Chapter 29 Melody
Melody
Dante keeps hissing and wincing in pain, blood oozing down his arm.
After convincing him to turn back for just a second—just a literal minute, really—to steal a strip of fabric from the dead soldiers, I fashion a tourniquet and tie it around his arm.
The blood seeps into the sweaty fabric. Hopefully, The Eligos's medical team is still alive.
I shudder. Fuck, I hope that bomb shelter is safe.
Silently, we creep through the jungle and watch for any movement.
It's unsettlingly still. No planes or helicopters overhead, no drones, no radio chatter.
Now that I think about it, the soldiers didn't have radios visible.
It's possible there was something in their helmets, but I didn't care to fully undress the dead men.
Well, not right now.
If we were back in the basement in Philly, all bets would be off. Of course, I wouldn't prefer to just shoot them in the basement. Where's the artistry?
I stop in my tracks. Holy shit, I might be really fucked up.
"You alright, love? Morning sickness? Any aches or pains?" Dante lovingly asks.
"No—I mean, yes, I'm fine. I was just… I don't know. Thinking about how you let me use the basement back home. Remember the first time we killed someone together?"
"When I discovered exactly how ravishing you are in red? Why, yes. I do remember that. Vividly." He arches an eyebrow with a smirk.
A giggle bursts from my lips. "We're so fucked."
"I prefer the term, 'passionate.'" A twig snaps in the distance, and Dante falls silent, scanning the trees around us. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he hisses, "Did you hear that?"
I nod without a word. There's nothing more frustrating than trying to listen intently, but your stupid fucking pulse rushes in your ears like ocean waves.
My lungs constrict, choking the breath from me.
She has to be here. There's no way she sent four men and some bombs.
There's just no way. There has to be more—and with her obsessive hatred of me?
She has to be here. I just hope I can get the drop on her before she gets the drop on me.
My hands break out in panicked sweat, and the rifles slip in my grip.
Two people, three guns. That's at least better odds than two people and no guns.
The enormity of our situation hits me like a freight train.
We really are fucked unless Ella just happens to be gallivanting around the forest completely unarmed. And unaccompanied.
But that would be insane.
Dante sighs and leans against a tree. "Must have just been an animal."
I hum in agreement. The jungle really is beautiful. Lush greenery in every direction—their broad leaves and swaying branches just feel calming.
Bang!
"Fuck—" Dante gasps as he stumbles to the ground.
"No!" The word rips out of my lungs. As Dante falls, so does my world.
My husband. The father of my twins. The man who sees me for who I am—who doesn't run, who doesn't hide, who doesn't want me to make myself smaller—falls to the forest floor.
Blood blooms from his hip. He drops the rifle, and it skitters across the layer of decaying leaves.
My husband looks up at me with tears in his eyes, gasping for breath.
His mouth flops open, but no words come out.
Only a wheezing breath. One after another.
I'm frozen. I'm entirely frozen. I want to cradle him.
I want to kill for him. I want our family to be safe.
But I can't do anything. I'm stuck. I'm fucking stuck.
"Isn't this cute?" Ella sings out, striding toward us. She slings her own rifle across her back, not bothering to point it at us. It's like she doesn't think we're a threat. My husband is bleeding out on the jungle floor, and she thinks I'm not a threat?
My hands shake, and my lips curl back, exposing my teeth.
A haze of red clouds my vision. The familiar gnawing in the back of my skull roars to life, and images of her disemboweled corpse flash through my mind.
I've wanted to know what her intestines look like for a long time.
And she stole that from me—almost. I swore I'd never kill again after Forge, but I guess I lied to myself.
I can't stop this. No one can stop this. She was a fucking idiot for thinking she could control me.
"Look at you two. Hiding out in the woods together. So romantic." She smirks. "Congrats, by the way. Twins? What, are you some kind of overachiever?"
I still can't fucking move, and I hate myself for it. All I can do is watch her casually saunter over. She's got a nasty bruise blackening her eyes and a split lip. My body finally allows me to react, but just a tiny bit: I smile at the memory of beating her stupid skull into concrete.
