Page 18 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Alix

The bus hums beneath us, the road bleeding away from Remington, but inside me, everything tightens like a noose wrapped around my lungs.

I reach blindly for the sheets beside me.

Empty. Cold. But the hoodie she left behind still smells like her—pine, sweat, and something darker, something like warning inked on my skin.

I trace the scratches down my back—the ones she left last night, fresh and raw, burning deeper than any scar I’ve ever worn.

Not bruises, but holy hell, they’re confessions written in flesh.

Did I go too far? Did I push too hard? Her lips on my chest, soft but claiming, as if she wanted to brand me like the past meant nothing.

I step into the lounge, forcing my breath steady. Kaiser looks up, eyes sharp—like he can see the chaos spinning just beneath my skin. “You’re not fooling anyone, man.”

Bash flicks a cigarette butt into the tray with a lazy flick and smirks. “Yeah, Alix. You’ve got that ‘about to lose my mind’ look. Should we be worried?”

I want to snap at them, tell them to shut the hell up. Instead, I drop onto the couch, the ache in my back pulsing under the thin fabric. Her mark on me—unmistakable and too damn beautiful to hate.

Kaiser drums his fingers slowly on his thigh, the rhythm scraping at nerves I don’t want exposed. “Dreya’s trouble,” he says quietly, “not some muse you save with a few chords and promises.”

Bash leans in, voice low and dark. “She’s fire. Makes you dance or burn. No in-between.”

I meet their eyes, the desperation slipping out, raw and naked. “I don’t want to burn.”

“Neither does she,” Kaiser replies. “But she’ll make you want it. And you’ll let her.”

The words hit hard—like a punch I didn’t see coming. They see it: the obsession, the pull, the way she’s already got me fractured.

I’m trying to protect her, but inside I’m breaking apart. Because if she wants someone else—someone darker, someone better—I’ll have to watch her go. And I don’t know if I can survive that.

Bash stretches, shaking off the tension like dust. “Enough doom and gloom. Show to kill, road’s long. Focus up.”

Kaiser picks up his guitar, strumming a low chord. “Music’s what keeps us from tearing each other apart.”

I want to believe it. I want music to save me from losing her. But deep down, I know: Dreya’s not salvation. She’s reckoning. And I’m not sure I’m ready for the flames she’s dragging behind her.

Bash flicks his cigarette out the window, grinning like trouble personified. “If you two keep brooding, I’m charging admission.”

Kaiser laughs. “‘Alix and Dreya: A Tragedy in Three Acts.’ I’d buy a ticket just to watch the disaster.”

I force a laugh, bitter on my tongue. “Glad I’m the star attraction.”

Bash leans in, voice low, “You’re lead, man. But don’t forget who’s got backup vocals—and the fire extinguisher.”

Smoke curls between us, and for a moment, the weight lightens. Maybe we can joke about the wreckage instead of drowning in it.

I rub my neck, still burning with the ghost of her scratches, and admit, “I’m scared I pushed too hard last night. Maybe I broke something that can’t be fixed.”

Kaiser’s gaze softens, but his words cut deep. “You don’t fix fire, Al. You let it burn and hope it leaves something worth remembering.”

Bash claps me on the shoulder, grinning wide. “If she wanted easy, she’d have stayed with Bradley.”

I swallow the fragile hope threading through the dark. “Maybe she needs us to burn a little before we build something real.”

Silence falls—a quiet thunder—both warning and promise.

I let myself believe she might not run.

But even as that hope blooms, a dark whisper creeps in—what if she’s not running from me, but toward the chaos she’s always lived inside? What if I’m not the calm she needs, but just another storm waiting to break her?

I close my eyes, the memory burning hot—the way she stood before us last night, naked, owning every scar, every jagged edge like a weapon.

Her eyes never faltered when Bradley’s hateful stare landed on her, not once.

That moment—that fierce, broken beauty—cemented something in me I can’t shake.

She’s more than what we bargained for. She’s the reckoning, the destruction, the only chance we have to be something more.

But can I hold on without shattering first?

The question hangs heavy as the road stretches out before us. And the scratches on my back sting like the only truth I have left.