Page 5 of Vengeful Melodies

“You think this is the last tour?” Grey asks as we step inside.

I shoot him a look. “Do you think you’ll always work under this so-called friend of yours?”

He shrugs. “Not the same. I’m just a goldfish in your koi pond. No one’s coming to see me when you’re the one who saves souls.”

I snort. “You tattoo lyrics on people.”

“Exactly. The lyricsyouwrote.” He pauses. “I did ten tribute tattoos just this week. People want to wear the pain you turn into music.”

His voice is rough, low. It cuts deep.

He’s not wrong.

But I’ll never tell him. His ego would explode.

“If they knew how broken we really are… how we can’t even save ourselves—they’d give up on us completely,” I say softly, stepping into the room.

It’s dim at first. Then the lights buzz to life.

That familiar black leather chair sits in the center of the room. My throne. My therapy.

I smirk. “Be a doll, baby boy. Make this one hurt.”

I slip off my jacket, toss the wig and hat aside, peel off the sunglasses hiding my eyes.

“Thank God you took off that ridiculous wig. Blonde doesn’t suit you. Makes your skin look sickly,” Grey grumbles, prepping the station.

He’s tried to teach me the tools. Even let me try tattooing myself once. The result? A crooked, sad excuse for a heart on my thigh.

“You excited for the show?” he asks. “Bash and Kai said this is the fourth sold-out arena. Tickets dropped last week, and you only get five VIPs. I already claimed one.”

“You’d be backstage anyway,” I say, flashing a crooked smile. “Five or not.”

Grey blushes but doesn’t respond. He focuses on the stencil he presses to my freshly shaved arm.

“Don’t flirt with me. I know you too well,” he mutters.

The machine whirs to life. The buzz is oddly comforting.

I watch as he works—black ink bleeding into my skin, forming the silhouette of our fallen angel logo. It’s familiar. It’s home.

Four hours pass. My arm throbs, the fresh ink wrapped in a protective layer.

Grey rattles off care instructions like a machine, handing me ointment.

“I’ll see you at the show,” I say, slipping back into my disguise.

He nods. “Be safe, brother.”

As I head out, my phone buzzes. Probably Kai or Bash wondering where the hell I am.

I don’t know why we’re rehearsing every single day like we’re new to this. We’ve done this before. Hell, this is oursecondtour.

At this point, it’s burned into our bones.

Chapter Three

Dreya