Chapter 14. Green Zone
2129 Words
The fluorescent lights of the stadium’s underground corridor flickered with a clinical, cold hum as Rayna stepped off the bus. The concrete air tasted of damp earth and diesel, a stark contrast to the salt-spray mist of the Vancouver morning she had just escaped.
Jax was true to his word. He, Shane, and Leo formed a tight, triangular perimeter around her, their boots echoing like a drum cadence against the floor. Every few steps, Jax’s eyes would dart toward the shadows behind the massive concrete pillars, his hand hovering near the small of her back- never quite touching, but the intent was there, a heavy, suffocating blanket of concern.
"Keep your head down, Rayna," Shane muttered, his eyes sharp. "Security says there’s a back-gate breach being handled, but we aren't taking chances."
"I'm not a child, Shane," Rayna snapped, though her pulse was still thrumming from the sight of the spider-webbed glass on the bus. She gripped her guitar case tighter. She wasn't afraid of the crowd- she was afraid of the weight of them.
They reached Dressing Room 4. Jax swiped a keycard, the lock clicking with a heavy, mechanical finality.
"I’m going to do a sweep of the stage-left wings," Jax said, turning to her. His face was etched with a weariness that made him look a decade older. "Shane, Leo, stay with her. Nobody enters this room unless I’m with them. Not even the caterers."
"We’ve got her, Jax," Leo said, leaning his drumstick-tapped rhythm against the doorframe. "Go do your thing."
Jax looked at Rayna, a flicker of something raw and unsaid passing through his eyes. He seemed to want a word, a nod, a sign that his vigilance was appreciated. Rayna merely offered a polite, "Thanks, Jax," and stepped inside.
The door shut. The silence of the room should have been a relief, but it felt like the air had been sucked out of a vacuum.
The room was an explosion of color. Flowers- hundreds of them, lined the vanity and the industrial tables. Lilies, roses, and lavender sent by the label, the festival promoters, and radio stations. The scent was cloying, thick enough to coat the back of her throat.
"Man, looks like a funeral in here," Leo joked, wandering over to a tray of fruit. "Or a wedding. Depends on how you look at it."
Rayna ignored him, walking toward the vanity. She began to sort through the cards- generic well-wishes and PR fluff, until she saw it. Tucked deep into a bouquet of white lilies, which sat at the very center of the mirror, was a small, black velvet box.
She opened it. Her breath hitched.
Inside was a single silver hoop earring. It was hers- the one she had lost three weeks ago in a crowded press line in Denver. Beneath it was a folded piece of yellowed notebook paper.
Rayna pulled the note out. The handwriting was tiny, cramped, and frantic, scrawled with an intensity that seemed to vibrate off the page.
You looked so tired in Denver, Rayna. I kept this to bring us back together. I am in the front row. I am in the walls. I am the reason you sing. Don’t let the old man keep us apart. We are the same.
"Rayna? You okay? You look like you saw a ghost," Shane said, stepping closer.
Rayna didn't speak. She simply held out the box.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Shane let out a low curse, while Leo’s playful demeanor vanished into a hard, professional coldness. They both knew what this meant. Someone had been close enough to her in Denver to steal her jewelry, and that same person had bypassed stadium security, avoided the "Iron Vanguard" perimeter, and placed this in her inner sanctum today.
The door flew open. Jax was back, his face flushed. "I heard the radio chatter, what's-"
He stopped, seeing the earring. When he read the note, a low, guttural sound escaped his throat. It was the sound of a man who had failed the one task he had set for himself.
"That’s it," Jax breathed, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage. "I’m calling the festival head. I’m shutting down the guest-list. Shane, get the promoter. Leo, check the halls. Now!"
"Jax, wait-" Rayna started, but he was already gone, his voice echoing down the hall as he barked orders into a radio.
The room felt small. The flowers felt like they were closing in, their scent suddenly smelling like rot. Rayna felt a cold sweat break across her neck. She had the fame she wanted, but she didn't have a floor under her feet. She was floating in a world where anyone could touch her.
"A bit crowded in here, isn't it?"
The voice was like silk over gravel.
Rayna turned.
Caspian Void was leaning against the doorway. He wasn't wearing his stage gear yet- just a black silk shirt unbuttoned halfway and a pair of trousers that cost more than her bus. His green eyes took in the flowers, the earring, and the shattered look on Rayna’s face. Behind him stood two massive men in suits- not roadies, not bandmates, but professional, high-tier security.
"Caspian," Shane said, his hand dropping to his side. "This isn't a good time."
"I can see that," Caspian said, pushing off the wall. He walked toward Rayna, ignoring Shane entirely. He looked at the black box, then at her. "Your manager is currently screaming at a twenty-year-old intern in the production office. It’s quite the show, but it won't keep you safe."
Rayna looked at him, her edge returning through the fear. "And you will? You’re just a 'playboy' with a bigger budget, Caspian. That’s what the magazines say."
Caspian’s lips tilted in a slow, enigmatic smirk-the one he used for the cameras, but his eyes remained strangely hollow. "The magazines say I have a new girlfriend every week and that I think I’m God’s gift to the electric guitar. They’re half right. But the magazines don't mention that I haven't slept in a room without a biometric lock in five years."
