Page 111 of Once A Villain

“I don’t have anything of hers,” she whispers, her gaze drifting. “I was just so upset. I drove and ended up at my townhouse.”

There’s more to this story. I can feel it.

“So, you broke the rules because you were upset.”

She nods, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Rory, look at me.”

Her eyes reluctantly meet mine.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake.”

“It was,” I say, wiping away her tears. “You could have been killed. There are dangerous people after me. You can’t just ignore my calls.”

She pushes my hand away and sits up. “Not that you care.”

“I don’t,” I respond. She glares at me, her jaw clenched. “But you’re my possession, Rory. My toy. And I don’t want you getting killed before I’m finished playing with you.” She flinches at my words, turning her gaze away. “Now tell me, did anyone approach you? Did anyone find you?”

“No. But I hope they find you. And when they do, they rip you apart.”

“Rory—”

“Just leave me alone,” she pleads, her voice strained and broken. She buries her face in her knees, breaking down again.

I’m not supposed to feel anything. But seeing her like this, it stirs something inside me, something I can’t fucking explain. It’s a feeling I haven’t let surface since—Lucas. The pain, the sorrow, that fucking emptiness—it’s all there, in her eyes, in the way she looks at me. And it’s pissing me off.

“Go to your room.”

“What?” She looks up, confused.

“Your room. Now,” I bark.

She hesitates but then moves toward the door like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her steps are slow, hesitant, but she obeys. I watch her walk away, feeling something twist inside me—something I don’t fucking like.

I’m a void, an empty shell. My father made sure of that. And now, this girl is forcing me to confront emotions I buried a long time ago.

She means nothing.

Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

“Fuck,” I snarl, raking my hands through my hair. “What the hell is happening to me?”

I storm upstairs, finding Griffen sprawled on the couch, a whiskey bottle dangling from his fingers. He takes a long gulp, eyes tracking me with amusement.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Axe,” he says with a chuckle.

“Like what?”

“You know…caring.”

“Fuck off.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, admit it. You were concerned. Maybe even worried,” he laughs, pouring another drink.

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