Page 89 of Vengeful Melodies

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until Takoa’s hand grazes mine.

Kaiser pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs flying across the screen. His face drains of color. “They fucking brought up my rehab.” His voice is low, tense. “It was court-mandated. Not a scandal. I got clean. And they make it sound like I’m one snort away from falling apart.”

I reach for him, but Alix cuts in first, his hand curling around Kai’s shoulder.

“They mentioned my ex,” Alix says quietly. “Said I couldn’t handle heartbreak. That Vivian left me because I was unstable.” He huffs a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “They don’t know she sold my grandfather’s ashes for thirty goddamndollars. Stole my kit. My notebooks. My fucking lyrics. They didn’t mention that part.”

Bash doesn’t speak, just stares at the screen. I know he’s waiting for it—her name. His mother. It’s always lurking just behind the headlines, waiting to pounce.

Bash flinches when his phone lights up.

Mother.

Kaiser notices. “Don’t answer it,” he growls.

“She already saw it,” Bash mutters, voice detached. “She’ll be praying for my soul by sunrise. Probably told the church group I’ve been possessed by the whore of Babylon.”

Alix chokes on a laugh that sounds like pain.

Takoa hasn’t moved. His jaw flexes once, twice. Then he exhales.

“They leaked my medical records,” he says finally, barely more than a whisper. “Mentioned my prescriptions. My breakdown last winter.” His fingers tremble where they hang at his side, but he doesn’t hide them. “Said Heaven’s Guilt is only functioning because of meds and PR.”

No one speaks. The world buzzes around us—horns in the distance, a drunk couple laughing on the other side of the street—but all I can hear is the sound of them unraveling. Slowly. Carefully. Like someone pulled the first thread and now the seams are coming undone.

I feel the weight of their secrets press down like stones.

I wasn’t there for the past. I didn’t know the full stories. But now the world does. Or thinks it does. And I’m the common denominator in every photo, every angle, every whispered headline. The anonymous girl no longer so anonymous. The firestarter.

They look at me and I don’t know what I see in their eyes—blame, fear, protectiveness.

All three, maybe.

“We should go,” I say, voice barely audible.

Takoa nods, eyes still fixed on the TV like it's a ghost that’s come to life. He doesn’t speak again, but his hand finds the small of my back as we turn away, like he's making sure I'm still real. Still here. And I am..

?????

The RV rocks gently beneath us, the highway hums a low vibration through the floor. It’s the only sound aside from Jack’s soft snores, curled up like a loaf beside the small couch where I’ve camped out with my laptop in my lap and a cup of lukewarm tea forgotten in my hands.

The dim light overhead glows like a bruise—fitting, considering how everything feels tonight.

I should be working. I should be pulling analytics, drafting new social rollouts, managing the backlash with a calm PR front. That’s what a marketing and brand manager would do. That’s what I’m supposed to do.

Instead, I’m just... sitting. Breathing. Trying to ignore the hundred missed calls from news outlets and the venomous whispers on social media clawing through every inch of my identity. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be dragged into the fire.

But I stepped into it anyway. For them. And I would do it again, without questioning if it's the right decision because in my heart I know it is.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and soft footfalls move toward me. I don't even look up until I feel someone drop down beside me.

Kaiser.

He doesn’t say anything. Just gently pulls the cup from my hands, sets it on the counter, and tugs me sideways until I’m leaning against his chest. His hoodie smells like cedarwood andlaundry detergent, and his arms wrap around me like armor. Warm. Familiar. Safe.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Kai murmurs, voice thick with sleep and worry.

“Not hungry.”