Page 25 of Vengeful Melodies

“I look forward to introducing you to the others,” he says.

Wren jumps in. “You guys are gonna kill it tonight,” locking eyes with Grey in a way that lingers.

“Happy birthday, Dreya,” Grey says as they leave, quiet and warm.

“Thanks, Grey.”

Jack spins happy circles around them on their way out, earning extra pets and praise like the attention hog he is.

When the door clicks shut, silence settles around us.

I turn toward Wren, who already has his hands raised in surrender.

“Okay. I love you. But when Grey said he needed to drop off paperwork, I didn’t expect him to show up with Sebastian-freaking-rockstar. I panicked.”

“You couldn’t text me?” I groan. “I looked like a hobo in front of a walking sex dream and the man you’re currently trying to flirt into a relationship.”

“To be fair,” he says, dodging a swat to his arm, “you looked adorably like a hobo.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you more, Jupey.” He pokes my nose with a smug little smirk.

“Also,” I say, dropping into a seat, “can we talk about Bash? What the hell? Does Grey collect attractive men like Pokémon or something?”

“I think he might,” Wren snickers. “Did you see the way Bash couldn’t take his eyes off you?”

“He was not,” I lie.

“He was. Also, the bus thing? You sure you’re okay with that?”

“I’ll be fine. They gave me my own room—it’s actually… thoughtful. And if Grey trusts them, I think I can too.”

“You’re really doing it,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades. “We’re taking our lives back.”

I nod, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“I guess so. I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. We are doing this — taking our lives back.” I say it more to myself than to him, the words shaky but determined.

“Atta girl. Now, we don’t have much time to get ready. I kinda let you sleep in late because I knew you’d need it,” Wren admits, his voice soft, almost bashful. I lift my head and give him a grateful nod.

It’s the first time in what feels like forever that I’ve been able to fall asleep and just... be at peace.

“Do you have something to wear? Sebastian brought some band tees for us,” Wren says, nodding toward the two neat piles of shirts on the counter.

“How’d he know my size?” I ask, curiosity pulling me toward the soft black tee on top. The band’s name is printed across the chest in blood-red script, with a man engulfed in flamesstanding in front of what looks like a broken church — or maybe a burning cross near the building.

“Oh, Grey asked last night. I didn’t know what it was for, though,” Wren shrugs.

I pick up the top shirt, noticing each one underneath is different — same font and color, but unique designs.

“Well, I’m gonna get a shower and start getting ready. The ticket says we should be there by 6:30,” I say, glancing at the clock.

“It’s already 2, and the venue’s thirty-five minutes away,” Wren reminds me.

Shit. No time to drag my feet. I refuse to let the others see me the way Sebastian did — raw, unguarded, exposed.

I rush from the kitchen, almost tripping over Jack, who darts between my legs.