He turned to his security team. "Take her things. Move her to the Green Zone. Now."
"Wait a minute," Shane stepped forward. "Jax told us to stay put."
Caspian looked at Shane as if he were a particularly uninteresting insect. "Jax is a smaller musician than Rayna now. He’s a good man, but he’s playing checkers in a war zone. My world is built for targets, Shane. Yours is built for musicians. Which one do you think she needs right now?"
Rayna looked at the black box, then at the two guards who moved with a silent, lethal efficiency. She thought of Jax- his earnestness, his desperate need to be her hero. She liked Jax. She trusted his soul. But as she looked at the note again- I am in the walls- she realized Jax didn't know how to fight ghosts.
"Go find Jax," Rayna told Shane, her voice regaining its steel. "Tell him where I am. But I'm going with Caspian."
The "Green Zone" was a high-security wing of the stadium, walled off by heavy steel doors and guarded by men who didn't speak. Inside, it was a sanctuary of white leather, chilled water, and silence. It was the most expensive cage Rayna had ever seen.
Caspian led her to a sofa and sat across from her. He didn't flirt. He didn't pull the "King" routine. He just sat there, swirling a glass of sparkling water.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm not," Rayna lied, tucking her hands under her thighs.
"It’s okay to be," Caspian said. He leaned forward, the mask slipping just a fraction. For a moment, he didn't look like a rock star. He looked like a man who had spent too much time in the dark. "You think you're still Rayna Lynn, the girl with the loop pedal and a dream. But to that person who sent the note? You’re an icon. You’re a piece of property they think they own. You aren't a person anymore, Rayna; you're a target."
Rayna felt a pang of resentment. "Jax says I'm still me. He says the Industry is what makes me a target."
Caspian laughed, a short, dry sound. "Jax is an idealist. He wants to protect your 'purity' because he’s half in love with the idea of being your savior. But look around you. This wing costs more to secure for one night than your entire tour budget. That is the cost of the crown, Rayna. And I’m the only one here who can pay it."
Rayna’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
JAX: Where are you? I’m at the dressing room. Why did you leave? Shane told me you went with Void. Rayna, talk to me. We have a plan.
She looked at the screen, then at Caspian. She felt a sudden, sharp wave of isolation. She was safe behind these walls, but Jax was on the other side. She was being separated from the people who brought her here- her family, but she was being protected by the only man who understood her danger.
"I need to tell him I'm okay," Rayna said, her thumb hovering over the keypad.
"Tell him whatever you like," Caspian said, standing up. He walked to the window that overlooked the stadium floor, where the roadies were crawling over the stage like ants. "But don't give him your location. My security doesn't like 'heroic' tour musicians trying to breach the perimeter. It gets messy."
Rayna typed back a quick, cold message.
RAYNA: I’m in the high-security wing. Caspian’s team has me. I’m safe, Jax. Just get the gear ready. I'll see you at soundcheck.
She hit send and felt a weight settle in her stomach. It felt like a betrayal, but it also felt like a relief.
Caspian turned back to her, watching her. He saw the conflict in her eyes, the way she clutched her phone like a lifeline. He felt a familiar, sharp pang of envy. She has someone who actually worries about her, he thought. All I have is a team that worries about the insurance premium.
He walked over and sat on the edge of the table near her, close enough that she could smell the expensive citrus and tobacco of his scent.
"You think I’m the villain in your story, don't you?" he asked softly. "The big, bad rock star trying to steal the indie darling."
"I think you’re a man who likes to be in control," Rayna challenged, meeting his gaze. "And right now, I’m the only thing in this stadium you don't fully control."
Caspian’s eyes sparked- not with anger, but with a strange, fleeting respect. "Control is the only thing that keeps the loneliness from screaming, Rayna. You’ll learn that. You think Jax can protect you? He’s a man. Men get tired. Men get distracted. Systems don't."
He stood up, his flirtatious mask clicking back into place with practiced ease. "Stay here. Eat something. My bandmates will be in later, and they’re idiots, so ignore them. You’re playing for sixty thousand people tonight, Rayna. If you want to keep your soul, that’s fine. But let me keep your body in one piece."
He walked toward the door, his movements fluid and confident.
"Caspian?"
He stopped, hand on the biometric scanner.
"Why are you doing this?" Rayna asked. "It’s not for the PR. There are no cameras here."
Caspian looked at her for a long beat. The "playboy" smirk didn't reach his eyes. "Because it’s a big, empty stadium, Rayna. And I’m tired of being the only one who knows how cold it gets at the top."
The door slid shut with a silent, heavy hiss.
Rayna sat back on the white leather sofa. She looked at her phone again.
Three missed calls from Jax. One text from Shane.
She looked at the biometric lock on the door. She was safe. She was stable. She was protected.
But as she sat in the silent, expensive heart of the "Green Zone," she realized that the wall Caspian had built wasn't just to keep people out. It was to keep her in. She was finally a name, finally a queen.
And for the first time in her life, she realized that a queen was just a prisoner with a better view.
- Writer
