Page 112 of Once A Villain

“No, I wasn’t. I just don’t want the Dolore thinking they can fuck with my wife.” My jaw immediately clenches, the word burning as it slips out. Fuck, that shouldn’t have come out.

“Your wife, huh?” He grins like he’s caught me in a lie.

“Griffen, you better shut your fucking mouth. I meant she’s mine. If someone’s going to kill her, it’ll be me.”

“Hey, it’s okay to have feelings. I know it’s hard to remember, but you are human.” His smirk makes me want to break his jaw. “Even the big bad Reaper’s allowed to feel something.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I snarl.

“Fine.” He shrugs. “Don’t admit it. But it’s obvious you’ve got some attachment to yourwife. You wouldn’t have reacted like that if you didn’t.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. I grab the whiskey bottle and stalk off to my room, slamming the door behind me. His words echo in my head, taunting me.

I open my laptop, pulling up the video feed from her room. There she is, curled up on the bed, face buried in a pillow. Her muffled cries bleed through the speakers, each one slicing through me like a blade.

What the hell happened to her? Is it just about that villa her father kept from her, or is there more she’s not saying?

She wouldn’t risk disobeying me just because she was upset. There’s something else. I can feel it.

As her sobs die down and her breathing steadies, my mind drifts to the masked man. She confides in him—trusts him in a way she doesn’t trust me.

There’s nothing to be jealous of. He’s me. I can’t be jealous of myself. That should calm me down, but it doesn’t. It pisses me off. She has something withhim—something that doesn’t exist between us. I want her hatred, her anger, her rage. But if she’s going to feel anything, let it be for me.

I’m losing my fucking mind.

The masked man is me, but he’s notme.

I should just walk into her room and rip the mask off. Let her see the truth—that the man who hurts her, threatens her, and terrifies her is the same man who holds her, comforts her, listens to her, and knows her darkest secrets.

I’m not those things.

I can’t have feelings for her. But as I watch her sleep on the screen, curled up and vulnerable, the unfamiliar ache in my chest tells me otherwise. I slam the laptop shut and reach for the whiskey, letting the burn chase away the unwelcome pain.

As I drift into a restless sleep, the past claws at me—one regret, the only thing I’ll never be able to fix. The one failure I’ll carry to the grave.

The wind howls, gnawing at my skin as I haul myself up the jagged cliffside. My fingers, raw and bleeding, cling to the cold rock. Below, the waves crash violently against the shore, sending icy mist up to my face.

Each surge of adrenaline keeps me moving, keeps me from feeling anything but the burn in my muscles and the sting in my hands.

Pain I can control. Pain I choose.

“You got this, Axe!” Lucas shouts from somewhere below, his voice barely cutting through the roar of the ocean.

“Faster than you, loser!” I yell back.

This is our thing—our spot—the only place where the weight lifts, where fists and rage can’t touch us. Out here, we’re not worthless sons. We’re not failures. We’re just free.

“In your dreams!” he laughs.

I grin, heart pounding, as I reach the top and collapse on the ledge, breathless in the biting cold. The ache in my ribs is sharp—a reminder of the lesson I failed to learn yesterday.

Lucas clambers up beside me, wheezing with laughter. His black shepherd mix, Zeus, rushes over and licks his face. Lucas chuckles and throws the stupid mutt a stick.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing at the bruise darkening my side.

“Yeah,” I lie, staring at the darkening horizon. The sky bleeds orange and purple, but I don’t give a fuck about the view.

I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to go back to him.

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