Page 87 of Revel
I’m able to peek around Ben to see the guys in the corner of the stage. Fighting his way from beneath Revel, Breckin has no chance at winning this, but tries to land a few punches. Breckin gets to his feet. “Come on!” Breckin instigates. “Get up! Come on! Show them the real Revel Slade.”
Silently, but with a deadly glare on his enemy, Revel stands, using the edge of the drum riser to steady himself, his hair bloody and wild, just like his eyes. Sweeping the back of his hand across his mouth, he smiles bitterly at Breckin. They collide again, rolling around on the stage—fans, security, other performers yelling for them to stop.
Fear weighs heavily inside my chest, my heart pumping wildly. Revel’s going to kill him if I don’t do something now. “Stop them!” I scream, only to have no one listen to me. Nameless faces watch my reaction to the scene before me, yet do nothing to stop it. How can they want this? Easy. They want to see this side of Revel. The untouchable monster they knew existed deep within the man behind the mic.
Controlled by the alcohol in his veins, and no doubt drugs, Revel doesn’t stop. One brutal hit after another. Drawing his fist back, Revel drives it hard into Breckin’s face and if it hadn’t been so loud in the venue, you could have heard the bone breaking in Breckin’s face, along with Revel’s hand.
I think they realize how bad it is when Breckin stops fighting back, his body limp on the ground. Security manages to pull Revel off him, as Patrick finally pins Revel by the backs of his legs. And though he’s trapped, Revel remains wild, fighting against them to get away. “Get off me!” he screams, struggling and thrashing around like a child who’s being held down by their parents. “Let me the fuck up!”
Now that he’s not moving around and contained for the most part, I’m able to get closer to Revel. I gasp at the sight of him. His face is red, his mouth and hands bleeding. Blood soaks the front of his shirt but his eyes—those cold blue eyes—they scare the hell out of me. I’ve never seen him so angry, so villain-like. I don’t know this guy, but then again, had I ever really known him or what he was capable of? Our eyes catch and he pushes against Patrick. He lets him up only to have Revel remain on the ground, this time propped against a speaker, his head in his hands. Police are standing next to him, their guard up, blocking the view from the audience. Breckin’s in the corner, unrecognizable, lying flat on his back, blood gushing from his face as paramedics rush to him. He’s. . . limp and lifeless to those tending to him.
Holy. Shit.
My head swims with so many scenarios that I can’t keep up with them to decipher any. All I know is this is bad, really freaking bad, and Revel’s in huge trouble.
The tour managers take the stage telling everyone the concert is over. They boo and shout, chanting Revel’s name, refusing to leave. Security begins to usher them to the exits over the loudspeakers.
It’s amongst the commotion that Revel’s eyes find mine, hurting, pleading. I take a deep breath just as he releases one. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words rough, his eyes glassy and red. “I’m so fucking sorry, Red.” The sorrow of his face gives me a head rush, but underneath the apology, he’s not the Revel I know. This guy, he’s out of control and unstable.
Wanting to comfort him, I take a step toward him only to have Liz block me, her hands shaking, her eyes wide and alert. “No. Don’t go over there. They’re going to arrest him. Just leave him be. I’ll see if you can talk to him outside.”
Leave him be? How can I? “This is really bad, Liz,” I say to her, my voice trembling and wavering.
She nods. “I know.”
With tears in my eyes, I catch sight of Hensley as she comes off stage. As she’s passing by me, she mumbles, “I told you so.”
I want to punch her. I bet she put Breckin up to that. But I’m also not going to give her the benefit of my reaction.
Bella finds me next, her hands on my arms, pulling me toward her. I cry against her, unable to stop the emotions from consuming me.
It’s an hour later when I’m able to see Revel outside the venue. I call his name, but he doesn’t turn around and keeps walking with the two cops beside him. Though he’s not in handcuffs, they’re not letting him go.
Wiping tears from my eyes on my forearm, I call out for him again. “Revel!”
Beside the cop car, Revel finally twists toward me. He watches me the entire time I’m walking toward him. The closer I am to him, the worse he looks. He’s swollen and wounded, with cuts scattered across his flushed cheeks, one hand in a bandage.
We stand in a parking lot outside the stadium, tucked between tour buses and the police cars. Red and blue lights from the ambulance reflect off the snow banks and give the night an eerie feeling. Revel sighs, a curse falling from his bloody lips as he holds a cigarette with unsteady hands. “I should kill that piece of shit.” He flicks the cigarette butt toward the snow-covered ground. His body shifts to lean against the side of the cop car, but he looks at me, wounded, his face sad. Still, even underneath the sadness, there’s a draw to him, a gravity only he possesses and I can’t ignore. He burns so brightly, yet lurks in the shadows. “Did you want to kiss him?”
“What?” I gasp, my heart thudding painfully. “Have you lost your mind? Right. You have. No, I didn’t. He kissedme, and it shocked me. Before I could react, in front of everyone for that matter, you freaked out.”
“How did you expect me to react seeing him touch you like that?”
“Not like an insane person.”
He cracks a sarcastic smile and I hate the way it makes my heart jump. “Then you don’t know me very well.”
“Clearly. I don’t think I know you at all because you refuse to let me.”
His stare slides to mine, and it’s deep and thought-provoking. I meet his eyes, bloodshot and betrayed. “I just. . . I saw him touch you like that, the fear in your eyes, and I reacted. I don’t even remember hitting him.”
Deep down, it’s a warning. One I should take notice of. Everything Revel has ever said and done has been a warning, one that I ignored because I saw through the image he projected of himself and the man behind the star power. In many ways, he’s still a boy, still lost and living a life in the blinding spotlight.
His cold blue eyes find mine. “I fucked up, Princess.”
I nod. “You did. This is bad, Revel. It’sreallybad.”
He nods, his eyes on the snowy pavement below our feet. “I know.”
