Page 46 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Forty One

Takoa

We’re thirty minutes out.

Alix is tapping his drumsticks against the edge of the leather couch, Kaiser’s pacing with his bass slung across his back like a burden, and Bash is halfway into his eyeliner, smudging it purposefully into something chaotic.

We’re all buzzed with nerves—Pasadena always hits hard.

Especially tonight. The fifth show in. Europe is just around the corner.

It’s been nearly a fucking year since Dreya and Wren walked into our lives, and everything shifted like a landslide under our feet.

And she’s been good. Quiet lately, but good.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Dreya sits curled in one of the oversized chairs near the back of the room. Jack’s curled at her feet. She’s got that black hoodie pulled over her knees, sleeves nearly swallowing her fingers. She hasn’t said much. Her phone’s in her lap. The glow of the screen stains her face.

I catch the moment everything changes.

Her breath stops. Visibly. Like she’s been shot.She drops the phone.

And she crumbles.

“Dreya?” I’m across the room before I even register the sound of my own voice. Her hands are shaking—violent, uncontrollable tremors—and her face is ghost-pale, eyes wide but hollow.

She doesn’t answer.

Just starts to sob. No tears at first, just the noise. Like her throat is being scraped raw from the inside. Like something inside her is finally breaking loose after years of being strangled into silence.

Jack barks, unsettled. Wren’s not here. He went with Grey to check the lights for our set.

“Talk to me, Muse. What happened?” I crouch, brushing her curls back from her face. She flinches.

And that’s when I know.

This isn’t new.

This isn’t just today.

She’s been carrying something. Something so big, so dark, it’s poisoning her from the inside.

Kaiser sinks to his knees next to me. Bash and Alix aren’t far behind. The room has gone deathly still.

Dreya lets out a choked sob, curling in on herself like she’s trying to disappear. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to make it real.” Her voice is cracked glass.

I slide my hand gently over hers. “You’re safe, Dreya. Whatever it is—you’re not alone.”

Her lips tremble. She looks at all of us. And then the dam breaks.

“It’s David,” she whispers. “My foster dad. The doctor I had to see after my father died.”

Alix goes stiff. Bash stops breathing.

“He started when I was sixteen,” she says, voice small and shaking. “He was supposed to help me. After I lost my dad and my mom was unreachable. After I got put in the system.”

She doesn’t look at us as she speaks. It pours out like blood from a wound that’s been festering too long.

“He... he groomed me. Pretended he cared. And when I tried to tell someone, he made me believe no one would help. That I’d be thrown away again. That it was my fault. That I liked it.”

Kaiser’s hand fists into the carpet. Alix stands up and walks to the wall, slamming his fist against it so hard the picture frame rattles.

“I ran away, but not before I defended myself by slicing across his eye. I stole one of his burner phones and left. I went straight to Wren. But I never told him. I couldn’t.

I was so fucking scared he’d make it worse not on purpose but to protect me and we were teenagers.

.. and Wren thought i was with my mother, safe…

that she wanted me for once after dad died ”

Her voice breaks again. “He’s the one who started the rumors. He’s the one texting me. And Wren. Threatening us. Making it sound like I’m this whore who fucked her way into the industry.”

She picks up her phone with trembling fingers and hands it to me.

The screen shows a photo.

All of us. Laughing. Wren. Bash. Me. Kaiser. Alix. Jack is sleeping at her feet inside the RV. It’s taken from outside the window.

“They’ll all be next.”

That’s what the text says underneath it.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.

“He knows,” she gasps. “He’s watching. If anything changes—if you cancel tonight, or leave early, or disappear—he’ll know I told you. And he’ll come for you. Or Wren.”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

“I think Bradley is in on it,” she adds, voice nearly gone. “And maybe Vivian. The timing. The stories. The threats. They line up. He’s not alone in this.”

She finally looks up at me.

“I tried to pretend I could handle it. I thought if I ignored him, he’d go away. But he won’t. I see him sometimes. In crowds. I wake up thinking he’s standing at the foot of my bed. I hear his voice in my fucking head.”

Her hands fist into her thighs.

“I can’t breathe most nights.”

The room is shaking with a fury I’ve never felt. And it's not mine alone.

Kaiser stands, eyes wet and wild. Alix is whispering something to himself I can’t make out. Bash is on the floor, head in his hands.

