The Zenith Festival was a circus of sound and neon lights. You didn't need to announce the song.

Somewhere in the sea of stage lights, Jaxon was watching.

After your final note, the applause was deafening, but you barely acknowledged it. You shot a look toward the side stage. You knew he’d be there.

And of course, like a cliché dressed in leather pants and rhinestones, there he was—grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

The crowd barely had time to catch its breath before Ravenfall took the stage.

“Bonsoir, darlings,” he purred into the mic, deliberately choosing your mother’s language just to irritate you. The crowd screamed.

“You see,” he continued, strumming a lazy chord, “this festival is all about honesty. So I thought—what better time to debut a new song?”

The crowd murmured, expectant.

Jax looked right at you. Locked eyes. The boy who once broke your favorite sunglasses just to prove his family made better ones. The boy who beat you in a middle school talent show then gave you his trophy “because you looked cuter holding it.” The boy who kissed you behind a fashion tent when you were fifteen—then told the tabloids it was a “performance art piece.”

“This one’s called ‘Ruler of My Heart,’” he said, voice suddenly softer. “And it’s for her.”

Gasps. Squeals. The camera feed panned straight to your stunned face on the big screen.

“And, well—” Jax adjusted the mic, that damn smirk creeping back. “My star, my muse, my savior … won’t you come sing it with me?”

The crowd lost it.