Evan Blake POV:

It happened too fast.

One moment, I was stepping off the Saints & Sirens tour bus. The metal was still warm from the engine. My boots hit the pavement with that dull thud I’d grown used to, the morning heavy with the scent of diesel, coffee, and last night’s rain.

Then the engine kicked to life again.

Too fast. No driver in the seat. The angle was off. I knew in an instant that something was wrong.

That was when I saw you.

You were crossing the street in front of the venue. Coffee in hand. Headphones in. The sun had just started to break through the clouds, casting everything in a pale gold haze. You didn’t look up. You had no idea what was coming for you.

My stomach flipped. My pulse slammed into overdrive.

I took off in a run, everything I had been holding in my hands- my phone, my drumsticks, all thrown to the ground and forgotten.

The pavement was slick beneath my boots. My legs stretched to cover the distance, breath sharp in my throat, and my lungs felt painfully tight as I passed the bus. The roar of the engine grew louder as if it had turned into a monster. The bus was gaining speed, and so did my heart rate as I pushed harder to get to you.

I reached you on pure instinct, my body already moving before thought could catch up. There wasn’t enough time to shout or warn you. I lunged, arms wrapping around your waist, and yanked you back with all the force I had. The collision knocked the breath from us both. I twisted midair, angling my body to take the fall. My knees slammed into the asphalt, bone jarring against stone, and my leg wrenched sideways as it skimmed the edge of the curb. We hit the cement hard. Your weight landed against my chest as hot coffee splashed across my shirt and spilled in a bitter arc over the concrete. It burned, but wasn't nearly as painful as the pain in my leg.

And then the bus screamed past. Almost as if it was announcing its outrage.

The sound was a low, metallic howl. Tires shrieked. Glass cracked. Something heavy thudded as it collided with the street barrier across the lot.

But you were breathing.

I could feel it. Shallow, panicked, stuttering against me.

My hands didn’t move. I held you tight, trying to make sense of the fact that you were still here.

Somewhere behind me, shoes slapped against the asphalt.

Ash’s voice rang out sharp and breathless, cracked by panic. “The brakes were cut!”

The words echoed, unsteady in the air. Someone cursed, and another shouted for help.

The tension shifted to something far worse because this was no longer an accident; it was sabotage, and I had a feeling it had to do with the Ashes Reign band's Frontman, Kade Mercer. They were our direct rivals, and the man was malicious and crazy enough to do something like this, I was sure of it.

I looked at you.

Your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted, and you were a little dazed. My arms were still locked around you. My fingers, scraped and shaking, curled at your side.

The sounds around us started to seep in slowly, one by one. Sirens in the distance. People yelling. The sharp pop of a camera flash. The grind of the bus cooling, warped and silent against the barricade.

But I didn’t move.

The warmth of your body on mine was the only thing tethering me to this moment. You blinked slowly, breath catching like you hadn’t quite come back to yourself yet.

And I hadn’t either.

But shadows were starting to close in around us. Boots scuffing near the curb. Voices I knew. Cam. Rowan. Even Ash sounded panicked.

They were saying something, but it was all muffled over the roar of my heart in my ears from the adrenaline.

Their presence surrounded us. My band. My people. I felt their panic without looking. I knew they were worried. I could feel it in the air. Could sense the way their gazes dropped to you, then snapped to me, waiting for a signal.

But all I could focus on was you.

The rise and fall of your chest. The shake in your hands. The fact that you were here. Alive.