Ritchie had thrown out that sarcastic, almost condescending remark that pierced your patience like a dagger. "You play like a child," he had said without even looking at you. But this time, you weren’t going to let it slide.

You grabbed Ritchie’s guitar and stared at it, the blade of a knife in your hand, caught between anger and control.

"Are you crazy?" Paice intervened, stepping between you and the guitar. His expression was a mix of worry and pleading. He looked at your face and instantly understood that something had changed this time.

Jon, from the corner, watched the scene in silence, not intervening. He knew there were no words that could calm you now. Gillan stood at the doorway with his arms crossed, as if debating whether to let you take justice into your own hands or stop you. Roger, for his part, couldn’t hide his discomfort, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze.

"You know how Ritchie is..." Paice tried, taking a cautious step forward.

At that moment, the door swung open. Ritchie entered, wearing that smug smile that always made you want to break something.

"Are you really going to throw a tantrum right before the show?" he asked mockingly, as if nothing was happening.

Paice tried to place a hand on your shoulder to calm you, but you brushed him off with a swipe. Your gaze locked with Ritchie’s.

Gillan finally stepped forward.

"Enough. Both of you. This isn’t going to end well for anyone if we keep this up."