Page 52 of Vengeful Melodies

Before I can even settle in, Takoa drops down beside me, phone in hand. “You ever readFalling for a Lie?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“The main female lead’s a total badass,” he says, leaning back against the cushions. “She’s drowning in all the crap life keeps throwing at her, but she doesn’t break. Finds six guys who’d burn the whole damn world for her. Not just romance—survival. Trust.”

He studies me for a moment, like maybe he’s wondering if I’d get it on a level he can’t outright say. “It’s good. You’d like it.”

“I’ll have to look it up tonight,” I say, tucking my legs under me. “When I finishGlass and Grimby J.A. Welch. You should read that one—it’s a paranormal reverse harem. The men and Amri aredelicious, and it sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile too much. “I’ll add it to my list.”

By the time we’ve butchered “Smoke on the Water” on both guitar and drums, the muted rock documentary on the TV has turned into a comedy show thanks to Bash doing fake voice-overs. Kaiser’s wheezing with laughter.

Somehow I end up wedged in the middle of the couch—Takoa on one side, Alix stretched out on the other, Bash on the floor leaning back against my knees, Kai sprawled with an arm draped along the back like it belongs there. The movie now is some ridiculous action flick, and Kaiser keeps pointing out plot holes while Bash defends them like he wrote the damn script.

The big bowl of popcorn in my lap is half caramel, half salty. Bash steals handfuls without looking. Alix digs for the caramel pieces with a smug grin. Takoa picks out the burnt kernels like it’s a personal mission.

I should feel out of place in the middle of them all. Instead, I feel anchored. Wrapped up in their laughter, their easy jabs, their closeness.

For the first time in a long time, the chaos around me feels safe.

And when I glance at Bash, I catch something in his expression—like maybe he’s realizing it too. Like he’s tired of letting his demons steal every good thing, and tonight, he’s taking some of it back.

Later, when the laughter fades and the lights are low, the bus grows quiet except for the steady rumble of the road. The guysdrift to their bunks, but I curl up in my bed with Jack at my feet, scrolling my phone in the soft glow of the screen.

Wren’s name pops up with an incoming call. I grin and answer.

“Miss me already?” I tease.

“Please,” he scoffs. “You’d be crying if I didn’t check in on you. I’m your emotional support rockstar.”

“You’re my emotional supportdrama queen,” I correct.

He chuckles, and I can picture him—feet up somewhere in his own part of the bus, probably wearing that smug half-smile that makes people think he’s charming when he’s actually planning to annoy them.

“You eating okay?” he asks. “Or are you surviving on coffee and spite again?”

“I had real food,” I say. “Kaiser cooked.”

“Wow. Did you thank him for keeping you from dying of starvation, or are you still pretending you’re self-sufficient?”

“Still pretending,” I admit with a smirk.

He makes a mock-wounded sound. “And here I am, sacrificing my ears to your endless ranting, and you can’t even admit you need me?”

“Oh, Ineedyou,” I say lightly, drawing out the words just enough to make it teasing. “Mostly for comedic relief and to carry the heavy shit.”

“You wound me, sunshine. I thought I was your number one.”

“You’re my number one pain in the ass,” I shoot back.

His laugh is warm and easy, threading into the quiet night. “Don’t forget it. Now get some sleep before the guys start a betting pool on how long you last without crashing.”

We talk for a few more minutes—nothing important, just the kind of nonsense only best friends can stretch into a whole conversation. By the time we hang up, my chest feels lighter.

The bus hums on, steady and sure, and I close my eyes knowing the people I care about are only feet away, scattered across two buses, all carried forward by the same road.

Chapter Twenty Three