John

People streamed into the large building across the street as John looked out the window, watching the crowd trickle by, searching for signs of unrest, as always. It was the first sold out concert in the city in weeks, this time at The Temple, an old converted church ran by Watson. John could sense the excitement of the crowd on the street below, but something else was there, as well. He'd heard the murmurs, on the scene and among his staff, complaints about the outrageous fees and prices of even the smaller bands that struggled to fill venues. He signed, remembering the conversation he'd had with a promoter just the week before.

"My client has decided to skip Atlanta this tour. I'm sorry Mr. Thornton, but they can't risk having another tiny crowd and low sales. It doesn't make financial sense."

John shook his head, being pulled out of his reverie by a familiar face in the crowd below. He should have expected her to be there, since she and Becca were practically inseparable these days. At work, he'd heard Becca complaining about how expensive tickets were, but hoping the band was worth it. He hoped so, too. A disappointing performance would be another nail in the coffin of their business. The city couldn't afford to be skipped on too many tours. Fans needed to enjoy themselves, show the bands and promoters that Atlanta could still sell out a concert hall, fill a stadium with people screaming their names.

"Well Thornton, it looks like some of us can still draw a crowd." John's attention was pulled away from the window by Watson, who was seated at the table with the other men. Another day, another meeting with his colleagues trying to figure out how to move forward as a team and revamp the industry. John knew he couldn't do it alone, that he needed the help of these men. It was just too bad he didn't trust most of them as far as he could throw them.

Taking his seat back at the table, John sighed heavily. "I'm glad for the progress, but will it hold? Fall is coming, people will be busy, students will go back to their classes. We need to get a plan in place or else we'll lose what's left of our reputation and clients all together."

Across the table, Hamper shrugged, "Maybe Watson was right, Thornton. Even with the fees and expense, the fans are still here. Maybe we've been worried about nothing. Bring in big enough bands and you'll get big enough crowds." Hamper was part owner of Motley Hall, a smaller venue that struggled to bring in big names during the best of times.

John couldn't agree. This was an anomaly of the current status quo, not the new normal. Plus, it was peak concert season; they shouldn't be celebrating a single sold-out show during a time when all their venues should be full almost every night. He could tell that he wasn't going to get anywhere with his colleagues tonight, so he said his goodbyes and made his way home, with one last glance at the Temple, wondering what was going on inside.

Maggie

As she stood in line to be let into The Temple, Maggie suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. Glancing around, she looked across the street just in time to see a familiar set of broad shoulders turn away from a window overlooking the crowd. It was beginning to seem like she would never escape the traces of him. She caught glimpses of his sharp eyes when she picked up Becca from work, saw the tight set of his jaw only somewhat relaxed when she happened upon him and her father in the music room, felt the tense aura of his presence whenever she was at The Mill for a show. Though, shows at The Mill had been less frequent, something she was acutely aware of, thanks to her association with Becca and Nick.

Becca seemed to read her mind. "It feels like it's been forever since we've gone out to a show," she said, clearly excited for the band they were seeing.

Her brother was less enthusiastic. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Becks. One way or another, the golden days are over. This is just ridiculous. Forty-five bucks and eight extra for 'processing fees', whatever that even means. It's robbery, pure and simple." Maggie saw a few people around her nod, clearly listening to Nick's rant. She agreed herself, it was an outrageous price to pay for an up and coming band, young and inexperienced, their first headlining tour.

"Even Green Day didn't cost that much, a few years back!" Nick continued, getting warmed up now that he had more listening ears. "What do they think they're playing at? Are they trying to push us to see how much they can squeeze out of us?"

"Can't squeeze water out of a rock!" Someone shouted down the line.

Nick clapped his hands together, drawing more attention. "Exactly! How much longer until none of us can afford a show? Who's going to buy these outrageously priced tickets? And what about those of us who work in the business? Too much more of this nonsense and many of us will be out of a job completely!" There were murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd as the line started moving more steadily towards the doors.

A short man Maggie recognized from other events spoke up, asking, "What do you suggest we do about it, then, Higgins?"

It seemed like Nick had come prepared for this moment, since he had an answer ready at hand. The single word made Maggie's stomach clench with dread, feeling like she was on the precipice of another dramatic change, this one out of her control entirely.

"Boycott."

Startled expressions around her turned to contemplation, as they considered the potential in what Nick said, though they remained quiet, handing over their tickets at the entrance of The Temple to be scanned. Maggie could tell that some of the workers had overheard the conversation and were looking at Nick with interest. She then noticed another person looking over at them, this one with a different kind of interest. At first, she couldn't quite place how she knew this man, but suddenly she realized where she had seen him before. The last time she'd seem him he was being drug out of The Mill, that fateful first night there. Stephen was his name, Becca had told her later. He wasn't someone she had ever hoped to see again, yet here he was. She didn't like the devious look on his face, or the way he slunk through the crowd and out of sight, as if he had somewhere else to be.

