Chapter 27 Melody
Melody
In the shining afternoon light, Elliott stops by our room. He looks somewhat chipper, which is weird to see. He doesn't strike me as a person who's chipper very often.
"I have good news for you," he announces. "Your guard is ready for visitors. He would like to see you both."
"Really?" I pop up from the bed. "And Helena?"
"She is ready, as well. She hasn't left his side—she even scrubbed in and observed his surgery."
"Where are they now?" Dante asks. Elliott doesn't respond but turns on his heel, and we scurry to follow.
The entirety of the safehouse is vast, and my original assumption that it was two stories was very wrong.
There are tunnels and air bridges, and—actually, calling it a safe "house" is a bit reductive.
This thing is a complex. We're staying in the main building, which includes many of the sleeping arrangements, but from what we're seeing now?
I don't know how many buildings there are.
We've gone past a kitchen—again, that sounds reductive—that would put a Michelin-star restaurant to shame.
Which makes sense, because after Dante and I thoroughly broke in our bed, the most delicious waffles of my life were delivered to our room.
Beyond that, we walk through a little tunnel connecting us to an armory.
The weapons (more guns than a gun store in the South) are kept locked behind a steel-and-glass door, and a bored-looking woman sits behind a counter near the back wall.
I assume she checks out guns to whoever needs them.
On the third building, I smell the unmistakable scent of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.
This must be the medical area. Elliott punches some numbers into a keypad—I appreciate the extra layer of security for Melnyk's sake—and the automatic door swings open.
I have no idea how The Eligos keeps this place so heavily staffed, but a gaggle of people in scrubs scurry about.
Honestly, there are more medical staff here than at the rural hospital.
They barely give us a second glance as we pass.
Elliott leads us to a drawn blue curtain hanging from a metal track in the ceiling. Hushed voices murmur, but I recognize Melnyk's wheezing laugh. Elliott gently pulls back the curtain and ushers us through.
My breath catches in my throat. I knew Melnyk's situation was bad, but I don't think I truly understood the extent.
The purple bruising around his eyes has a yellow-green tinge around the edges, and he still looks sickly and pale.
Bandages wrap his exposed chest. Dark red blood oozes through the white bandage, and I imagine there are stitches and scars underneath, but I can't see them. I don't want to see them.
Helena sits at his side, and her smile freezes in place when we enter. She shifts her position, removing her hand from his arm. Her back straightens. Involuntarily, my eyebrow raises, and I try to force that bitch back down where she belongs.
"Holy shit." The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. "God, Melnyk, what did they do to you?"
"I did promise I'd tell you." He winces, pushing himself up. Helena scrambles to help him adjust and shoves a pillow behind his back. He exhales a long, slow breath as he leans back. "Thank you, koshenya."
Koshenya? I have no idea what that means, but it sounds… romantic. God, I need to unpack all of this with Helena—assuming she doesn't hate me forever.
Elliott scoots over some chairs for Dante and me, and we settle in. Elliott nods to Melnyk, then takes his leave. I imagine he either already knows or can sense that we'd like some privacy with our friend. The Eligos's people really are top-notch.
"After we were ambushed—and betrayed by Roman.
" He practically spits the man's name, fury flashing across his face.
"We were abducted, as you know. Separated.
Held captive. Helena, the poor dear, had already been at the mercy of Ella and Hannah for months.
She was no longer fun, you see. She was never meant to be Hannah's plaything.
Hannah did not care for women. But men? Particularly, a man who cursed her brother's name? I became her target."
"Hannah did all of this to you?" I gasp. He nods grimly.
"Yes. She did not like me defending myself—she kept syringes in her pockets.
I don't know what was in them. She would inject me, and I could not move.
A paralytic, obviously, but I stayed conscious.
Every second of it, I was conscious. I felt everything.
I heard everything. I felt her fists, her boots, everything she could get her hands on.
" He swallows thickly, averting his eyes.
"She wanted me to praise her brother. She wanted me to forsake you, your husband, Helena—she talked to him, you know?
He's dead—we all saw it happen—but she talked to him as if he were there. "
"I think I heard that, too," Dante mumbles. "I'm so sorry, Melnyk."
"She would stare into empty corners of the room, listening, laughing at whatever she hallucinated.
But it was not always so light. She would scream at me, blaming me, telling me I was the reason her brother died.
That was when it got… worse." He takes a shuddering breath, and Helena loses all semblance of professionalism.
She jumps from her chair and wraps her hands around his.
"You don't have to tell us. If it's too much, we won't think less of you." She gently cups his cheek and guides his gaze to her face. "You don't have to say a word."
"She's right." My voice is scratchy and thick with emotion. A lump is firmly lodged in my throat, and guilt coils around in my chest. "She's right. Please. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Don't—don't push yourself, okay?"
"Please. You coddle me." He waves his hand. "The important thing is, I am alive."
"Helena, can I talk to you?" I blurt. My cheeks flush a fiery red, and I feel the heat of mortification crawl up my neck.
"Um." She peeks at Melnyk, who nods with a pained smile. "Uh, sure."
Dante automatically offers his arm to help me up. I shake my head and clamber to my feet. Guilt and embarrassment war in my chest. My heart pounds in my ears. But I have to do this. I can't hold this in any longer.
Helena follows me from the little curtained bay to the front—it doesn't really resemble a lobby. None of this does. It's more like an emergency room, and there's no privacy.
One of The Eligos's nurses scampers over with concerned professionalism. "May I help you ladies?"
