying to anchor himself to her.

People cheered, thinking it was part of the show.

I felt sick.

They disappeared through the doors, and the moment they were gone, my strength gave out. I stumbled back, the lights blurring, the music pounding too loud in my head.

Mira grabbed me before I fell. “What the hell was that,” she demanded, dragging me offstage. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”

“I am sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I did not mean for it to happen.”

She searched my face, then sighed, rubbing her temples. “You need to get yourself under control, Lyra. One day that power is going to destroy you.”

“I know,” I whispered.

She softened slightly. “Go sit down. I will cover the rest of the set.”

“Thank you,” I said, though the words felt empty.

I sank onto a bench in the dressing room, my hands shaking as I tried to steady my breathing. The echo of Jaxon’s hatred still clung to me, heavy and sharp, and beneath it, something worse, something that scared me more.

His feelings for Aria had grown.

I could feel it, bright and fierce, a bond tightening instead of breaking, like my power had pushed him further into her arms instead of pulling him back to me.

“I did not want this,” I whispered to the empty room. “I never wanted this.”

The mirror reflected a girl with smeared makeup and hollow eyes, a siren who could pull a room to its knees but could not stop hurting the one person she loved.

Outside, the club roared back to life, laughter and music and movement, the world spinning on like nothing had happened at all.

But I knew better.

Something had shifted tonight, something dangerous and irreversible, and as I pressed my hands to my chest and tried not to cry, I understood with a deep, aching certainty that whatever spell had broken on Jaxon had only tightened the storm gathering between us.