The Temple was gorgeous inside, but there was an undercurrent in the crowd as word spread from group to group about what Nick had said. It was obvious that many people were as worked up over this as he was, and Maggie could feel the mood shift before the main act took the stage. The band had played in The Temple before, as an opener, and were obviously stoked that their show had sold out. It was unfortunate timing that the lead singer was getting over a cold and couldn't hit his high notes. This, coupled with the strange vibe of the room, threw the band off their game and resulted in what they would remember as the worst performance of their careers.

This recipe for disaster cemented the prevailing feeling of the crowd, their thoughts all echoing the word Nick had spoken earlier. Maggie felt bad for the band, bad for the crowd, and bad for the workers. She even felt bad for the owners, who she knew wouldn't see this coming. The great unknown was hanging over the city, something dark and tumultuous on the verge of being released upon the unsuspecting victims. And Maggie, caught up in the drama of this place that wasn't her home, had nowhere else to run.

John

It had been a long, tedious evening. Balancing the accounts was never his favorite thing to do, but it was particularly unpleasant tonight, since no matter how John crunched the numbers, they still came up short. He locked the door to The Mill then rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he turned towards home, he was startled by a figure stepping out of the shadows.

"What do you want? I told you to stay away from here." John's already bad mood was fanned into anger at the sight of the man, Stephen, who's original trouble making seemed so long ago. He looked no worse for the wear; John was glad his angry actions had caused no lasting damage, as much as the man deserved it. Why he was here, at The Mill, was a mystery.

With a smug smile on his face, Stephen said, "I've come to make you a deal. I can tell you what the masses are planning, in exchange, you call off your lackeys and let me back into The Mill."

Though John was curious, he was also enraged that this imbecile thought he'd ever make a deal with someone such as him. And to have the nerve to corner him at his own work place. The man was dangerous, and John had no doubt that he was carrying a weapon. "I don't want anything from you. Get out of here." He said firmly, hoping the smaller man would get the message.

But Stephen was persistent, a quality John would normally find admirable. Instead, it irked him more when Stephen wouldn't take no for an answer, saying, "I was at The Temple today, I heard the whole thing. You need an inside man."

He'd finally had enough, pushing Stephen out of the way as a bus rattled by, pulling into the stop across the street. "I said to go away. Don't ever come near here again!" He tried to walk away, but Stephen blocked his exit again, this time with a knife in his hand, blade catching the light of the streetlamps.

Before John could make his next move, they were both suddenly aware that they were no longer alone. "Who's there?" He called into the shadows.

Nick stepped out into the light, Becca and Maggie safely a few paces behind him. "It's just me, boss. Everything okay?" As Nick advanced towards the pair, eyes warily watching Stephen, John let out of breath and dropped his hand from his waistband.

"Stephen was just leaving, weren't you?" As John spoke, the other man scowled and smoothly closed his knife, knowing he was outnumbered.

Before stepping away, he couldn't resist one last attempt. "Think about what I said, Thornton. Or you'll be sorry. You know what I'm saying?" He stepped closer to John, speaking quietly, and John could see the malice glinting in his dark eyes.

Not one that took kindly to being threatened, John gave a low growl, pushing the vile man to the ground, harder than he'd intended. Familiar blackness crept into the edges of his vision as he roared, "Don't you ever dare show your face here again! The next time I see you, I won't be so forgiving of your threats."

Stephen scrambled to his feet, flipping them the bird and calling over his shoulder as he fled, "We'll see about that, won't we?" He laughed while running down the street, a sinister sound hanging in the air as her disappeared around the corner.

Maggie

Though the night was still warm, the air thick and heavy, Maggie shivered as the maniacal laughter faded away. Even from a distance, she could see John's chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and regain his composure. She and Becca cautiously made their way towards the two remaining men.

"Maybe we should have involved the police earlier, boss," Maggie heard Nick saying quietly as the approached

John shook his head sharply, "You know we can't afford that kind of attention, especially not now. The press is already watching, ready for any sign of further trouble. They'd tear us apart." He looked up, noticing Becca and Maggie listening intently.

While Becca tried to pretend she hadn't overheard his comments, Maggie wasn't so discrete. "Nick is right, John, this isn't something you should handle on your own. The police could—"

He cut her off, "I'd be obliged if you'd mind your own business, Miss Hale. This doesn't involve you in the slightest." His sharp, sarcastic tone reminded Maggie of the last time they had really spoke, something she had been struggling to put far out of her mind.

Those feelings bubbling back to the surface irked her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, you do things your own way down here, the law be damned," she shot back, turning around, dragging Becca with her down the sidewalk. She didn't look back to see if he watched after her, though she knew he would.

