Page 27 of Vengeful Melodies

“That our newest hire is basically sex on legs?” I snap. “Did we even see the same woman, or did Wren steal what’s left of your attention span?”

The irritation in my voice surprises me — sharp and raw — and I don’t even know where to aim it. At Grey, for keeping her a secret? At myself, for caring? Or at her, for making me feel something I haven’t in a long damn time.

Because for one dangerous heartbeat, I imagined what it’d be like to let her in.

Not like Kai. Kai’s destruction wrapped in a pretty bow, the kind I drink down knowing it’ll kill me slow.

Dreya’s different. She’s light — blinding, dangerous light — and part of me wonders if I could burn myself clean in it.

Which is exactly why she’s a fucking problem.

Grey’s tone shifts, steady but heavy. “Beauty’s different for everyone. Yeah, Dreya’s gorgeous. But I also see the broken parts in her. She needed this job. Not because I could fall for her best friend, but because I sawher. Saw her shatter after catching that idiot ex-fiancé cheating. I saw her darkness, and the empath in me wanted to take it away — like I did for you four.”

That digs under my skin more than I’d like to admit. I don’t want saving. Not really.

“So sue me for being a good fucking person and keeping her looks to myself,” Grey adds, shrugging. “Well, from three of you — Alix already met her. And, since we’re being truthful, she might have kissed him in front of said cheating ex.”

That one hits like a sucker punch, though I can’t explain why.

“And you’resurebringing her around us is smart?” I ask, my voice low. “Everything we touch turns to shit, Grey. We’re barely holding ourselves together.”

“Honestly?” His brow quirks.

“Always.”

“I think she’s the only thing that could save you guys. Give it a chance. If I’m wrong, thank her and let her go. But give it until Europe.”

He says it like he’s already sure. Like she’s already in the band’s bloodstream.

I shake my head slowly. “One chance. That’s all. We can’t afford another distraction, no matter how beautiful she is.”

But even as I say it, the truth presses in.

I don’t want to resist her.

I want the chaos she could bring. I want the burn, the spiral, the sweet fucking disaster.

We’re in my car minutes later, Grey lounging in the passenger seat while I pull out onto the road. The city flickers past — glass, brick, and shadows stitched together by streaks of neon. My hands are steady on the wheel, but my thoughts keep drifting back to her.

The radio’s low, some melancholy track bleeding through the speakers. Without thinking, I start humming along. The melody’s slow and aching, the kind that seeps into your bones. I’m not even sure I know the song, but it’s in me now, curling around the image of her in my head.

Grey glances over, one eyebrow cocked. “Didn’t know you liked this one.”

I don’t answer. Because it’s not about the song — it’s about the way it’s creeping into me the same way she did. Quiet. Uninvited. And now it’s stuck.

We turn down a side street, headlights sweeping over cracked pavement and a narrow curb where Alix is leaning against a lamppost, hood up, cigarette glowing in the dark.

I ease the car to the curb, engine rumbling low. Alix pushes off the pole with that lazy stride of his, flicking the cigarette to the gutter before yanking the door open and sliding into the back seat.

“Evenin’,” he says, his Aussie drawl laid-back and warm, like every word’s got time to stretch. He’s already spinning a drumstick between his fingers, tapping it against his knee like he’s warming up before he’s even touched the kit.

“What’s the vibe tonight?” he asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Apparently salvation wrapped in trouble,” Grey mutters, buckling his seat-belt.

Alix huffs a small laugh. “Reckon that’s our brand.”

I pull away from the curb, the city swallowing us again. The song on the radio changes, but the rhythm in my head stays the same, keeping time with the beat of the tires against the asphalt. My humming follows it, low and steady.