Viktor was by my side within seconds, scooping me out of the stranger’s arms.

“No,” Levi yelled, scrambling up. “Don’t touch her! She’s mine!”

“You son of a bitch.” Gabe’s fist came out of nowhere and connected with Levi’s jaw with a sickening thwack.

It was like watching slow motion in the editing suite as Levi’s head snapped back, bright red blood spurting from his nose and his fair hair fanning out behind him as he fell.

Then everything sped up. Gabe didn’t even give him a chance to get up. He was on top of his bandmate, his fists pummeling his face, his chest, anywhere he could make contact.

I cowered in Viktor’s arms as Gabe kept hitting Levi over and over, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones and the thud of muscle.

“You fucking bastard,” Gabe growled between hits. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you for this.” His chest heaved up and down with the effort of the punches he kept throwing.

“That’s enough.”

Marc stepped in and pulled Gabe off Levi in one swift move. Gabe turned on Marc and raised his fist to deliver another blow but Marc blocked it effortlessly.

“Save it.” His dark eyes challenged Gabe. “Trust me. You’ll want to save it.”

Gabe raised his palms and took a step back, pushing a hand through the hair falling over his eyes. A red streak appeared in his brown hair. Still breathing heavily, he took another step back and crouched down on the spot, hanging his head in defeat.

“What the hell?” Johnnie dived through the crowd and skidded to a halt when he saw the scene before him. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck, man?”

He rushed to Levi’s side and kneeled down next to him.

Levi’s face was barely recognizable. Blood gushed from what appeared to be a broken nose and red marks covered his white T-shirt like someone’s sick idea of modern art.

Johnnie reeled back on his heels. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He jumped up and rounded on Gabe. “Explain this to me before I do the same to you, you asshole.”

Gabe didn’t look up. He was still crouching down, balancing on the spot, staring at the floor. He raised an arm and pointed at me.

I found my voice. “It was Levi,” I sobbed, which was when I realized I was crying. “Levi’s been stalking me.”

Johnnie stumbled back like he’d been hit and Emilio appeared out of the crowd and steadied him.

Emilio’s steady gaze met mine. “He took those photos?”

“Yes! He didn’t say it, but he’s in love with me. He’s been watching me.” I sobbed again and buried my face in Viktor’s side, the scene before me too horrifying to comprehend.

Emilio stepped past Johnnie and knelt beside Levi. “Was it you?”

Levi coughed up some blood, unable to answer.

Emilio leaned in closer. “Answer the question, Levi.”

Everyone waited in silence for Levi to speak. Eventually he opened his mouth and rasped something.

“What?” Emilio said.

“Yes!” Levi’s voice rang clear.

Some of the women gasped and even stepped back. I held tight to Viktor.

A muscle in Emilio’s jaw twitched. “You took that photo of Damon and me?”

Levi closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

“You released it to the press?”

A coughing attack overtook Levi and he held his ribs, pain twisting his face into an ugly mask. Gabe had probably broken his ribs.

Emilio waited patiently for Levi to catch his breath. Levi’s blue eyes flashed with pain as they met Emilio’s, and he nodded once.

Emilio frowned in disgust and stood up. “You’re lucky I don’t finish the job.” He turned and pushed through the crowd of people and disappeared.

Gabe hadn’t moved and Johnnie was so pale the tattoos on his arms were more vibrant than usual.

Johnnie shook his head. “Why, man? Why?”

Levi didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure he could. He was so hurt from Gabe’s brutal beating that breathing was an effort.

Johnnie held his head like it hurt. “We had everything! Everything, Levi! Why’d you have to go and ruin it?”

“Not everything,” Levi said hoarsely. “Not her.”

Gabe sprung up and lunged for Levi again, but Marc leapt between them and caught Gabe.

“I’ve heard enough,” Marc said while holding onto Gabe, who struggled in his grip. Marc nodded at several of the bodyguards. “Clear the room and call an ambulance. The police as well.”

“No.” Levi tried to sit up and more blood dripped and soaked into his T-shirt like scarlet tears. “Chloe, listen to me. You’re too good for him.”

I was going into shock. My breathing was rapid, I couldn’t seem to get enough air, and I was shaking in Viktor’s arms.

Gabe snarled but Marc held him back.

“Listen to me, Chloe,” Levi croaked. “He was nothing when I found him. Nothing, do you hear me?”

“Shut up!” Gabe yelled.

Levi ignored him. “He was washing dishes and cleaning toilets to make ends meet before he joined the band.” Levi paused for a breath and I saw Marc tighten his grip on Gabe as he tried to wrench free.

“He went from foster home to foster home as a kid. Stole shit, did drugs. He’s done time, Chloe. The guy you’re in love with is an ex-con.”

Gabe’s guttural cry distracted Marc long enough for Gabe to bury an elbow in his stomach and Marc let go. Gabe dived for Levi.

“Stop! Just stop!” My voice echoed around the room full of stunned guests.

Gabe froze and then brought his fists up beside his head, clenching them so hard they turned white.

Levi collapsed back onto the ground. “Gabriel da Silva isn’t even his real name.” He closed his eyes, his breathing weak.

Gabe dropped his hands to his sides and stared hard at his feet.

“Gabe?” I sounded like a little girl, not a young woman.

Gabe didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge that I’d spoken. Johnnie was staring at Gabe like he’d never seen him before.

“Gabe?” I said louder this time. “But you have a mom. You told me about her. She’s a nurse.”

Silence stretched for the longest time.

“Answer her, dammit.” This was Johnnie.

“I told you about one of my foster moms.” He didn’t look at me.

A ripple of surprise murmured through the crowd of onlookers.

“OK, so she was your foster mom,” I reasoned, grasping for a thread of truth. Anything to prove that the Gabe I knew and this Gabe standing in front of me were the same man. “She gave you a drum kit for your eleventh birthday. She thought it would help give you something to focus on when you were struggling at school.”

“I stole a set of drums when I was fourteen. I told my foster mom I’d earned the money to buy them washing cars over summer break.”

The murmuring intensified. Gabe still wasn’t looking at me.

“Was any of it true?”

More silence. Gabe eventually cleared his throat. “I’m dyslexic, but I could barely read and write until I was nineteen. That girl I told you about taught me.”

The woman who had given up on him.

“What’s your real name?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He finally met my eyes. “Gabriel Sloane.”