Page 31 of Vengeful Melodies

“That’s why we keep it quiet,” Koa says firmly. “She’s not a secret. Not bait. But we protect her. Period.”

We nod.

Because we know the game.

We know what the fans can do.

We know what she’ll suffer if this gets out too soon.

“Five minutes,” Koa says softly. “Are we ready?”

I nod. “We don’t have a choice.”

“It’s time,” Bash says, shoulders squared.

“Let’s show them we’re still the men they fell in love with,” Koa adds.

Bash hands me a shot. The burn shoots down my throat, settling a fire in my gut.

No more hiding.

No more lies.

I barely notice when Bash and Koa step forward, their voices fading beneath the roar of my own pulse.

I nod to their words, but the second the door shuts behind them, I’m gone—slipping through the maze of cables and gear, away from the noise, the stares, the weight of her eyes.

I find a narrow corner near the loading bay, shadows swallowing me like a refuge.

Leaning back against cold concrete, I close my eyes and let the world blur.

Breathe.

But the breath catches in my throat.

I want to rewind, go back to the night we kissed—the way her lips tasted, the softness I wasn’t supposed to crave.

I want to pretend none of this is real.

That she’s just some stranger who won a ticket, not the woman who’s dug her way into my skin.

My hands shake—part nerves, part something deeper.

I curse myself for caring. For wanting. For hoping.

Perfection. That’s all Takoa demands. But right now, my perfection is fractured.

The drums call to me—the beast waiting to be tamed. But I’m not ready yet. Not until I find some piece of myself that isn’t tangled up in her shadow.

I tap out a rhythm on the concrete, slow and steady. My heartbeat trying to sync.

I’m a ghost with a microphone.

A shadow behind the flames.

But maybe tonight, I can be more.

Because no matter what, the stage is waiting. And so is she.