"Better be careful, Melly-bean. Remember what happened last time?"
"Fuck you," Dante gasps out. "Fuck you, Ella. You're going to die. I'm—" He wheezes in another deep inhale. "—going to watch my wife tear you to shreds."
"You're not in a position to watch anything," Ella sneers. "Except maybe your mouth. Or should I put another bullet in you? Oh, I was looking forward to keeping you alive. Just long enough to give Melly-bean some hope. Just long enough to watch her break."
She already saw me break. She saw me lose control. She watched me tear Forge limb from limb. She watched me panic and heave in hysterics over his death. She stomped out my first baby—just a fetus, just a tiny clump of cells, but it was mine.
She doesn't get to take him from me.
My fists ball up on their own, my nails digging little stinging half-moons in my palms. I wish I still had my acrylics.
I wish I had claws of steel. I wish I had that goddamn machete—my favorite blade—so I could lop her fingers off, one by one.
I need to see what her guts look like, splayed out and decorating the jungle floor.
The monster in the back of my skull screams for her blood, aching for her death.
It's going to be so fucking sweet. She took so much from me. I'm going to take everything from her.
Dante's pained grunts draw me from my violent fantasy. He looks up at me with hope and rage filling his vibrant green eyes. "Get her, love."
His deep, gravelly voice stokes a fire in me. My love. My husband. My obsessive man. The man who stalked me and married me—I know I'd die for him. I know I'd kill for him. Hell, I already have, kind of. But this is different: this isn't just for me or just for him. This is for us.
Slipping my finger around the trigger, I aim for Ella's hands and squeeze. The shot rings out, but it goes wide. Ella cackles with glee.
"You really thought you'd get me that easy? You're weak, Melody. You're weak, and you're pathetic. I can build you up—I can make you strong." She smirks. "Once we get rid of that husband of yours. He's holding you back. He wants to keep you under lock and key."
"Shut the fuck up," I grunt, squeezing the trigger again. The recoil vibrates through my bones, and every cell in me rejoices as Ella shrieks in pain. That fucking gun drops to the earth with a pathetic thunk. "You kept me under lock and key."
Pointing the gun directly at her forehead, I take a step closer. "You made me weak."
Another step. "You tried to break me."
Another step. She's not even a yard away, and she looks at me with unadulterated fear. "This is the monster you wanted, right? This is what you wanted me for? This is what you did all of this for?"
"You could rule the world, Melody," Ella whispers. "You could kill so many people—for me, of course, but you could do it. I'd let you have free rein… within reason."
I snort a laugh. "Girl, do you hear yourself? You promise one thing and take it away immediately after. You shot my husband. You abducted both of us. You nearly killed Melnyk. You orchestrated Roman's betrayal. You called me crazy for so long, but I think it's you."
Her red hair mats against her forehead as she sweats.
A tear leaks from her eye. She stares at me, unblinking.
I think she knows I'm going to kill her.
I think she's trying not to believe it, but deep down, she knows.
And I won't be merciful. I won't make it fast and painless. I won't show her an ounce of kindness.
Not after everything she's done.
In quick succession, I shoot at her shoulders. Blood sprays from the joints, and she drops—screaming, wailing, pleading. Her pleas mean fucking nothing. Bloodshot blue eyes stare into my soul and only find hate. Her face twists in agony as I fire off another round directly into her knee.
"You're a fucking vision, love," Dante grunts. I whip around and gaze at my husband—who looks shockingly pale. Fuck. Fuck! Blood pools underneath his leg, staining every fallen twig and leaf.
"Oh, god—babe, you're gonna be okay, I promise." I return my attention to Ella. "You're not."
Dropping the gun, I reach into my pocket for the scalpel.
Through some stroke of luck, it didn't stab me.
I think. I can't tell whose blood is covering almost every inch of me, and at this point?
I don't care. As my fingers close around the metal handle, I fall to one knee in front of Ella.
