Page 47 of Vengeful Melodies

My breath stutters as I try to hold myself together.

They have so much power over my life—over what comes next. We’ve barely been on the road a day, and I’m already tangled in something too sharp, too fast, too everything.

What if I ruin it? What if I’m reading it all wrong?

We barely know each other—strangers, really. And yet my soul feels like it remembers theirs. Like it’s been waiting for this collision my whole life.

But what if I don’t belong? What if I fuck it all up and end up alone again? Surrounded by silence where something beautiful should have been?

My throat tightens until I can barely breathe.

“What if I’m not the right fit?” I choke out. “You guys have so much at stake, and I…” Words fail me. “I don’t even trust myself right now. How can you?”

“No,” Takoa says softly. “We’re not asking you to be sure. We’re hoping you’ll stay. And maybe, when you’re ready—you’ll give yourself the faith you deserve.”

My eyes sting. Damn him. Damn his patience. His eyes like dusk and understanding.

“I don’t want to be a mistake,” I whisper, hating how small I sound.

“You’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re the reason we’re still here.”

The lump in my throat swells and my voice cracks.

“I’m scared.”

He doesn’t reach for me or try to fix the broken pieces.

He just leans forward, elbows on knees, voice steady and low.

“Then let’s be scared together. Take it slow. No more lines blurred unless you draw them.”

I look at him. Really look.

No seduction in his eyes. No hunger ready to devour me.

Just want.

Steady. Patient. Present.

“I don’t want to break this,” I murmur.

His smile is small and fragile—like glass ready to shatter.

“Then don’t. Just… build it differently.”

I let those words settle like an anchor instead of a weight.

For the first time in forever, I breathe.

The bus shudders as the miles pass beneath us, wet asphalt stretching out in front.

Takoa opens the worn book—Beast of the Briarby Helen Elizabeth—its cover softened by time, the pages whispering secrets.

“You ever read this?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, fingers tracing the spine.

“It’s a dark retelling ofBeauty and the Beast,” he says, “but with a twist. It’s awhy choosestory—a reverse harem, where the beauty doesn’t have to pick just one beast. She’s pulled between multiple kings, each with his own darkness and desire.”