Page 110 of Once A Villain

She flinches, looking away, as if she’s afraid to meet my gaze.

“Look at me.” I drop to my knees, my hands moving to cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me. Are you hurt? Did the Dolore find you?”

“What?” Her voice is so quiet, it’s almost swallowed by the room.

“Did the Dolore find you?”

“No. They didn’t find me.”

“What happened? How did the car get damaged?”

“A truck hit me,” she finally says, her voice cracking. “On my way to rehearsal. He ran a red light.”

An unfamiliar feeling slams into me, imagining the terror she must have felt.

“Were you hurt?” My thumb brushes away a tear from her cheek with a tenderness I didn’t know I was capable of.

“No,” she whispers, but my eyes catch a large bruise on her collarbone that I’d missed in my rage.

“What’s this?” I ask, gently touching the bruise.

She winces, her eyes darting away from mine.

“Rory, look at me.”

She hesitates but finally meets my eyes. “It’s just from the seat belt.”

“Did you go to the hospital? Did the paramedics check you out?”

“No, I was fine,” she says, her gaze dropping.

My anger fades, replaced by an uneasy concern.

“Who was driving the other car?” I keep my tone steady, trying to maintain control.

“Just some man,” she replies.

“Do you know his name? Anything about him?”

She shakes her head. “He gave me his card, but I didn’t read it. I didn’t think about it. I was just scared.”

My mind races, realizing the SUV’s computer system should have alerted me. She could have been seriously hurt or worse…

“Is that why you broke the rules? Because of the accident?” I press.

“No,” she says quietly.

“Then why?” I demand, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm.

“Because,” she hesitates, her voice trembling.

“Because what?”

“My father lied about selling my mom’s villa in Italy. It was a place that meant so much to me. She left it to me in her will, and he kept it from me.”

I pull back, the impact of her words hitting hard.Her mother. She hasn’t shared much about her with me, but she confided in the masked man. And for some fucking reason, it bothers me.

“Rory,” I start, grappling for the right words.

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