Page 9 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Nine

Dreya

The soft pattering of rain dances across the tin roof, a slow and steady lullaby as I count the stars on the ceiling, praying for the sleep I desperately need. Morning is creeping closer, dragging with it a future I haven’t fully accepted.

Did I make the right choice?

Agreeing to this—taking the job, moving forward—did I do it because it’s what I wanted… or because I was afraid of being alone when Wren left?

I’ve never really been alone—not since my dad and brother died, leaving me in a world that forgot how to care.

After that, I became a thing passed around, another file in the system.

Homes that smelled like mildew and cheap lies.

Smiles that never reached the eyes. And David… he was the worst of them.

He took more than my trust. Took pieces I still haven’t figured out how to reclaim.

I never told Wren. I couldn’t. How could I explain the things I let happen just to survive?

The bruises I covered. The way I had to hurt him to escape.

Only Bradley ever knew the truth—about what David did. About what I did to get free.

Wren was my salvation without even knowing it.

He crashed into my life like a tornado through a trailer park—tearing through the rot and dragging the light back in with him.

I didn’t knock. I just showed up one night, barefoot and shaking, and he opened the door like he’d been waiting. And never once asked me why."

“Jupey, you gotta get some sleep, babygirl… Come here. Let me hold you,” Wren says softly, his voice startling me.

I’d thought he was asleep. But now that I think about it, the silence—no snoring—should’ve given him away.

“I’m just nervous,” I whisper, my voice shaking slightly. “What if I screw it all up and disappoint you? Or worse, Grey… He’s the one who gave us this opportunity.”

Before I can move, Wren shifts, tugging me into his arms like it’s second nature. My smaller frame fits perfectly against his, our bodies aligning like puzzle pieces. My hair brushes against his face, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Man, if only you were a tall, muscular man with the personality of a grumpy teddy bear,” Wren groans dramatically, draping one arm over my stomach. The oversized shirt he gave me to sleep in rides up slightly, the fabric brushing over bare skin.

I grin. “I can’t say that image doesn’t do something for me too… Maybe that friend of his—Alix? That man is downright sinful. One smile and you just know he’s trouble with a capital T.”

Wren chuckles again, the sound deep and warm against my back. “Jupey… you really don’t recognize Alix from anywhere else?”

His voice dips into something quieter—curious, maybe cautious. His fingers draw slow, lazy circles against my hip as he waits for an answer.

“Wait, am I supposed to know him?” I ask, confusion thick in my voice. “I’ve only met him twice—with Grey.”

I try to roll over to face him, but Wren doesn’t let me. He holds me tighter, not unkindly, just… still.

“Just curious,” he says quietly. “He’s kind of hard to forget, that’s all.”

He presses a soft kiss to the crown of my head and settles in closer behind me, chin tucked into the curve of my shoulder.

“We’ve got a big day tomorrow, babygirl. Let’s get some rest, yeah?”

My brain buzzes with questions, but I swallow them down. Whatever Wren’s hinting at, I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I need to sleep. I can’t show up to a band’s first concert as their new assistant looking like a zombie.

So I close my eyes.

The sound of the train rattling past the small apartment wakes me to an empty bed. The scent of coffee wafts through the cracked door, and a second voice—deep, unfamiliar—joins Wren’s in the kitchen.

Grey.

I shove the blankets off, scrambling for something to cover my panty-clad ass.

Shit. Shit.

Jack lifts his head from the floor, his tongue lolling sideways in that dopey way that makes him look more stuffed animal than dog.

“Not now, Jack,” I mutter.

My eyes scan the room frantically before landing on a pair of Wren’s black gym shorts. I snatch them up, nearly falling as I hop into them one leg at a time. Real graceful.

I shove my fingers into the tangled mess of my black curls, dragging them into a bun at the top of my head. I refuse to let Grey—or worse, his friend—see me looking like a horror movie extra. Nope. Not happening.

I crack the door open. Jack bolts out like he’s been training for a track meet, no doubt chasing the promise of ear scratches from new hands.

A third voice floats down the hall—smooth, British, and far too amused.

Not Alix.

I round the corner and come face to face with Grey, Wren, and… a beautiful stranger.Behind him is someone I don’t recognize.

And holy hell.

The man is tall—broad shoulders in a fitted black tee that clings to lean muscle, distressed jeans hugging his thighs just right, blonde hair tousled like it’s been kissed by chaos and hairspray. There’s a glint in his blue eyes that could charm a nun out of her vows. And that smirk?

