The Riot

Chapter 10. Afraid Of Losing Her

The ride toward the border was quiet. The rain lashed against the windows, a rhythmic drumming that usually helped Rayna write, but today, her notebook remained blank. She sat in the dinette, flipping the black guitar pick over and over.

​"You're doing it again," Jax said, sitting across from her with a plate of toast. "Where did you get that?"

​"Caspian," Rayna said, not looking up. "He invited me to play the Vancouver festival with them. The encore."

​Jax leaned back, a long sigh escaping him. "Vancouver is the biggest show of the year. If you go out there with them, you aren't Rayna Lynn anymore. You’re the girl Caspian Void 'discovered.' He’ll swallow you whole."

​"Maybe I'm tired of carrying the show on my own!" Rayna stood up, her voice rising. "He’s offering me a platform, Jax. A way to ensure I never have to go back to the subway. I want to be a big name. I want to be stable."

​"I'm offering you a career!" Jax shouted back. "One where you don't end up as a footnote in his biography. You think he’s showing you the 'real' him? He’s a master of the mirror. He wants to own the only thing in this industry that still has a soul- you."

​Rayna felt a sting of tears. "You don't think I can handle him?"

​"I think you're nineteen years old and you've had a very hard life," Jax said, his voice softening. "And when someone offers you a hand when you’re drowning, you don't always check to see if there’s a shackle attached to it."

​Rayna didn't answer. She grabbed her hoodie and retreated to her bunk, pulling the curtain shut with a violence that made the rings clang.

​

*~*~*~*~*

​The stadium was a concrete titan nestled against the mountains. Backstage was a city of golf carts and security guards. Rayna sat in her dressing room, staring at the silver raven pick on her vanity.

​She thought about the "King" and the "Runaway." She thought about the hunger she used to feel and the roar of the crowds she felt now. A knock sounded on the door- a note from Caspian.

​The gear is set. The mic is waiting. No pressure. - C.

​Jax appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed. "Marcus needs a 'yes' or 'no' for the encore setlist in ten minutes."

​Rayna looked at her Gibson. She started to play the opening chords of The Ash Castle. She walked out of her dressing room, passing the Iron Vanguard guys, and headed toward the production office.

​"Rayna Lynn?" the production manager asked. "Are you in for the Obsidian encore or not?"

​Rayna looked toward the main stage, where the sun was setting. "Tell Caspian I'll be there for soundcheck. But tell him this: I’m not singing his songs. We’re singing mine. If he wants me on that stage, he plays by my rules. And I’m keeping my loop pedal."

​

​The sun had dipped below the horizon. Obsidian Dirge was taking the stage, the sound of their distortion rattling the seats. Caspian stood at the center mic as Rayna stepped out.

​"You have a counter-offer, I hear," Caspian said, his voice booming through the PA.

​Rayna stepped up to the guest mic. She didn't look at the band; she looked at Caspian. "I don't do encores for other people. We do a mashup. The Ash Castle into Lonely. My rhythm, your power. I start with my loop, and you follow my lead."

​The members of Obsidian Dirge exchanged looks of disbelief. Caspian stared at her for a long beat, the wind whipping his hair. Then, a slow grin spread across his lips.

​"You heard the lady," Caspian shouted. "From the top! Rayna's way."

​The drums exploded, a thunderous beat that shook the ground. Rayna hit her loop pedal, layering the rhythmic thumps of her guitar. Thump. Thump. She began her screeching scratches, her thumb working the bass strings.

​She leaned into the mic and roared. It wasn't the cry of a guest; it was the shout of a leader. Caspian met her halfway, his voice weaving around hers in a dark, beautiful harmony. They stood back-to-back, commanding the empty stadium.

​Jax stood in the wings, watching. He saw the way Rayna commanded the stage, the way she didn't let Caspian overshadow her. She wasn't being swallowed. She was rising.

​When the final note faded, Caspian turned to her, his green eyes glowing. "Tomorrow night," he said, "we set this city on fire."

​Rayna didn't answer. She just packed her guitar and walked off. She hadn't signed anything. She hadn't joined his team. She was still Rayna Lynn- independent, fierce, and finally on her way to being a name that no one would ever forget.