She thought she heard John sigh and say, "It's not safe for them to walk alone, stay with them." But it could have been a trick of the wind. Either way, Nick appeared beside her, seeming nervous about leaving his boss behind on the shadowy street. Maggie got the distinct feeling that it wasn't safe for John to walk home alone, either. Deep inside, she said a silent prayer that he made it home, unharmed.

Later, after she'd driven home and snuck past her parent's room, she sat on her bed, thinking of how to respond to Eden's latest email. Maggie was incredibly happy that she had decided to at least communicate with her cousin and closest friend, even if it meant the constant reminder that she was ignoring all the other unread emails that had stacked up since she left Boston. Eden was still looking for an explanation but seemed to accept that Maggie was determined to stay in the South, for the time being. She was also looking for reassurance that Maggie was at least content, because beyond her flighty selfish airs, Eden deeply cared about her cousin and wanted her to be happy.

Regrettably, Maggie wasn't able to give her that reassurance. She felt bad as soon as she hit send but was desperately in need of someone to talk to. Becca wasn't an option, she'd be so offended at Maggie's private thoughts on her beloved city. Her father, mother, and aunt Dixie were all excluded as possibilities— they would find it hard to understand the complex feelings she was struggling with and trying to explain them would lead to a world of embarrassment. Eden was the obvious choice, and as she wrote out her thoughts, she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. Her cousin would just have to deal with the disappointment of knowing Maggie was secretly miserable.

I've never felt so unsafe before, Eden. Though most people are polite, there is an undercurrent of violence and unrest, just waiting to come to the surface. Oh, and there's one more thing that hell and Atlanta have in common. They're both scorching hot.

Her thoughts turned once more to John. Did he make home okay? Was he now in his own bedroom, thinking over the same events she was? Maggie's cheeks reddened at the thought of John in his bed, though it was ridiculous. She was no blushing virgin, but something about him made her feel like an awkward teenager again.

Enough. She chided her inner voice. The email was sent, the hour was late, and it was time for her to shut off her brain and get some rest. Even so, she lay awake most of the night, tossing and turning, thinking of a strong man full of concern for her safety.

John

He took a winding route home, trying to shake the suspicion that he was being followed. What he wouldn't give to have the security of Nick at his side, but the girls' safety was more important than his own. The city, like most cities, was never fully quiet, never completely asleep. Was he mistaking the usual noises for footsteps? Maybe he was being paranoid, but it took him twice the time to get home after walking in circles to shake the potentially imaginary tail.

Once in the safety of his own home, security system armed, and doors securely locked, he started trembling. This time it wasn't the anger that shook his body, but the other emotions of the night's events. Fear. Sadness. Loneliness. Guilt. He was a man that disliked violence, who had been forced down a violent path more times than he could count. He was acutely aware that he'd been prepared to neutralize that scumbag, Stephen, if the situation had called for it. Neutralize, he scoffed to himself, call it what it is, Thornton. Wouldn't be the first time you've killed a man. But those were the thoughts he fought tooth and nail, the ones that snuck up on him when he lowered his guard.

If only Maggie hadn't been there, hadn't once again felt the brunt of his temper. Why did she always see him at his worst? Though he shuddered to think of what would have happened if they hadn't appeared at that moment. He wasn't fooling himself, he knew it was either him or Stephen.

John didn't think he'd seen the last of that terrible man, either. He didn't think those sinister threats were empty, and he knew what hatred could do to a man. And Stephen hated him, though he wasn't sure why. Whatever the reason, John wouldn't go down without a fight. He didn't think Stephen knew who he was dealing with, but either way, he couldn't see a scenario where things ended well.

With a resigned sigh, John put on his pajamas and crept down to the music room. He needed the comfort and security of the melodies, to relax and clear his mind of the day's struggles. It wasn't long before he slumped against the chair, falling into a restless sleep filled with gunshots and blood.

In the early morning hours, he was startled awake by the house alarm blaring. Instantly alert, he weighed his options; his gun was safely in his room, probably too far away to be useful. The kitchen was much closer, so he darted in and grabbed the biggest knife he could find before sneaking towards the door. As he rounded the corner, the intruder caught sight of his shadow and made a run for the open door.

John was about to take off after them when he heard his mother's voice calling down the hall. "John? Is everything okay?" Instead of following the hooded figure, he locked the door and disabled the blaring alarm.

"It's okay mom, just a false alarm. I must not have pulled the door closed all the way, and the wind pushed it open." He didn't want to raise his mother's concern, since she had enough to worry about. There was nothing she could do about the situation, anyway. Grabbing the phone to call the security company and tell them the same story, he made his way to his room to get his handgun. John spent the rest of the night in front of the door, gun in hand, ready, in case the intruder decided to return. As dawn broke, he headed off to his room to get dressed for the new day, with bleary eyes and a heart that wouldn't stop racing.