Silent Truths

PROLOGUE

Tor

The bar was filled to the brim—so much so that the security team was literally turning people away because they just couldn’t comfortably fit more people.

When Salem, Dalton, Jesse, Spike, Kalin, and I first formed this band in freshman year of high school, using it as a hobby and a way to just escape reality for a little while, we never expected to make it to this point. We went viral on social media our senior year, and now, people were filling bars to max capacity just to see and meet us.

It was surreal. The six of us actually made enough from these gigs to afford a small, three-bedroom house. Dalton’s parents—the only decent parents out of the whole bunch of us—had offered to cover rent for all of us in a bigger place, but none of us were comfortable with taking that offer. Not even Dalton.

We were all determined to slum it and make it our own, even if most nights, we lived off ramen noodles.

I leaned in close to the mic, sweat clinging to my torso and running in rivulets down my temples to my jaw. "Agony is all I feel. Tearing through my bones. Ripping me to shreds." The crowd was going wild, singing the lyrics along with me. I glanced over at Salem, my best friend who I was madly in love with, watching as he came closer, working the strings on his guitar, looking damn good as he did so.

"Falling to my knees. Stars burst from the sky. Darkness shrouds me," we sang together. My voice was lighter, while Salem’s was raspier, and somehow, it worked perfectly for the two of us. Despite our voices being so different, they mixed well together, and his voice gave the perfect, darker undertone to our lyrics that would’ve been missing if I’d been the only one singing the depressing lyrics.

Salem grinned at me, making my heart skip a beat, before he ripped into his guitar solo, making the crowd go even wilder. At one point, their volume rose so high, they drowned him out. I fell back into the lyrics with ease as soon as he was done, bending down to slap hands with the people right in front of the stage as I belted out the notes. One girl almost tugged me off the stage, but Salem quickly reached forward and snatched me back.

We finished our last song and then headed back behind the curtain, my chest heaving, sweat glistening on my skin. Dalton, our rhythm guitarist, tossed me a hand towel, and I quickly began wiping the sweat off my face, neck, and arms, all while trying to catch my breath. Salem slung an arm around my neck and knocked our hips together, grinning at me before he guzzled some water.

I think that’s the best night we’ve had so far, he said.

I nodded in agreement, grinning at him, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.

Salem and I had been attached at the hip since we met in kindergarten. We both came from shitty homes, and we’d learned how to survive together. I was codependent on him, and I knew it was unhealthy. But I couldn’t imagine a world where Salem wasn’t right there with me. A world without him was bleak… desolate.

I couldn’t live without him. And luckily, he didn’t seem to want me to. He was content to have me all over him, constantly seeking him out and needing his presence.

A light knock sounded on the door. Jesse, our bass guitarist, grunted and stood from the couch he’d just flopped onto. Salem handed me his water bottle as Jesse opened the door.

We all stared in confusion at the man standing there. He was wearing a fitted suit—one that was very expensive and custom-tailored to fit his body. His cuff links glinted in the light, and his nails were manicured, his beard and hair professionally groomed.

Everything about him screamed money and power, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Nor could I seem to figure out why the hell he was standing at the door to the dressing room in the middle of a shitty bar in the middle of an even shittier town.

Do you have the wrong room? Kalin grunted. He played the keyboard for the band, giving our songs the perfect amount of softness to really hook our listeners.

No, I don’t. Not if you’re the Razor Monkees, the man gruffly answered. Mind if I come in?

Jesse stood back, letting the man into the room. I drank some of the water as Salem protectively tightened his arm around me, eyeing the man distrustfully. Salem trusted very few, and when it came to me, he trusted people even less. I was pretty sure that even though we were best friends and lived with our bandmates, he didn’t trust them with me one hundred percent either.

Why don’t we all take a seat? he asked as he took one in the old recliner in the corner. Salem silently tugged me over to the couch we normally sat on, but instead of me taking a seat beside him, like usual, he tugged me down onto his lap, his protectiveness going into overdrive.

I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. I would never turn down the opportunity to sit on Salem’s lap.

Who are you? Dalton asked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. And should I call my mom to get an attorney here?

The man smiled and pulled out a business card, laying it on the table in the center of all of us. I glanced at it and promptly choked. Salem patted my chest, narrowing his eyes down at the card.

Nightwork Records.

This had to be some joke because there was no way an actual label—especially one as big as Nightwork—would be interested in a group of kids—all but one of us poor—fresh out of high school.

My name is Richard Nightwork. I’m the owner of Nightwork Records. I licked my suddenly dry lips, my heart slamming against my breastbone, threatening to burst right through my skin. After screwing the lid back onto the water bottle, my hands found Salem’s, which were linked over my flat stomach, and I gripped them tightly. He silently flipped his hands over and linked our fingers together.

I’ve been following you all for a while since you popped up on my FYP, Richard explained. You intrigued me enough that I came to see you live. And I would like to offer you a contract with my label.

Silence rang around the room. Dalton roughly cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on his thigh, looking at all of us. I think I should contact my parents, he finally said when none of us said a single word. Hell, I wasn’t even sure all of us were breathing.

Salem grunted. I nodded. Jesse, Spike, and Kalin seemed to be in agreement as well. Dalton looked at Richard. Can we contact you when we have an attorney and are ready to look over everything?

Richard nodded and stood. My personal contact info is on that card, he said, gesturing to the table. I look forward to hearing from you.

With that, he left the room. I sagged back against Salem. Dalton pulled out his phone, but I could see the excitement in his eyes—in all our eyes.

Dalton would have made it without us. I knew that. His parents had connections, but he’d decided to slum it with us. And because he’d decided to work from the ground up with us, we had other adults to rely on—adults with money who could afford attorneys to look over paperwork so we didn’t accidentally sign our lives away.

We were getting our big break, and fuck… that felt good. It felt fucking incredible.

We were finally going to leave this shit hole, and we would never have to look back.

We shook hands with Richard and his attorney, and I was praying neither of them noticed how clammy my hands were. I’d barely been able to sign my name on the proper lines since I was shaking so badly. I was nervous as hell, and the only thing that had held off a panic attack was Salem’s strong grip on my thigh beneath the table.

"Your new manager, Delia, will reach