Time continued to pass, and the opening act reached its final minutes. Backstage, technicians were removing equipment, adjusting cables, and making one last check that every platform was in the correct position.
Taylor had already finished getting ready.
She stood in the middle of a circle formed by her dancers, musicians, and some of the key members of the crew. Everyone had their arms resting over the shoulders of the person beside them.
Around them, assistants and technicians continued working, but no one inside the circle paid any attention to the noise.
—We've been through too much to get this far —Taylor said, looking at the faces in front of her—. So let's go out there and make it worth it.
One of the dancers raised a hand.
—Let's go!
The others responded instantly.
—Let's go!
—Let's go!
The circle tightened for a second, and then everyone raised their arms as their voices echoed together through the corridor.
Dozens of people worked directly on the show. Including technical, security, production, and support staff, the number rose to several hundred.
Not one of them was willing to let months of hard work be destroyed by a single bastard.
The circle broke apart, and everyone headed toward their positions. The energy had changed; the nervousness was still there, but now it was accompanied by an almost electric determination.
Taylor moved forward with the dancers, but before turning toward the stage, she glanced over her shoulder.
Her eyes met Ethan's.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
—You can do this.
Taylor held his gaze for a moment and nodded.
The dancers went out first. They crossed the passageway and entered the stage with overwhelming energy as the audience responded with another wave of screams.
Taylor took a deep breath.
An assistant handed her a pair of white-framed sunglasses. She put them on, adjusted her microphone, and waited beside the concealed entrance leading to the stage.
—Ninety seconds —a voice announced through the crew's headsets.
Taylor closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, every trace of doubt had disappeared.
She began to walk.
Her steps were firm and confident, like those of a queen entering her own kingdom.
Ethan took a different route. He crossed a service corridor and headed toward one of the sides of the stage, from where he could observe part of the audience, the lower entrances, and the area Taylor would have to pass through when she came offstage.
Communications sounded constantly in his earpiece.
—West entrance, clear.
—Main tunnel, all clear.
—VIP area secured.
Ethan responded with a brief acknowledgment and took his position. From there, he could see the guards stationed along the barriers, plainclothes officers mingling with the audience, and several members of the tactical team positioned on the upper levels.
Then he looked toward the stands.
For several seconds, he remained completely still.
The opening act had already ended, and the stadium's main lights were off. Seventy-five thousand people occupied virtually every visible seat, as well as the entire designated area in front of the stage.
Thousands of glowing wristbands and phone screens shone in the darkness like stars. The murmur of the crowd gradually grew, fueled by anticipation, until it became a roar powerful enough to make the structure beneath Ethan's feet vibrate.
—Thirty seconds.
The giant screens went dark.
The stadium was plunged into almost complete darkness.
For the first time since Ethan had arrived, the thousands of voices began to fade. Not because the audience had calmed down, but because everyone was holding their breath at the same time.
—Ten seconds.
Ethan raised a hand to his earpiece and swept his gaze across the stands one more time.
—Five.
—Four.
—Three.
A first note rang out across the stadium.
And seventy-five thousand people erupted.
Each person held a glowing baton synchronized with the show's system.
With the first note, the light-up wristbands handed out to the audience began to glow.
One after another.
First hundreds. Then thousands.
Within seconds, a silver light spread across the stands, turning more than half of Soldier Field into an immense sea of stars. Each wristband blinked to the rhythm of the music, creating waves that swept across the stadium from one end to the other.
Several television helicopters circled the area from the distance permitted by the security operation. Their cameras captured both the inside of the stadium and the crowds gathered in the parking lots, parks, and nearby streets.
—This is insane! —a reporter exclaimed from one of the aircraft—. Unofficial estimates put the number of people gathered throughout this entire area at nearly two hundred thousand.
The aerial shot showed Soldier Field surrounded by a mass of people stretching far beyond its entrances. Screens set up outside were broadcasting the concert, and thousands of fans without tickets watched from wherever they could.
—This is a full-blown celebration! —the reporter continued—. There are people inside and outside the stadium, in the parking lots, and even gathered several blocks away.
Inside, the main lights dimmed even further. The wristbands began to wave more intensely, and the murmur of the audience transformed into a roar that was answered by the crowd outside.
For a few seconds, everything seemed to become part of a single voice.
Ethan pressed one hand against his earpiece to make out the communications. The noise was so brutal that he could feel the vibrations passing through his chest.
Then the music began.
Fast.
Urgent.
The three giant screens on the stage lit up simultaneously, displaying images of a city made of lights and neon lines. In the center of the platform, a hidden hatch began to open.
A dozen dancers appeared first.
Spotlights burst over them, and the audience responded with another wave of screams.
Then, amid the flashes, Taylor emerged from the center of the stage as if she had been launched from beneath the floor. She wore the white sunglasses, the silver jacket, and held the microphone high above her head.
—Welcome to Chicago!
Her voice rang across Soldier Field.
Seventy-five thousand people responded at once, and the roar rose toward the sky.
The music kicked in fully, and Taylor opened the concert with Welcome to New York.
Ethan couldn't help smiling at the contradiction. She had just welcomed the Chicago audience before immediately launching into a song dedicated to New York.
No one seemed to care.
It was one of the biggest hits from her most recent album, and the first few bars were enough to send the entire stadium into an explosion of excitement.
The LED screens positioned to the left, right, and center of the stage worked in perfect synchronization. The images changed with the rhythm of the music, spotlights swept across the stands, and the audience's wristbands responded with new patterns of light.
The result was breathtaking.
Once the initial surprise had passed, Ethan turned his attention away from the show.
He wasn't there to enjoy the concert.