She grits her teeth, panting every wheezing breath.
Spittle drips from the corners of her mouth, and sweat pours down her forehead.
She thinks I'm pathetic? She thinks I'm weak? Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.
The familiar ecstasy of the kill floods my veins as I leave a bloody trail down her neck.
The scalpel splits the skin so cleanly. It's like it was never whole.
She flails and screams, trying to get away from me, but her arms don't work anymore.
Her kneecap has to be completely shattered.
There's nowhere to go. She can't hide from me. She can't get away.
The monster in my skull screams with joy as I throw my leg over her chest, sitting squarely on her lungs.
Ella bares her teeth at me, snarling through her panicked sobs.
The pathetic whimpering rises to an ear-splitting scream when I trail the blade down the other side of her neck.
I'm enraptured. Dark crimson beads at the edges of the incision.
The droplets grow with every frantic heartbeat.
As I push aside the layer of muscle, I find the vein.
The jugular, I think it's called. I press down on it with my thumb and watch it spring back into shape when I release it.
Ella's no longer making noises that could be considered human.
No, she's far beyond that. She screams with the pitch of a woman who knows she's going to die soon.
With a shuddering breath, I plunge the scalpel into the vein. Dark blood sprays out, drenching my hand, my arm, my face—everything. It's amazing. It's glorious. It's everything I've wanted and so much more.
The world melts away. Nothing exists in this moment except for me, Ella, and the blade.
My hands tremble as I drag the blade down, opening the vein.
Her panicked screams and sobs melt into a horrific gurgling.
Her breath rattles and catches in her throat.
Blood dribbles from her mouth, and the light leaves her eyes.
I'm safe.
My children are safe.
My husband is safe.
It's over.
Her labored breathing slows, then stops. I tilt her head to the other side, watching for movement, any sign of a pulse. Nothing. There's nothing. She's gone. She's dead. I killed her.
Ella is dead.
"You're exquisite," Dante groans weakly. In a snap, the world returns. The breeze floats through the air, rustling leaves and branches. Birds call in the distance. Frogs sing from their jungle hiding places. Ella doesn't make a sound, but my husband shudders.
He looks so pale. So very, very pale. He's lost a lot of blood. The sight of it doesn't spark any joy in me; it doesn't feed the grinding of bone in the back of my skull. I might be a monster—that much is true, obviously—but never to him.
"You're bleeding," I state dumbly. "Fuck, babe, you're bleeding a lot."
He grins up at me. God, his face. His beautiful face.
Those piercing green eyes stare into my soul.
His angular jawline is hidden underneath the rugged beard, but surprise, the beard suits him, too.
And his inky black hair, normally so polished and sleek, is ruffled and stringy with sweat. Why is he so fucking hot?
"Worth it to see you work your magic, love," he gasps.
"Not if you fucking die—shit!" I help him up and sling his arm over my shoulder. I can only carry one of the rifles with him leaning on me, but that should be enough. We're not too far from the medical bay. The Eligos has doctors—they helped Melnyk; they can help him.
But his wincing and sharp inhale with every step grip my heart with fear. I can't lose him. I can't fucking lose him. Not now—Ella's dead, and we finally have a fucking chance at happiness. At peace. At everything I've always wanted, and everything he's always promised.
"You're going to be okay, babe, I promise. You are. I swear." I curse my arms and lack of upper body strength. Fuck.
"I know, love. I trust you." His head lolls to the side, and my heart skitters against my ribs. Fuck and shit. Goddamn it. I want to bring Ella back just to kill her again. She can't hurt my man. She fucking can't.
But she did. She's dead, but she did.
Dante's feet drag along the ground as I shoulder his weight, stumbling back to the medical facility.
"Someone! Anyone! We need help—it's me; it's Melody! Dante's been shot!" I scream, praying to all the gods I don't believe in that someone on our side is listening. I have no idea how many more Seraph people are here. I don't give a shit, either. I just need Dante to be okay. I promised him.