Page 1 of Once A Villain

The phone rings, flashing Conrad Valentine’s name, snapping my focus from the bastard whose kneecap I’m nailing to the floor. His screams echo through the room—music to my ears.

I press the phone to my ear, still gripping the hammer. “What do you want?” I ask, raising my voice over the screams.

“Axe, I have a problem.”

Conrad fucking Valentine—Sovereign Commander—rich, ruthless, with more enemies than friends. I’ve had offers to take him out myself, but I haven’t taken the bait—yet.

I slam the hammer into the guy’s other kneecap. The crunch of bone echoes louder this time, his screams ripping through the air. Blood splatters warm and thick, painting the floor in messy streaks. That scent—sharp, metallic, intoxicating—fills my nostrils, and I breathe it in.

Nothing hits quite like the sound of shattering bones or the raw terror in their eyes when they realize no one’s coming to save them.

“Axe…”

Conrad’s voice cuts through, dragging me back. I lean closer to the bastard writhing on the floor, his body still shaking, his wide, panic-stricken eyes glistening with tears.

“What makes you think I give a fuck about your problems?”

Conrad chuckles, a sound that grates on my nerves. “You’re not one to walk away from a Death Bond, are you?”

That gets my attention. A Death Bond is serious business, and I haven’t touched one in a while. But it’s not the Bond that pulls me in—it’s his desperation. Conrad Valentine, crawling tomefor help.

I step back from the man in front of me. His screams have faded into pathetic whimpers—the kind that says he knows the end’s coming.

“I’m expensive.”

“Money’s not an issue, Axel. I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

Arrogant prick. The way he says it makes me want to put a bullet in his skull. It’s time someone humbled him. His reckless Death Bonds have already cost too many Sovereign lives. I’ll be the one to show him how fragile his power really is.

“Send me the details.” I hang up without waiting for a response. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

The phone buzzes again. I swipe the screen, punch in my password, and open the file. I narrow my eyes at the intel as it hits me like a gut punch.

No fucking way.

Target: Marco DeLuca

Organization: Dolore Brotherhood.

Last Known Location: Naples, Italy

The Sovereign is a secret society of assassins—the monsters lurking in the shadows, the architects of bloodshed. We don’t deal in justice; vengeance is a side effect at best. Our loyalty is to power, bloodshed, and expanding the Sovereign’s grip on the world. We destroy lives for one reason?—

Because we can.

Becoming one of us? It’s hell on earth. Some are born into it, bred for the slaughter by bloodline. Others are recruited for their ability to kill without blinking. But no one gets a free ride. The training is a meat grinder, designed to break the weak. Pain, fear, loss—it chews you up until there’s nothing left but instinct. And if you can’t survive that, you’re not a Sovereign. Bloodlines mean shit here.

Only the strongest and most ruthless claw their way to the top. The rest? They vanish, discarded like trash—erased, forgotten. No second chances. This life gives nothing for free, but for those who survive, the rewards are limitless. Money, power, control—whatever you want, it’s yours.

We are the fucking kings of the underworld.

We are the Sovereign.

My eyes flick across the file in front of me—Dolore Brotherhood. Old guard. An Italian syndicate knee-deep in blood for centuries. They’ve perfected the art of organized crime, their reach spreading like a disease. At the top—Marco DeLuca. He built his kingdom on the bones of his enemies, ruling with a violence so brutal it’s legendary.

These bastards control everything worth controlling, and their hands are deep in the pockets of the sex trade.

This mission’s a death sentence, and Conrad knows it. Why the hell does he want DeLuca dead? The Dolore Brotherhood isn’t a small-time operation—they’re a fucking empire. Their influence seeps into places most people wouldn’t dare to go. You don’t just take a shot at them without expecting a war. But the moment I accepted the Bond, there was no turning back.

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