"Um. I was just hoping for somewhere we could talk…." I trail off, looking down at my feet.
"I can let you into the hallway, but you'll have to knock loudly to reenter."
"That works." My ears burn, and I'm sure I'm redder than a tomato.
As the door clunks shut, the ground vibrates beneath us. It's as if a freight train is passing by, or a particularly large truck revving its engine. Helena looks down at her feet, then back up at me. A crease forms between her brows.
"Did you feel that?" I ask, shifting my stance.
"Yeah—"
The loudest noise I've ever heard in my life rings out—I can feel it reverberate in my chest, and I drop to my knees.
I think Helena is screaming something, but I can't hear her over the roar.
I feel her fling her arm over my back, and we huddle together in the tiny hallway.
Metal shrapnel flies—I think—something sharp and cold slices over my exposed skin.
The vibrations feel closer to a violent earthquake.
I try to push myself up, but Helena holds me down.
I can't get my footing. The trembling of the earth below knocks me off-balance.
"What is that?" I screech to Helena, but I can't even hear myself. She shakes her head, pushing me down. She shields my head and neck with her arms. My ears ring, and I swallow hard, trying to clear them. I need to try something. Anything.
Helena slides her arm back as the noise fades.
The earth stops shaking. Red and white lights flash from the ceiling while an alarm siren blares.
I watch as Helena shakily gets to her feet, head on a swivel.
She cups her hands around her eyes and peeks through the minuscule window on the steel door to the medical bay.
"What do you see? What's going on? Are they okay?" I babble, hoisting myself up.
"I can't—I can't see anything. Fuck!" She slams her fist on the door. "Open the fuck up! Let us in!"
"We can't get in?" Fuck! My hands shake and sweat—I can't see Dante.
I press my face to the tiny window as well and kick the door when I see metal slats blocking our way.
They look like the security things stores use after closing, but I don't give a fuck or shit.
I body slam the door, slightly regretting it when pain lances through my shoulder.
"No! Let us in—Dante! Melnyk! Where are you? "
The only thing that answers us is silence.
Helena shakes with fury. Bone-chilling fear permeates every cell in my body.
Dante is on the other side. Dante can't hear me.
I can't get to him. I can't fucking get to him.
I don't know if he's alive—and I swear to god, I'll tear everyone here to fucking shreds if he's dead.
Dante's name pours from my lungs with desperation as I pound against the door. I punch it; I kick it; I slam my shoulder against it—anything. I need to get to my husband. But I fucking can't.
Another earsplitting roar breaks through the air—Helena forces me down again, huddling together.
I don't know how, but it's even louder than the first one.
The concrete walls of this godforsaken hallway tremble and crack.
The steel joists groan and bend. Helena tries to force my head back down, but I can't stop looking.
If we're about to die, I need to know what happens. I can't just blink out of existence.
"What is that?!" I shriek over the din.
"I think we're being bombed!" Helena bellows.
Oh, fuck. Ella. She's here. Steeling myself, I force my way out of Helena's grasp and sprint to the other end of the hallway.
Away from Dante. Away from Melnyk. I don't know if she's tracking me.
Does she know where I am? Is she just raining fire down on us indiscriminately?
I wouldn't put it past her. She's long forsaken the Seraph guidelines Dante told me about.
The same bloodthirsty rivalry over centuries, but the Seraph preferred to stay on the right side of the law.
I guess she got sick of that.
As I reach the other end of the hall, I yank on the doorknob, twisting and turning, screaming for help. There's no one on the other side. There's only the blaring siren and flashing lights. Shit—lockdown. And I'm trapped in a hallway that looks like it could collapse at any moment.
Hairline fractures creep up the concrete, disappearing behind the steel joists.
The ground below revolts again, and I drop to my knees.
The fractures grow. That horrific sound of steel groaning as it bends reverberates in my mind.
And something—someone?—is pounding on the other side of the wall.
Not the door. The wall. The wall that traps us, but keeps us safe from the elements… I hope.
"Melody," Helena gasps. "Please. Come back here. I don't… I don't know what's on the other side. Let me protect you."
"No!" I squawk, yanking on the door again. "That's the whole reason you're in this fucking mess—because of me!"
"What?" Helena's voice sounds so hurt, so broken. "Honey, what?"
"Don't coddle me, Helena! If I never—if I had stayed totally professional, if we had never—if…
if—Ella kidnapped us. Roman sent you to his fucked-up sister.
If you had never met me? None of this would have ever happened!
" Tears flow down my cheeks as I fight the unyielding door. "Hate me if you want to. I would."
"Jesus, Melody," Helena scoffs. "I don't hate you—you didn't do this to me. You didn't kidnap me. You didn't force Roman into a years-long con."
"But I saw you!" I scream. "I saw the way you looked at me! I killed Forge, Helena. I did that. Hannah barely had to egg me on. She just… gave me the tools. I saw the way you looked at me."
She heaves a sigh, averting her eyes. Her nervous energy is evident in the way she fiddles with the door handle.
"I don't hate you. I know you're… different.
Hell, I'm no angel myself. It just… reminded me that you can be unpredictable.
And honestly, Mel? I miss him. I know you didn't know him like I did.
But I miss him. I miss all of the guys. I miss before this shit with the Seraph.
I miss taking you to the range, and I miss sketching random bullshit at your house.
I don't hate you. I don't think you're a monster.
I think you're terrifying, and I'm lucky to have you on my side. "
The instant the words leave her mouth, relief floods through me—but another explosion rings out. Louder than the last, closer—the concrete crumbles, and my world goes dark.