We’re all falling apart.

She’s held this alone for so long. And she still thinks she has to protect us.

“No more silence,” I say, rising to my feet. “We’re not letting him touch you again. Or Wren. Or anyone.”

“I mean it, Koa. If you cancel tonight, he’ll know. You can’t. You can’t make it obvious.”

She’s pleading now. Broken and begging. But still protecting us, even now.

“I’ll sing through blood if I have to,” I tell her. “But we will take care of this. You’re not alone anymore.”

Alix walks back to her and drops to his knees in front of her. His voice cracks. “Darlin’… I’ll kill him.”

“No,” she whispers. “I need you to live. I need you all to live.”

She leans her head into my chest, and I wrap my arms around her small, shaking body.

We’re going to perform tonight.

But after that?

David, Bradley and Vivian are done breathing. If I have to wrap my hands around their throats and watch life bleed from their soulless eyes myself… I will fucking end this... for her.

The lights overhead hum like a warning.

We’re backstage, five minutes from curtain, but the room is silent. Dead. No warmups, no shots, no joking from Bash. Just Dreya—curled into herself on the couch with swollen eyes and a blanket of silence wrapped around her like armor.

Wren sits beside her, holding her hand like it’s the last goddamn thing anchoring either of them to earth.

And I can’t stop replaying it. The way her voice cracked. How her body shook. How it wasn’t just pain that came out of her when she spoke—it was years of rot buried so deep it didn’t even have a name until tonight.

David.

Her doctor. Her foster father.

The man who hurt her. Touched her. Used her.

The man who made her run to Wren. Who started the rumors. Who’s been sending her those texts.

The man who sent one more message tonight—only this time, it wasn’t about her.

It was about us.

A still photo of me, Bash, Alix, and Kai. Laughing. Relaxed. Exposed. Unprotected. She was asleep inside the bus when he sent it. Just a moment. Just one tiny, perfect moment he somehow made monstrous.

I felt the shift in her the second she saw it.

And then she broke.

Sobbing. Stammering. Telling us everything—like the words themselves might kill her to say.

And she said she was sorry.

So many fucking times.

Sorry for hiding. Sorry for ruining tonight. Sorry for not telling us earlier. Sorry for being her.

And now? She’s saying we can’t cancel the show.

That if we do, David will know.

“He’s watching,” she whispers. “If anything changes… he’ll know I told you.”

We’re five shows deep into this tour.

Five away from Europe.

Almost a year since she and Wren joined us.

Almost a year since we fell for her—each of us like we were drowning and she was the only breath left.

And now she’s begging us to keep breathing like nothing's wrong.

“I can’t lose any of you,” she says softly, looking at each of us through tear-streaked lashes. “Not over him. Not because of what he did. Don’t give him that power.”

Her hands shake, but her voice doesn’t.

She’s choosing us, even when she’s falling apart.

Kai kneels beside her, resting his forehead against her knee. “We won’t let him touch you again,” he murmurs. “Not in any way. We swear it.”

Bash wraps her in his arms, cradling her like glass. “We’ll go out there. But this time? You’re coming with us.”

She blinks up at him, startled. “What—?”

Alix’s voice is quiet but sure. “We’re not hiding you anymore, Darlin. You’re ours. You always have been. The world’s gonna know it.”

My chest aches. Not from fear. Not anymore.

From the weight of what she’s carried.

And the sacred fury burning in my blood for her.

I look to the others.

They nod.

Then I reach down, offer her my hand, and say the words we’ve all been aching to sing.

“Come on, Muse. Let’s burn the stage down.”

The crowd is thunder.

I can feel the noise in my ribs. Taste it on my tongue. But it’s nothing—nothing—compared to the storm behind me.

Dreya stands just off to the side, a hood pulled up over her curls, eyes fixed on the floor. Jack sits beside her like a shadow, protective. Still.

Alix hits the first beat. Bash comes in with a low rhythm. Kai stalks forward, bass heavy, brooding.

I step up to the mic.

And for the first time in our lives, we tell the truth.

“We weren’t gonna play this song tonight,” I say, voice rough. “It’s new. It's called ‘To bleed for her’. Unreleased. But it belongs to someone. And if you’ve been following us, you’ve seen her. Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you guessed. But tonight? There’s no more pretending.”

