Page 10 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Ten

Bash

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Grey turns toward me, grinning like the cat that got the cream. That smug, all-knowing expression makes me want to knock it right off his face.

Christ. Couldn’t my best friend be ugly for once? Just once? It’d make staying pissed a hell of a lot easier if I wasn’t staring at someone who looks like trouble dressed in leather.

When we agreed to hire Dreya, I had a picture in my head: someone harmless. Forgettable. The kind of girl you could pass on the street without looking twice. Not… this. Not someone who walks into a room and shifts the gravity so every fucking thing in me tilts toward her without my permission.

“What would I have said? What exactly are you mad about, Bashy?” Grey asks, tilting his head like he’s holding cards I’ll never get to see.

“That our newest hire is basically sex on legs?” I snap. “Did we even see the same woman, or did Wren steal what’s left of your attention span?”

The irritation in my voice surprises me — sharp and raw — and I don’t even know where to aim it. At Grey, for keeping her a secret? At myself, for caring? Or at her, for making me feel something I haven’t in a long damn time.

Because for one dangerous heartbeat, I imagined what it’d be like to let her in.

Not like Kai. Kai’s destruction wrapped in a pretty bow, the kind I drink down knowing it’ll kill me slow.

Dreya’s different. She’s light — blinding, dangerous light — and part of me wonders if I could burn myself clean in it.

Which is exactly why she’s a fucking problem.

Grey’s tone shifts, steady but heavy. “Beauty’s different for everyone.

Yeah, Dreya’s gorgeous. But I also see the broken parts in her.

She needed this job. Not because I could fall for her best friend, but because I saw her .

Saw her shatter after catching that idiot ex-fiancé cheating.

I saw her darkness, and the empath in me wanted to take it away — like I did for you four. ”

That digs under my skin more than I’d like to admit. I don’t want saving. Not really.

“So sue me for being a good fucking person and keeping her looks to myself,” Grey adds, shrugging. “Well, from three of you — Alix already met her. And, since we’re being truthful, she might have kissed him in front of said cheating ex.”

That one hits like a sucker punch, though I can’t explain why.

“And you’re sure bringing her around us is smart?” I ask, my voice low. “Everything we touch turns to shit, Grey. We’re barely holding ourselves together.”

“Honestly?” His brow quirks.

“Always.”

“I think she’s the only thing that could save you guys. Give it a chance. If I’m wrong, thank her and let her go. But give it until Europe.”

He says it like he’s already sure. Like she’s already in the band’s bloodstream.

I shake my head slowly. “One chance. That’s all. We can’t afford another distraction, no matter how beautiful she is.”

But even as I say it, the truth presses in. I don’t want to resist her. I want the chaos she could bring. I want the burn, the spiral, the sweet fucking disaster.

We’re in my car minutes later, Grey lounging in the passenger seat while I pull out onto the road. The city flickers past — glass, brick, and shadows stitched together by streaks of neon. My hands are steady on the wheel, but my thoughts keep drifting back to her.

The radio’s low, some melancholy track bleeding through the speakers. Without thinking, I start humming along. The melody’s slow and aching, the kind that seeps into your bones. I’m not even sure I know the song, but it’s in me now, curling around the image of her in my head.

Grey glances over, one eyebrow cocked. “Didn’t know you liked this one.”

I don’t answer. Because it’s not about the song — it’s about the way it’s creeping into me the same way she did. Quiet. Uninvited. And now it’s stuck.

We turn down a side street, headlights sweeping over cracked pavement and a narrow curb where Alix is leaning against a lamppost, hood up, cigarette glowing in the dark.

I ease the car to the curb, engine rumbling low. Alix pushes off the pole with that lazy stride of his, flicking the cigarette to the gutter before yanking the door open and sliding into the back seat.

“Evenin’,” he says, his Aussie drawl laid-back and warm, like every word’s got time to stretch. He’s already spinning a drumstick between his fingers, tapping it against his knee like he’s warming up before he’s even touched the kit.

“What’s the vibe tonight?” he asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Apparently salvation wrapped in trouble,” Grey mutters, buckling his seat-belt.

Alix huffs a small laugh. “Reckon that’s our brand.”

I pull away from the curb, the city swallowing us again. The song on the radio changes, but the rhythm in my head stays the same, keeping time with the beat of the tires against the asphalt. My humming follows it, low and steady.

By the time we roll up to the venue, the line of fans is already spilling down the block, their voices carrying in the summer night.

The bass from the opening band’s soundcheck thumps faintly through the brick walls.

I kill the engine, the hum in my throat tapering off, though the tune still lingers in my head.

Security waves us through the back entrance. Inside, the air shifts — cooler, sharper, full of cables and equipment cases stacked like building blocks. The familiar scent of stale beer and stage smoke clings to everything.

We split without thinking. Grey heads toward the tech crew, muttering something about the lighting rig. Alix disappears toward the drum kit, drumstick still spinning, probably already plotting some complicated fill to screw with the rest of us mid-song.

I hang back for a moment, the hallway stretching in front of me. The hum threatens to rise again, unspooling in my chest.

Because the song isn’t just a song anymore. It’s the echo of her voice, her laugh, the way she’s been sliding into the spaces between the beats of my life. And I’ve got a set to play tonight, but my head’s already somewhere else entirely.