*~*~*~*~*

The stadium air was thick with the scent of ozone and the distant tang of the Pacific, but backstage, the atmosphere had curdled into something far more volatile. Rayna had already retreated to the bus to store her Gibson, leaving a vacuum of silence in the wings that was quickly filled by two men who occupied entirely different ends of the rock-and-roll spectrum.

​Jax stood by the monitor board, his boots planted firmly as he began to wrap a stray cable. He didn't look up when the heavy, rhythmic tread of leather boots approached. He didn't have to. The air always seemed to grow colder, more pressurized, when Caspian Void walked into a room.

​"You’ve got a hell of a protege there, Jax," Caspian drawled, leaning against a stack of road cases. He pulled a silver flask from his coat, the green of his eyes catching the harsh glare of the overhead work lights. "Though 'protege' feels like a small word for someone who just dictated terms to a multi-platinum band before the sun even went down."

​Jax finally looked up. His expression was a mask of weathered stone. "She isn't a protege, Caspian. She’s an artist. And she isn't yours to play with."

​Caspian took a slow, deliberate sip from the flask, his rings clinking against the metal. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips- the one that had launched a thousand magazine covers. "You’re protective. I get it. I’d be, too, if I’d stumbled onto a gold mine like that in a New York subway. But let’s be honest, old man. You’re playing theaters. I’m playing stadiums. You’re teaching her how to survive; I’m showing her how to rule."

​"Rule?" Jax let out a short, harsh laugh, stepping closer until he was mere inches from Caspian’s space. Jax was broader, built from decades of hauling gear and playing through the pain, and he used that bulk now to crowd the younger man. "Is that what you call it? I’ve seen guys like you come and go for years, Caspian. You think you’re a king, but you’re just a collector. You see something bright and soulful, and you want to put it in a glass case so you can feel something again."

​Caspian’s smirk didn't falter, but his eyes darkened, the moss-green turning to the color of a stagnant pond. "You don't know me."

​"I know your type," Jax countered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You’re bored. You’ve had everything handed to you for ten years, and Rayna is the first thing you can’t just buy. So you’re using that 'soulmate' routine. You’re telling her you’re just a 'runaway' like her. But you forgot one thing."

​"And what’s that?" Caspian asked, tilting his head.

​"Rayna doesn't need a platform. She is the platform," Jax said, poking a finger toward Caspian’s chest. "She’s been hungry in ways you can’t imagine, and that hunger makes her dangerous. If you try to swallow her up into your 'brand,' she’s going to burn you from the inside out. I’m not protecting her from you, Caspian. I’m warning you about her."

​Caspian straightened up, his casual posture evaporating. The "King" persona was back, sharp and jagged. "She wants this. She told me herself- she’s tired of being small. She’s tired of wondering where the next meal comes from. I can give her a life where she never has to look at a price tag again. What are you giving her? A bunk on a cramped bus and a loop pedal?"

​"I’m giving her the right to keep her own name," Jax said, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt heavier than a shout. "And if you cross the line tonight- if you try to overshadow her or make that encore about you, I don't care how many Grammys you have. I will bury you in this stadium."

​The two men locked eyes, a silent war of wills playing out under the flickering fluorescent lights. The tension was so thick the passing roadies gave them a wide berth, sensing the impending explosion.

​Finally, Caspian let out a sharp, dry exhale. He tucked the flask back into his coat and brushed a stray lock of black hair from his forehead. "We’ll see who she chooses to follow when the lights go up, Jax. But don't act like your hands are clean. You’re just as afraid of losing her as I am of not having her."

​Caspian turned on his heel, his leather coat swishing like a shroud as he disappeared into the darkness of the loading dock.

​Jax stood alone, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the edge of the monitor board. He looked toward the stage where Iron Vanguard was supposed to start their soundcheck in five minutes. He could still hear the ghost of Rayna’s roar in the rafters.

​"I’m not afraid of losing her," Jax muttered to the empty wings. "I’m afraid of what happens when she realizes she doesn't need either of us."