His priority was still Taylor.
He scanned the front rows, the barriers, the side entrances, and the upper levels. Then he checked the access points beneath the stands and the guards positioned around the stage.
—West side, all clear —Halstead reported through the earpiece.
—VIP area clear —Burgess added.
Ethan pressed the radio without taking his eyes off the crowd.
—Backstage secured. Keep your eyes open.
Taylor moved across the stage as thousands of people sang along with her.
Ethan, meanwhile, continued searching for a face that had no business being there.
Around him, backstage continued operating like a massive machine. Technicians and production crew hurried between cables, platforms, and sound equipment, while security personnel watched every door and every entrance to the stage.
Private guards, uniformed police officers, and plainclothes agents were stationed throughout the stadium. Some remained clearly visible beside the barriers; others were dressed as technicians, assistants, or ordinary spectators so they could blend into the crowd.
Ethan had never attended a concert of that scale. Even so, for someone accustomed to police operations, the deployment seemed excessive.
Exactly as it should be.
He decided to test the Radar.
The ability remained active for barely a couple of seconds.
His field of perception filled with thousands of glowing points that began overlapping until they formed an impossible mass to interpret. Audience members, employees, police officers, dancers, and technicians appeared all at once, leaving him no room to distinguish a specific presence.
Ethan deactivated the ability before the pressure could start giving him a headache.
Useless.
The Radar wasn't designed to cover a stadium filled with tens of thousands of people. It worked much better at close range, where he could separate each presence and detect movement behind a wall or a door.
Rooms, corridors, buildings, and close-quarters combat.
That was its usual territory.
He would have to rely on his eyes, the cameras, and the rest of the team. He could use the ability again when Taylor returned backstage, but in front of a crowd this large, it only overloaded his senses.
Onstage, Taylor was giving it everything she had.
The sleepy young woman who had walked down the stairs that morning had disappeared completely. In her place was the performer Ethan had seen during rehearsals: confident, energetic, and capable of controlling seventy-five thousand people with a single movement.
Every step matched the music. Every gesture drew a response from the audience.
The superstar had returned.
After several songs, Taylor disappeared through one side of the stage while the dancers continued with the transition. Ethan was already waiting for her at the end of the passageway.
Those transitions were the most delicate moments. Onstage, Taylor was surrounded by dancers, cameras, and thousands of eyes; backstage, on the other hand, she had to make her way through narrow corridors crowded with technicians, assistants, and equipment.
Ethan briefly activated the Radar, checked the nearby rooms, and escorted her to the quick-change area.
Several assistants rushed toward Taylor the moment she passed through the curtain. Some removed her jacket and skirt while others handed her the next outfit, adjusted her microphone, and touched up her hair.
Ethan remained outside, watching the corridor.
Less than thirty seconds later, Taylor emerged again.
Ethan blinked.
The new outfit was much bolder: black leather shorts, tall boots, and a sparkling garment that reflected every light backstage. He had no idea what material it was made of, but by this point he had already realized something.
Taylor loved wearing anything that sparkled onstage.
She was also holding a black golf club, obviously part of the next performance.
—How do I look? —she asked.
She placed both hands on the club, shifted her hips slightly, and struck a provocative pose.
Ethan let his gaze travel over the outfit before refocusing on her face.
—Not very discreet.
—That's the point.
Taylor understood perfectly that his eyes had said considerably more than his words, and she let out a satisfied laugh.
She twirled the golf club between her fingers and began walking toward the stage.
—Listen closely to the next song.
Ethan walked beside her.
—Why?
Taylor glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
—Consider it a hint.
She smiled and disappeared down the passageway leading to the stage.
Ethan stopped beside the entrance and raised an eyebrow.
A hint?
What hint?
In truth, he wasn't too concerned about that.
His gaze involuntarily returned to the shorts as Taylor walked away. One of the nearby staff members watched him with mild disapproval.
The next song was Blank Space, and the first few bars were enough to raise the energy in the stadium even higher. Taylor walked along the catwalk, singing about failed romances, former boyfriends, and that blank space that could be reserved for a new name.
Then Ethan understood.
That was the hint.
The audience's wristbands simultaneously turned red, and all of Soldier Field seemed to transform into an enormous sea of fire. Taylor spun around, placed one hand on her hip, and walked back toward the center of the stage with the confidence of a model on a runway. Her blonde hair swayed with every movement as the golf club spun between her fingers.
The band continued playing, and Taylor followed the choreography for almost the entire song.
Almost.
When she reached the center of the stage again, she planted the end of the club against the floor and turned her back to the audience. Instead of performing the rehearsed movement, she turned her head toward one side.
Toward where Ethan was supposed to be.
She repeated the part of the song about that blank space and the possibility of writing a new name. When she finished, she tilted her head slightly, let her hair fall back, and winked toward the darkness.
The stage lights were too bright for her to make him out clearly.
But she didn't need to see him.
She knew exactly where he was.
The change in choreography caught the production team by surprise, although the director reacted in time. One of the cameras positioned behind the stage captured Taylor's face and projected the wink onto all three giant screens.
Soldier Field exploded.
—Ahhhhh!
Seventy-five thousand people reacted almost simultaneously. The screams rose as the red wristbands waved throughout the stands.
To the audience, the wink was part of the show.
Ethan knew it wasn't.
Hidden in the darkness at the side of the stage, he tried to maintain an impassive expression. He managed it for a few seconds, but eventually the corners of his mouth began to lift.
So that was the hint.
He had to admit it.
It had been pretty good.
Receiving a public wink from a woman adored by millions of people produced a feeling that was rather difficult to describe.