Anya’s POVThe roar of the St. Louis crowd was a physical force, a wall of sound that vibrated through the floorboards of the arena and settled deep in my marrow. Behind the soundboard, the array of faders and glowing buttons felt like the cockpit of a falling plane. I had my headset on, the plastic digging into my temples, listening to the frantic chatter of the stage hands and the cold, measured breathing of Ethan in my ear."He’s at the bench, Anya," Ethan’s voice crackled through the comms. "He’s pale, but he’s upright. Keep the reverb high. If his hands start to lag, I want the pre-recorded atmospheric track to swell. No one hears a missed note tonight. Do you understand?""I understand," I said, my voice as mechanical as the hardware in front of me.On the monitors, I saw Kai. He looked like a ghost under the harsh blue wash of the spotlights. He was sitting at the Steinway, his back unnervingly straight, his hands resting on the keys like they were made of lead. The IV had clea
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