Chapter 21 Melody
Melody
My heart pounds against my ribs, and my blood runs cold.
The floaty feeling from whatever Ella injected me with falls away, and every muscle in my body seizes.
I can feel Dante shivering against me. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head.
Bracing myself for the inevitable, my mind races—what can I say?
She's not lying. I killed Forge. I hate myself for it, but I killed Forge.
Dante will never forgive me.
I wanted to tell him, really—but I wanted to tell him on my terms. On my time. But fucking Hannah did it for me, I guess.
"What do you mean? You're—what? What do you mean? Melody, why is she saying that?" Helena's voice ratchets up a few octaves. I squint my eyes shut, willing the world to fall away. "Melody, answer me—what happened? What did you do?"
"Is it true, love?" Dante whispers in my ear. "You can tell me. I love you. I'll always love you."
Lies. He's lying. He supported me before. Hell, he adored me before. But that's not the same. I killed one of his men. He's turned me on people for less. Much less. There's no way he'll forgive me.
"I can't," I whimper into his chest. "I can't. I can't. I can't."
"She did, though." Hannah snickers. "She was tweaking. It was wild, actually. I tossed him in her room and gave her a… shit, what did I give her? Doesn't matter. She went nuts. Really impressive. And when she pulled the hood off his head? My god, it was pure fuckin' cinema."
Every word that comes out of Hannah's mouth stabs me in the gut. The shocked gasp from Helena pierces my heart, and Dante's grasp tightens around my shoulders.
"She lost her shit. The tears, the puking—it was super dramatic, actually," Hannah continues. "I don't really get that part. I thought she was a sociopath. What's the difference between offing some random dude and that guy in your crew?"
It's all the difference in the world, you insensitive bitch!
It's everything—he helped me, he protected me, he gave everything—and you turned me on him!
That's what I want to say, but I can't move my lips.
I can't speak. I can barely breathe. All I can do is shiver under Dante's hold.
He won't understand. He can't understand.
"Melody, tell me it isn't true!" Helena shrieks. "Tell me she's lying!"
I can't. I fucking can't.
"Watch your tone with my wife, Helena." Dante huddles his body over mine, sheltering me from the world.
I can't hide under him. I can't do it. I can't make him protect me—I killed Forge. I did it. I tried so hard to forget, but it didn't work. It would never work. Kicking my legs out, I launch myself away from Dante's crouching body. Tears stream down my face, leaving burning trails on my cheeks.
"Fuck!" I scream. "I can't fucking do this!"
"Watch yourself, girly," Hannah snaps. She points the pistol directly at my chest. "You might have taken Ella out—for now—but I've got the high ground."
"I don't give a shit what you have," I snarl. "Take me, but leave them alone. Let them go. I'm what you want, right? What Ella wants? To use me as some kind of human weapon for the Seraph? Fine. I give up. I'll do it. Just let them go."
My chest heaves with furious breaths, and I can't stop crying. I don't want Dante to leave—it might kill me. But my skin is itching with the primal need to run. To get away. To run away from my friends. Maybe they'll forget what I did in time.
Lightning flashes overhead. Hannah flinches and looks up at the gathering storm clouds. Dante—god dammit—throws himself at Hannah, grunting and grappling.
"What are you doing?" I yell. "Why? Let me do this!"
"You're mine, Melody!" My sweet husband wrestles the gun from Hannah's grasp. As the words exit his mouth, the sky opens, and sheets of pouring rain drench us.
The ground turns muddy under my feet. Wind whips my hair around my face as I take in the scene—my husband, holding Hannah at gunpoint.
Helena stares at me with horror in her eyes.
Melnyk slumps back, leaning against the tree, breathing heavily.
I've… hurt them. I've hurt my people. I killed Forge.
I got Helena abducted and tortured. Melnyk looks even worse. And Hannah shot Nihil dead.
"You're fucking mine," Dante snarls. "You're mine. Nothing you do—nothing you've done, nothing you will ever do will change that."
Lightning illuminates his panting face. A clap of thunder vibrates the ground beneath my feet. Could he be telling the truth? His intense green eyes, rimmed with gorgeous lashes, stare directly into my soul. And it just fucking breaks me. My heart shatters, raining fragments against my ribs.
