“I know things haven’t been easy these past few weeks, and some of that was my fault. I pressured you too hard to worry about what the producers wanted and about winning votes, and I apologize for that. Your brand and your image are important, but this industry can drag you down and turn you into someone you’re not. Don’t ever lose sight of who you are—both individually and as a band.”

He nodded at each of us in turn, and I knew he was referring to what had happened this week. Dan had never questioned my departure or my return; he’d just accepted it, and I was so grateful to him for that. He’d given us space to work out our issues, and we were stronger because of it.

“You may not be what the producers want, but I know you can win this thing,” he continued. “You’re the most talented, most original band on the show, and the fans love you. And no matter what happens, I’m proud to have been your mentor.”

He hugged each of us and wished us luck and then took his place with the other mentors in front of the stage. Yes, Dan might have given us some bad advice, but he truly cared about us and wanted us to succeed. We’d learned so much from him in the past few weeks, and I was really glad I’d spilled coffee on Angel that day.

The lounge was mostly empty with only three other bands still on the show. While we waited for our turn to go on stage, Jared did his vocal exercises, Hector stretched his neck and shoulders, and Kyle paced back and forth. I flexed my wrists and fingers, trying to loosen myself up a bit. Tonight we’d gone for the full-out rock star look after Dan had pointed out that we were the only true rock band left. Black clothes and boots. Studded belts. Silver jewelry. Leather jackets. And Hector wore his normal Villain Complex hat, of course.

On the screens, we watched Brazen do a Katy Perry cover and Not Too Calm perform their song from the audition, which I barely remembered. Finally, it was our turn with “Behind the Mask.”

When the stage rotated and we were hit with the lights and the roar of the crowd, I didn’t know how I’d ever thought I could give this up. That familiar rush of adrenaline and endorphins swept through me, like a hit of my favorite drug, and I clutched my guitar, ready to begin.

We usually jumped right into our songs when the stage finished turning, since the producers were such crazy sticklers to the schedule, but Hector didn’t start us off. Was there a problem? I turned to look at him and heard Jared speak into his mic.

“Before we start this song, there’s something I need to say.”