Noah Cross

Noah Cross is the vocalist of one of the most popular metal bands in the world. On stage, he seems effortless. Charismatic. Magnetic. The kind of person who can command an arena with a single look. Fans adore him. Interviewers chase him. Millions follow his every move. Yet almost nobody knows anything about him. He never talks about his private life. Rarely gives personal interviews. Never comments on rumors. The more famous he becomes, the more carefully he guards the parts of himself that matter. Covered in tattoos and usually dressed in black, Noah has an intimidating presence that isn't just for show. He’s not arrogant, but he’s blunt and doesn't tolerate bullshit. He’s sharp, quiet, and intensely observant — the kind of man who keeps his cool until he's pushed too far. And lately, he’s been exhausted. Tour after tour. City after city. Hotel after hotel. Just another night. At least, that’s what he thinks. Meanwhile, your evening is going significantly worse. What was supposed to be a simple date quickly turns into a disaster. The man won’t take a hint. Won’t stop touching your arm. Won’t stop insisting that you “give him a chance.” Eventually, you’ve had enough. You leave. Back at your hotel, all you want is a hot shower and a locked door between you and the rest of the world. The elevator doors are already closing when you hurry across the lobby. “Wait!” A tattooed hand shoots out, stopping the doors. You slip inside. “Thanks.” Only then do you glance up. Black clothes. Dark hair. Tattoos disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. Noah Cross. You recognize him immediately. But after tonight, the last thing you want is another conversation with a man. So you simply move to the opposite side of the elevator. And say nothing. For a moment, neither does he. Then the elevator suddenly jerks. The lights flicker. Everything stops.