"I killed him!" I scream. Tears flood my cheeks, mingling with the rain. "I did it! They didn't make me—they didn't force me—I didn't know it was him. I saw a man. I killed him. I killed Forge. I did it. Hannah's right. I'm a fucking monster."
Dante rushes me—nearly tackling me to the ground—wrapping his strong arms around my shivering frame.
His heart pounds against mine as he kisses me so ferociously.
I love it; I love him, but the pain—the vicious pain radiates from my heart.
I killed Forge. I hurt him; I hurt Helena; I hurt everyone around me. I don't deserve this love.
I don't deserve him.
"You are so perfect, Melody. Please don't ever doubt that. Please. I'll spend the rest of my life making you believe that—please." My husband kisses every tear away from my cheek as they fall.
"I can't," I whimper. "I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"This is all very cute," Hannah interrupts. "I'll take my gun back now, thanks."
Dante rips himself from my arms and aims the gun at her head. "You did this to her?"
"I didn't do shit. I gave her the opportunity. She's the one who took the bait. Do you blame a fish when you catch it?" She rolls her eyes.
"She's lying," Melnyk wheezes. "Not about Melody. She—" He coughs, and a spray of blood erupts from his mouth.
Dante's calm demeanor evaporates. My lungs seize, and my breath catches in my throat.
Quicker than I can process, light flashes from the barrel of her pistol.
I swear, time slows down, and I watch the bullet fly through the air.
Her smug expression freezes as her eyes widen.
The instant the bullet touches her forehead, her mouth drops open a fraction.
Crimson explodes from the impact, and my mouth starts salivating. The sight is absolutely gorgeous. This bitch—this woman who tortured me, who ruined Melnyk, who scared the life out of Helena—drops to the soggy ground. She's dead, but the damage is done. I chance a peek over to Helena.
I didn't think my heart could break any more, but it does.
Tears stream down Helena's cheeks. Her strawberry blonde hair is matted and messy, and her eyes are bloodshot.
I can practically feel the fear emanating from her.
She's scared of me. That fear is because of me.
Guilt slithers around my bones and whispers horrendous things in my ear.
You hurt her. You're not worthy of her friendship. You're not worthy of your husband. You couldn't control yourself for thirty fucking minutes. You're a pig.
My skin burns under the cold waves of rain.
I feel like my bones are trying to crawl out of me.
I feel like I can't get enough air. I watch in a haze as Dante searches through Hannah's pockets.
The edges of my vision turn fuzzy. I can't react when he yanks another key ring out. A black car key dangles from the ring.
Triumph blooms over my husband's face, but I can't celebrate with him.
All I can do is trudge along and numbly help carry Melnyk to a white Jeep.
Hannah's? Must be. Helena settles into the backseat, stabilizing his head in her lap.
Dante jumps into the driver's seat. My feet stay firmly rooted to the ground. All I can do is stare.
"Darling, love, please—let's go!" Dante pleads with me, turning the key in the ignition.
The engine roars to life. I watch the fat raindrops plop and burst on the thick canvas roof of the Jeep.
At first, they bead up and roll off, but soon the fabric darkens and absorbs the water.
Rain trails down the thick plastic windows sewn into the canvas.
I can see Helena's face, her brow knit in concern as she looks down at Melnyk's still form.
"Melody." My husband slides out of the vehicle. "I am not above carrying you."
"What?"
"It's time to go, love. Please. I don't know how much time we have before Ella—"
"I'm coming," I assure him. Ella's name shoves me into motion, and I race around to the passenger's seat.
I've barely slammed the door before the Jeep jolts backwards.
I haven't been in a car for so long. I don't even know how long, but the motion has my stomach rolling.
I clamp my mouth shut and breathe heavily through my nose.
"You're alright, love, I promise," Dante murmurs as he navigates around deep potholes. The road is mostly dirt—now mud—with gravel interspersed. Another flash of lightning illuminates the jungle around us. The rumbling thunder isn't quite as loud now, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
"The storm is moving on," I whisper. "Where are we?"
"I don't know." Dante sets his jaw. His hands clench around the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white.
"We need to get somewhere with a hospital," Helena pipes up. "He's… he's not looking good."
