Revolt (Legends and Love)

Saying goodbye to Astro’s parents is hard. I found safety and happiness here, something I haven’t felt since I was younger. It was a paradise, an escape, but as we drive back into the city, the pressure, the cameras, and the break-in all come rushing back.

The peace of this weekend is forgotten, and when we pull up outside of my house, having to wade through reporters and cameras so thick that police have been called, I hesitate to get out.

I stare up at the big house I was so happy to buy. It was my first big purchase and it proved I was making it. It became my sanctuary on the hill, away from prying eyes. Inside these walls, I could be myself. I could be wild, sad, and happy. I could be in love. I could be greedy or lazy. Now, though, it feels wrong. It feels tainted.

“Are you okay?” Dal asks quietly.

Nodding, I get out before I can hide further, but at the door, Astro holds me back as Dal, Cil, and Raff surge inside. I wave at Havier at the gate, who nods and waves back. Standing in the sunlight, I hide behind Astro as I hear paparazzi trying to climb the wall to get a picture. I even hear a helicopter, so I almost breathe a sigh of relief when they come back to the door.

“Everything is clear and fine. Come in, Miss Harrow.” Raffiel winks, and the familiar teasing makes me smile.

Before I know it, I’m inside, but I freeze in the entryway. The door shuts behind me with a resounding bang, making me jump.

It no longer feels like my home.

Someone entered my sanctuary and defiled it, and as I look around, I don’t know if it will ever feel safe or like it’s mine ever again. Maybe I should move.

Even that thought makes my mouth sour. That would mean the crazy person won and that I’m weak. I’m not weak. This is my house, my fucking house. Not theirs. I won’t let them win.

Taking a deep breath, I step farther in. The guys’ eyes shine with pride as the first thing I do is head upstairs. My bedroom is spotless, exactly as I left it before the break-in, except with new bedding, yet I feel wrong being in here. I head downstairs to my studio. Everything there is clean and safe and I begin to relax.

This is my home.

Mine.

I spend the rest of the day on the phone with Jack, going over plans and finalizing things for the album. The cover launches in a few days, and I can’t wait for my fans’ reactions. This is the first music I’m putting out since I came back, and although I’m nervous, I’ve never felt prouder of my work. It’s me, it’s raw, and as long as I’m happy with it, that’s enough.

The guys are busy. They pick up Raff Jr. and I know he’s happy to be home, and despite their protests, they missed him too. They speak to the police and my managers, and they report in and check on me all the time. I tell them I don’t want to know anything. I trust them to look after me and do their job, so I let them do it. Instead, I focus on the million and one things I need to do, and before I know it, it’s one in the morning.

Sighing, I drag myself upstairs, and after showering, I stare at my bed. I climb inside, wincing, but as I lie here, staring at the ceiling, it feels wrong and cold.

It’s too empty.

Needing the safety I found in their arms, I climb from my bed and head downstairs to find them. I step into the first room I find, which just so happens to be Cillian’s. He’s sitting up in bed with Raff Jr. curled at his feet, the quilt pooled around his bare waist as he watches TV, but when he sees me, he smiles brightly, lifting the covers and welcoming me. I rush in, diving inside, and he wraps me in his arms. He kisses my head as I snuggle into his side, finally able to breathe . . . finally feeling safe.

“I’ve got you. You can sleep, babe,” he tells me, always knowing exactly what’s wrong without me having to voice it.

Looking up, I meet his bright eyes, his hair flashing with brilliant colors from the TV. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’d be fine. You’re so goddamn strong, but luckily, you will never have to know. I don’t plan on going anywhere, ever,” he whispers.

“Promise?” I search his gaze, knowing my tone is soft and vulnerable.

“I promise,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me. “Now sleep. It’s been a long day, and you need your rest.”

Nodding, I curl into his side with a smile, looking at the TV to see the news there. Just as I’m drifting off to the sound and the hum of his heart, my name catches my attention. Cil isn’t fast enough to turn the channel, so I hear what they have to say about me.

One sentence rings in my ears.

Attention seeking bitch.

They think I’m a bitch?

Fine, I’ll be a bitch.