My eyes find her in the shadows.

“My muse. Our girl. The reason we’re still standing and breathing —Dreya Lorena.”

The spotlight hits her.

The crowd gasps.

And she looks up—wrecked, but shining.

Not a secret anymore.

The lights fall low.

There’s a hush crawling through the crowd—like they already know this isn’t going to be just another song. Not tonight. Not after what she told us backstage.

I glance at the others.

Kaiser’s hand tightens on the neck of his bass, jaw flexed like he’s holding back a scream.

Bash doesn’t look up from the fretboard, fingers twitching like he’s bracing to break.

Alix spins a drumstick once, twice, then sets it down and just breathes.

Me?

The mic is heavy in my hand. I don’t wait for permission. I don’t need it.

I start to sing.

The first notes fall like blood on concrete—my voice breaking open in the dark, trembling, raw. Alix ghosts his sticks across the snare behind me, heartbeat-soft, faltering. The guitars hum low, strings bending like ribs ready to crack.

And I bleed out on this stage, with my band bleeding beside me—for the woman who is the reason we’re still standing at all.

My throat strains, but I let it.

"I’ve burned in silence just to keep you warm, Carved my ribs open—built you shelter from the storm. You never had to ask me to stay, I was already drowning in your name."

The words scrape their way out like confession meant for the dead.

My eyes find her through the lights—front of the crowd, hood up, eyes wide. But she isn’t hiding anymore.

Kaiser steps in, voice fragile, sharp as glass. His fingers tremble across the strings, harmony rising to meet mine.

"You said love was poisonous, and I drank it anyway. Told me you were broken—I knelt and kissed each blade. Every scar you buried, I kept like prayer, Every lie you believed, I breathed like air."

The spotlight flares across his face, catching the tears glinting in his eyes. He grips the mic stand like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the stage.

The crowd doesn’t cheer. They don’t even breathe.

And then Bash’s voice cuts in—rough, aching, carved out of his chest. His bass growls beneath him, vibrating the floor, carrying the weight of his vow.

"I laughed with you through all your nightmares, Kissed your ghosts while they slept beside you. If the world turns on you—I won’t, If it kills me—I won’t."

The words land like a promise sealed in blood. The silence from the audience swells heavier than their screams ever could.

Alix shifts then—sticks tapping steady, like a faltering pulse trying to hold on. His voice slips through the smoke, low, hollow, like something already dead.

"I would’ve taken your place, if I’d known. Tied myself to the bed, let him think I was the one. Tell me where it hurts the most— And I’ll go there. I’ll bleed there. I’ll stay there."

The drums echo his vow, each beat another nail hammered into the dark. His words drag across me like chains, and I feel them settle in my chest where they’ll never leave.

The guitars climb again, trembling, strained, and I let it break me wide open. My voice rips through the silence, walls of paper tearing around me.

"If I could steal back time, I’d gut it open just for you. Rewrite the story where you’re untouched and new. Where you never had to survive just to be loved. Where you never had to run just to be enough."

My throat burns. My chest cracks. I don’t stop it. Not tonight.

Kaiser screams into the final chorus, dragging the words from the bottom of his lungs, shredding himself bare.

"So let the world call us fools or monsters or mad, I’ll still stand in the fire, hands outstretched, for what we had. I’ll still choose you in ruin, in shadow, in fear— Even if you never choose me, I’ll be here."

Then all of us, together. Four voices, one truth.

"We love you like war, Like peace we never earned, Like prayers left unanswered, Like bridges we let burn. We love you like sinners, Like saints who never believed, Like men who finally learned— What it means to kneel and mean it."

Alix crashes the cymbals, the sound like thunder tearing sky apart. The guitars scream and cut off, sharp as a blade. The last note hits and lingers, echoing through every hollow in me until it dies away.

Then silence.

The crowd doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

But she does.

Dreya shoves her way forward, through hands and bodies, straight to the stage. Her hood falls back, and her face—God, her face—is cracked wide open, wet with tears.

And then she’s in my arms. In our arms.

We hold her like she’s the only thing keeping us upright. Maybe she is.

Because under these lights, with the world watching— We stopped pretending.

We didn’t perform tonight. We confessed.

And she heard us.

Even if it kills us—we’d do it all again. For her.