Lethal.

“Morning,” he says, voice rich with a British lilt that curls under my skin. “You must be Dreya.”

I blink. Maybe twice. Maybe I stare too long, but whatever—I’m not sorry.

Yep. I’m going to murder Wren .

I blink. Maybe twice. Maybe I stare too long, but whatever—I’m not sorry.

He extends a hand.

I stand, setting my mug down before I drop it, and take it. His palm is warm, fingers rough in a way that says he plays guitar or knows how to ruin someone sweet.

“Uh… yeah. That’s me.”

The blonde stranger grins. “Oh, shit. Where are my manners? I’m Sebastian—Bash, to everyone else.

I’m in the band. I do backup vocals, bass, and look devastatingly good in leather.

The others couldn’t make it, so Grey and I drew the short straws for early morning errands.

” He pauses—eyes skating from my fuzzy socks all the way to my messy bun like he’s committing every detail to memory.

“And I gotta say… if I’d known we’d be walking into this scene, I would’ve at least worn nicer jeans. ”

I blink. “Scene?”

“Coffee. Curls. Dangerously cozy vibes.” His grin widens. “Pretty sure that’s how every love song I’ve ever written starts.”

Grey snorts. “Mostly he flirts and causes problems.”

Bash grins, eyes never leaving mine. “Only the good kind of problems.”

Oh.

I’m not blushing. I’m not.

Okay. I definitely am.

Wren wanders out from behind the counter in joggers and a too-tight shirt with a yawning stretch. He stops mid-step, takes one look at Bash, and deadpans, “Tell me this isn’t the bassist who likes to fucks with security systems for fun.”

“Allegedly,” Bash says, like it’s a badge of honor.

Grey shrugs. “When he was bored. And drunk.”

“Still got in every time,” Bash adds, looking smug as hell.

Wren coughs into his mug, hiding his laughter. My cheeks flame.

“I—uh—sorry you’re seeing me like this.” I take the coffee from Wren just to have something to do with my hands. “Had I known my future boss was stopping by, I might’ve tried not to look like a raccoon emerging from a laundry basket.”

Bash chuckles, low and warm. “Raccoon? Nah. You’ve got more of a... dangerous fairy energy. The kind that lures men to their doom.”

“Sounds dramatic.”

“I’m in a rock band. Dramatic is kind of my thing.”

Despite myself, I smile—and for the first time in days, it doesn’t feel forced.

I slide onto the stool as Bash pulls out a folder with my name printed on the front. A black pen rests neatly on top.

Dozens of papers wait inside, each one a building block to a life I never saw coming. I read slowly, carefully, signing each page before moving on.

The last one makes me pause.

“Would you feel comfortable staying on the main tour bus with the band in a private bedroom?”

My finger traces the line.

Bash’s flirt drops for a moment, replaced with sincerity.

“We’ve got an all-male staff, except for two older women who’ve been with us since the start.

They travel in a separate van. This setup gives you your own space on the main bus—so you’re not stuck in a bunk or sharing tight quarters.

If it helps, Wren can stay with you. Right now, he’s bunking with Grey. ”

I shake my head. “No, I’m good. I appreciate the offer, though. Honestly, it means a lot… makes me feel like maybe I’m not totally insane for saying yes to this job.”

A real smile touches his lips. “We’re glad you did.”

I sign the final page and hand it back.

“Excited for the show tonight?” he asks, slipping the folder into a sleek black briefcase beside Wren’s. “Grey said you won the VIP giveaway? Seems like fate, yeah?”

“Would I ruin everything if I admitted it’s my first time hearing your music?” I wince. “I won the tickets for someone else. But… plans changed.”

Bash lets out a soft laugh. “Then I’m extra glad you’re still coming. You’ll get the full experience—front row, center. No better way to fall in love.”

“With the music,” Grey cuts in, bumping Bash with a smirk.

“Right,” I say, cheeks flushing. “The music.”

“It was great meeting you, Dreya.” Bash gives me a small nod, the heat in his gaze turning serious for just a second. “I’ll see you tonight.”

His blue eyes hold mine for a beat too long, and I forget how to breathe.

“You too. Break a leg.”

Regret. Immediate regret.

But he just grins, and that makes it worse.

“I look forward to introducing you to the others,” he says.

Wren jumps in. “You guys are gonna kill it tonight,” locking eyes with Grey in a way that lingers.