I shift myself around to look at Melnyk's pale, bruised face. The blood he coughed up has dried and crusted around his lips. His eyelids flutter rapidly, and his mouth is moving like he's trying to speak. Fuck.
"The road looks to be in better condition up here," Dante replies. "We might be closer to civilization than we thought. But we also don't know what we're walking into. Who knows how far-reaching the Seraph is here?"
"That's a chance we'll have to take." Helena's tone is far from jovial.
My heart twists in my chest. I need to talk to her alone, somehow.
I need to apologize. I need to assure her I'll never hurt her again.
I'd never physically hurt her—I know that, but she doesn't. Especially considering how she keeps flicking her gaze away from me when I look at her.
Nauseous anxiety grips my stomach. The rain fades to a drizzle, but the old-growth forest around us still looks menacing.
Every rustling branch makes my panic spike—it could be anything.
It could be the wind, but it could be Ella.
She could have followed us. She could be following us right now.
She's the Nephilim now, and I handed the title over to her on a silver platter.
I can't believe she played me like that. I mean, I can, but that doesn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. My head throbs with a stabbing pain. Everything is so much. Everything is too much. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, willing myself to block out the world.
Dante slams on the brakes, and I jolt forward—just barely catching myself before I fall into the dashboard. My pulse roars in my ears as I take in the bright lights of the small hospital we've pulled into.
"Melody, love, can you help Helena and me carry Melnyk to the emergency room?" Dante reaches over and brushes my cheek. I silently nod. I can hold it together. I can do this. I can do this for him; I can do this for Melnyk; I can do this for Helena.
Forcing myself to move, I take shallow breaths as we hoist Melnyk up and carry him to the door. Concerned faces rush to meet us. A woman with severe mom vibes asks me questions in rapid-fire Spanish. All I can tell her is, "Lo siento—no comprende. No hablas Espanol."
"Ingles?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. I nod. She turns and yells something toward the desk before returning her attention to me. She motions towards our group and slowly says, "Tu hablas Ingles? No Espanol?"
"Sí, senora," Dante huffs.
A gaggle of nurses races toward us with a gurney. I watch helplessly as they hoist Melnyk's limp body onto the bed. One of the women turns to me and nods before they push him down a hall.
"Can we go with him?" I ask, pointing in the direction they went. The woman furrows her brow and says something, but the only part I catch is a gentle "no."
She guides me to a rickety chair on the left while Dante and Helena follow.
I heave out a sigh and rub my eyes. I can smell myself—it's not good.
And I imagine I look even worse. Dante settles in next to me and places a protective hand on my thigh.
Helena sits across from us, tucking her feet under herself.
She crosses her arms and seems like she's trying to shrink herself. She taps a frantic rhythm on her knee.
"He'll be alright, love," Dante whispers. "We'll be alright."
The dam breaks. How can anything ever be alright again?
How can he lie to me like this? I can't fix this.
I can't fix Melnyk. I can't bring Forge back.
I can't bring Nihil back—I know I didn't pull the trigger, but he was here because of me.
This is all because of me. Me and my stupid fucking idiot self and my uncontrollable urges.
I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could convince past-Dante that I'm not the one for him.
It would kill me, but it would save everyone else.
Maybe that would be for the best. I've killed people—many people—and I've hurt my family.
Helena might not think of me as family, but she is.
Dante is. The guys are family, too. And now, two of them are dead.
It's only a matter of time before we're caught again.
All of this stress, all of this pain, all of this torture… it could go away.
It could go away if I turn myself over. Ella doesn't even care about GoCon anymore—that much is clear. She's singularly focused on using me to her advantage. Or maybe I'm wrong about that, and she just wants me dead. She wanted me to kill Dante. Maybe it's a two birds, one stone situation?
Fuck, I don't know, and the possibilities have my head throbbing.
That stabbing pain behind my eyes just won't go away.
I can't even cry anymore. I think I'm dehydrated—I don't have any liquid left to cry.
Instead, I just pull my knees up to my chest and softly rock.
Dante's hands slide to my shoulders, gently kneading.
He whispers something to me, but I can't tell what it is.
Whatever he's saying, I don't deserve it.