Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

DANTE
I stood frozen in the silence, the heavy emptiness of the room pressing in around me.
Then a faint glimmer caught my eye, a flash of light bouncing off something small on the piano. My heart stilled, dread and hope twisting together in my chest.
I took a shaky step forward, eyes locked on the glint until the shape sharpened into something unmistakable.
There, resting on the polished surface, was her wedding ring.
I closed my eyes for a moment, and she filled my mind, Marisol walking down the aisle on our wedding day, sunlight catching in her hair, her face lit with joy. She’d been breathtaking. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I had promised to protect her.
And now, we were divorced.
My hand hovered over the ring before I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers. Cold metal pressed into my palm. It wasn’t a promise anymore. Just a reminder of what I broke. I’d told myself it was necessary, that pushing her away had been my only choice.
I felt I had to do it. Believed I had to let her go.
But here, surrounded by silence, the excuse dissolved. There was nothing left except the wreckage of what I’d done.
My chest tightened, the weight of finality settling like stone. I had driven her to this. My gaze drifted to the credit card she’d left behind. She didn’t want anything from me. Not my money, not my protection. Nothing.
The message couldn’t have been clearer.
The finality of it swept through me like a wave, relentless and cold.
My jaw clenched. I fought for composure, but the sting of her rejection sliced deep. The ring slipped from my hand, landing soft against the stack of papers, as if it belonged there.
This wasn’t a fracture. It was the end.
My eyes landed on a small black phone resting on the piano. My breath snagged. A post-it clung to the screen in Marisol’s handwriting: Play this.
My fingers trembled as I tapped the screen.
The display lit up, revealing Marisol seated at the piano. Her hands shook as they hovered over the keys, her face streaked with tears.
She began to play. Her voice wavered, the melody soft and full of pain. Each note hit me hard, raw and exposed, as if her grief had taken form and climbed into the room with me.
You were my home, my safest place, she sang, her voice cracking under the weight of sorrow. I gave you my soul without defense.
Her voice wasn’t just music, it was bone-deep sorrow wrapped in melody. The kind that surrounded my heart and didn’t let go.
I wrapped your pain in words I bled, she sang, but you just turned your eyes away.
I closed my eyes. The lyrics carved through me, soft and merciless.
You cared for me, just not enough to stay.
I did this. I wrecked us.
Her voice fractured on the final note, and something in me broke with it. The damage, the depth of it, all the pain she hadn’t said out loud crashed into me at once.
A part of me had wanted her to yell, to scream, to fight. But even when I destroyed her, she walked away with her head high. Graceful. Dignified. Broken.
And somehow, that made the guilt sharper.
I’d pushed her away, told myself it was right. But now, more than anything, I wished she’d fought for us.
Her silence left no room for justification, only the cold, unflinching truth of what I’d done.
MARISOL
The street lights flickered as I walked through the low-lit alley, grocery bags heavy in my hands.
The detour wasn’t ideal, but construction blocked my usual route home. The alley stretched long, narrow, and eerily quiet. Too quiet. The stench of dampness filled my nose, mingling with a sharp, foul smell that clung to the shadows.
My instincts prickled, that familiar unease creeping up my spine. I quickened my pace, eyes scanning the darkness pressing in from all sides. The chill of the alley seeped into my skin, a reminder of all the times fear had dictated my life.
But I kept moving, the thought of home pulling me forward even as the silence gnawed at me.
I wasn’t alone. I could feel it.
Suddenly, a strong hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me back with brutal force. The bags slipped from my hands, groceries thudding to the ground, scattering across the pavement.
The reek of stale cigarettes slammed into me, choking me.
My body hit the rough brick wall, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. The cold, jagged surface scraped my cheek as my face was pressed hard against it. I gasped, struggling against the vice grip that pinned me.
A voice hissed in my ear, low and familiar. Marcos.
“Marisol,” he said, voice thick with malice. He leaned in close, his breath hot and rancid against my skin. “You didn’t think you could hide forever, did you?”
The memory of his whippings surged forward, but instead of breaking me, it sparked something buried deep.
Never again.