“Happy birthday, Dreya,” Grey says as they leave, quiet and warm.

“Thanks, Grey.”

Jack spins happy circles around them on their way out, earning extra pets and praise like the attention hog he is.

When the door clicks shut, silence settles around us.

I turn toward Wren, who already has his hands raised in surrender.

“Okay. I love you. But when Grey said he needed to drop off paperwork, I didn’t expect him to show up with Sebastian-freaking-rockstar. I panicked.”

“You couldn’t text me?” I groan. “I looked like a hobo in front of a walking sex dream and the man you’re currently trying to flirt into a relationship.”

“To be fair,” he says, dodging a swat to his arm, “you looked adorably like a hobo.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you more, Jupey.” He pokes my nose with a smug little smirk.

“Also,” I say, dropping into a seat, “can we talk about Bash? What the hell? Does Grey collect attractive men like Pokémon or something?”

“I think he might,” Wren snickers. “Did you see the way Bash couldn’t take his eyes off you?”

“He was not,” I lie.

“He was. Also, the bus thing? You sure you’re okay with that?”

“I’ll be fine. They gave me my own room—it’s actually… thoughtful. And if Grey trusts them, I think I can too.”

“You’re really doing it,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades. “We’re taking our lives back.”

I nod, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“I guess so. I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. We are doing this — taking our lives back.” I say it more to myself than to him, the words shaky but determined.

“Atta girl. Now, we don’t have much time to get ready. I kinda let you sleep in late because I knew you’d need it,” Wren admits, his voice soft, almost bashful. I lift my head and give him a grateful nod.

It’s the first time in what feels like forever that I’ve been able to fall asleep and just... be at peace.

“Do you have something to wear? Sebastian brought some band tees for us,” Wren says, nodding toward the two neat piles of shirts on the counter.

“How’d he know my size?” I ask, curiosity pulling me toward the soft black tee on top. The band’s name is printed across the chest in blood-red script, with a man engulfed in flames standing in front of what looks like a broken church — or maybe a burning cross near the building.

“Oh, Grey asked last night. I didn’t know what it was for, though,” Wren shrugs.

I pick up the top shirt, noticing each one underneath is different — same font and color, but unique designs.

“Well, I’m gonna get a shower and start getting ready. The ticket says we should be there by 6:30,” I say, glancing at the clock.

“It’s already 2, and the venue’s thirty-five minutes away,” Wren reminds me.

Shit. No time to drag my feet. I refuse to let the others see me the way Sebastian did — raw, unguarded, exposed.

I rush from the kitchen, almost tripping over Jack, who darts between my legs.

“Fuck,” I hiss, catching myself against the wall before I fall.

“I’m using the spare bathroom, so my room and bath are all yours, baby girl,” Wren says quickly as he heads toward the bathroom by the living room.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” I call, closing the bedroom door behind me and heading to the en-suite, shirt in hand.

I toss it onto the sink, eyeing the reds, oranges, and whites in the flame design. I decide to wear the flame-split skirt Wren got me for my birthday last year.

I dig through the boxes, searching for the matching shoes I bought for a lunch I had to cancel — with Wren — because Bradley said I couldn’t go.

That should have been the first red flag, when he found every chance to go out with Craven and thou who shall not be named, anymore. But I was blinded by the idea I loved him.

After twenty minutes, I find both shoes, snatch up black lace underwear and the matching cross-back bra.

I lay everything on the counter next to my makeup and hairbrush.

I pause to look at myself.

I don’t feel older today. Honestly, I don’t feel much of anything.

I pull my hair free from the messy topknot and start slipping rings from my fingers, then lift the necklace my brother left me.

I place the jewelry in a neat pile on the counter, taking a long, steady breath.

Fuck it. I need a minute. Before my time is no longer mine.

I close my eyes and breathe in slowly, holding it steady before exhaling.

You’ve got this. You have to.

There’s no choice anymore.

The past stays behind once I board that bus — no longer a weight around my ankles.

I remind myself to finish packing everything I’ll need into the four duffel bags Wren bought yesterday. That’s all I can bring. The rest goes to the storage unit he arranged.

Turning the water dial left, I watch steam curl out, fogging the mirror and hiding my reflection.

I step in carefully. The hot water reddens my skin, each drop pounding away the noise around me.

All my worries drain down the grate.

I will make it. I will survive.

This is right. I need this — to take my life back. To escape Bradley