Page 40 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Thirty Seven

Dreya

San Francisco is never quiet. Even now, late into the night, the city buzzes with honking cars, the soft hum of neon, and the warm, wet echo of recent rain rising from the pavement.

We decided to grab dinner to celebrate the band’s successful show—and, apparently, me. For thriving in my position. For staying on top of my schoolwork. For not completely unraveling under the weight of everything.

They said it was a celebration. But I know them. Know their eyes. The way they watch me like I’m something sacred and breakable all at once.

Like they’re proud of me.

Like they’re trying to make up for all the time I spend naked between them with the quiet, gentle moments in between.

The city blurs behind glass, neon lights bleeding into the black of night.

We step out of the restaurant together—Takoa, Bash, Alix, Kaiser, and me.

Laughter still lingers between us, sticky with wine and stolen glances.

It was meant to be a rare break. A quiet dinner.

No disguises, no fake smiles, just the five of us pretending the world doesn't watch us breathe.

But then the hum of conversation halts.

Inside, one of the televisions above the bar flickers with breaking news, and I feel it before I see it. A gut twist. A prickle down my spine. Bash notices first, head tilting just enough to catch the screen. His smile drops.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I turn. A news anchor with over-polished teeth and a voice like static announces a special segment.

“Heaven’s Guilt rocked by internal scandal. Sources claim the band is on the verge of collapse. Leaked footage shows a woman—name unknown—exiting their tour bus late at night in a robe. Fans speculate romantic entanglement. What else is Heaven’s Guilt hiding?”

Our phones blow up like landmines. Notifications explode—group chats, management, even family.

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 goddamn dollars.

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 and laundry 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.”

“You’ve gotta eat, Siren. Can’t burn yourself out.” Kai pauses, his fingers threading through my curls. “We already lost ourselves once. We’re not losing you, too.”

I close my eyes at that. The way he says it—we’re not losing you—makes something in me break and hold together at the same time.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I whisper. “It’s all spiraling and I feel like I’m the one dragging everyone down.”

“Hey.” Kai’s tone sharpens, tilting my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. “You saved us. You’re not dragging us anywhere.”

“But everyone’s watching now. Judging. Making things up. Saying you’re breaking up. Saying I ruined the band.”

“They’ve been saying shit since we picked up instruments,” Bash mutters from the opposite set of stairs that lead to their beds, barefoot and bleary-eyed, holding a bag of Doritos and two cans of Sprite like it’s some kind of midnight offering.

Alix follows behind him, shirtless and damp from a shower, crystal-green eyes focused on me as he leans against the counter. “You didn’t ruin anything, Darlin’. Vivian did more damage with thirty bucks and a stolen notebook than you ever could.”

I flinch at the mention. I’m still reeling from everything they told me earlier. Vivian pawning his grandfather’s ashes? Selling his lyrics? Stealing his drum kit and leaving him stranded in his worst grief?

And Kaiser—struggling with drug abuse and being thrown into rehab like it was a scandal to be hidden, not a cry for help.

Bash, institutionalized for what his family called ‘a moment of weakness.’

And Takoa... carrying guilt so heavy in his silence I could feel it radiating off his skin like smoke.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more like an outsider to their pain... or more desperate to be strong enough to stay in it.

“You guys all opened up tonight,” I say softly. “But I didn’t.”

Silence circles.

“You will,” Takoa’s voice finally says from behind me. He’s leaning in the doorway now, tall and dark-eyed, his presence somehow both heavy and grounding. “When you’re ready.”

I swallow hard and nod.

Because I want to. I want to tell them about David. About the texts. About the way my body remembers pain like it’s happening all over again.

But I’m still scared.

Still trying to find the strength to hand them that part of me.

Jack lifts his head and whines gently, nose nudging my ankle before laying back down. Bash flops beside me on the other side, tossing me a Sprite and opening the chips with a crinkle that somehow lightens the air.

“So... we hiding out tomorrow or letting the vultures circle?” he jokes.

Kaiser chuckles quietly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Both?”

Takoa walks over and drops a kiss on the top of my head like it’s second nature, and something inside me softens at that.