My heart pounded as his hand tightened over my mouth, smothering my panicked breaths. I clawed at his arm, but it was like fighting steel. His hand pressed harder, my cheek grinding against the brick until my skin burned.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he sneered, twisting my head so I had to look at him from the corner of my eye. His dark gaze gleamed with satisfaction, lips curled in a wicked smile. “Now, you’re finally mine.”
His grip tightened, voice dropping to a whisper that crawled over my skin.
“I knew that bastard Kincade would tire of you quickly,” he mocked. “And now, you’re right back where you belong.”
My chest tightened with fury and fear, but before I could react, Marcos leaned in again, close enough that I felt every word as he whispered.
“I have fun plans for you, Marisol. I hope you like pain… because that’s all you’re going to get from now on.”
The words chilled me to the bone, his sadism sinking in like poison. He yanked my hair, jerking my head back so hard I winced.
A flash of my father’s twisted grin slammed into my memory, the night he promised me to Montoya like a gift to a monster.
Not anymore. That girl is gone.
“I’ll never be yours, you sick prick,” I spat, defiance crackling in my voice, even as my heart slammed against my ribs.
He froze. His eyes widened, shocked. I wasn’t the meek girl he remembered. His expression darkened, lips peeling back in a snarl as he tugged harder on my hair.
“What did you say?” he growled.
I didn’t flinch. I’ve lived in fear long enough.
“You heard me, you pathetic coward. You think you scare me? You’re nothing.”
A laugh escaped him, low and menacing, but his eyes blazed.
“You’re going to regret that,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll make you scream—”
“You and your threats,” I snapped, cutting him off, my voice mocking.
His grip faltered, confusion flickering across his face. I watched him unravel, rage twisting tighter as my words drove in deep.
“Dante knew how to satisfy a woman,” I said, venom lacing my words. “He didn’t need violence to keep me coming back. But you? You’ve always had to make up for your... shortcomings.”
Color flooded his face, his jaw locking.
“You slut,” he spat.
I leaned closer, eyes fierce.
“Big words from a man with such a little dick. I guess violence is all you’ve got.”
That did it. With a roar, he swung me around, his hand crashing across my face. The blow rang through the alley, sharp and brutal. I hit the ground hard, pain radiating from my cheek, but inside, something fierce flared to life.
I will never be his victim again.
I rolled with the momentum, adrenaline flooding my limbs as I scrambled to my feet. Marcos loomed above me, fists clenched.
“Get up,” he growled. “You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
I stood, legs shaking but firm, and wiped the blood from my lips with the back of my hand. Fire burned hotter in my chest than the sting on my face.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” I said, voice even, spine straight. “Come on, Marcos. Let’s see how tough you really are.”
He lunged. But I was ready.
I twisted, slamming my elbow into his ribs, using his size against him. Each move was sharp, deliberate. Every hit meant to hurt, not just survive.
The memory of every lash, every cruel insult, surged inside me, but they didn’t weaken me. They fueled me.
I didn’t stop. My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head sideways. Shock flickered in his eyes.
For the first time, I saw fear there. He wasn’t in control anymore.
“You think you own me?” I spat. “You’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.”
I hit him again. He stumbled back, confidence cracking.
“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed, but his voice had lost its edge.
He swung. I dodged, then drove my knee into his gut. He doubled over, gasping, hands flailing. I didn’t let up. I wouldn’t.
This wasn’t just survival. I was taking my life back.
With a roar, Marcos barreled into me, knocking me off my feet. The ground slammed into my back, jarring every bone. His hands locked around my throat, squeezing hard, cutting off my air.
Black spots bloomed in my vision. My heart thundered.
No. Not like this.
I clawed at his hands, nails scraping skin, but his grip stayed tight. My strength ebbed, darkness closing in.
My fingers scrambled at my side. Cold metal brushed my palm.
The knife. Please let it be enough.
With a cry, I swung up, the blade slicing across his face.
Marcos screamed, jerking back, blood pouring between his fingers. “You bitch!”
I didn’t wait. I scrambled up, lungs heaving, heart racing. He writhed on the ground, howling.
Now. This was my chance.
I ran.
The gunshot cracked the air. Pain slammed into my skull. White light flared, blinding and hot.
Then the world tilted and collapsed into shadow.
As the darkness closed in, one thought rose above the fear:
I took my power back. I fought.
Then everything faded.