Page 117 of Once A Villain

There’s a clash between the ruthless version of myself I’ve known and this unexpected, unsettling new part of me. I feel something deep for her, something dangerous, something beyond my control.

Griffen’s right; there’s no denying it. I’m falling for her.

I’m not my father, but sometimes I wish I was. His lack of conscience, his cold detachment—he never needed anyone, not even his own sons. We were just tools to him, assets molded for the Sovereign’s agenda. Soldiers, not sons.

But now, as I hold her in my arms, feeling more than I’ve ever allowed myself to feel, I fucking hate it.

“Why didn’t you come last night?”

I pull her tight against my chest, feeling her heart hammering against mine. She’s quiet, her breathing uneven. I keep waiting for her to say more—anything—that explains why she was so upset last night.

Her eyes drift shut, her face burrowed into my shirt.

“Thank you,” she mutters, “for coming back. For being here.”

I don’t answer. I should take off the mask, but I won’t. I need it to keep my distance, to stay in control. Revealing my face means risking everything I’ve built up around myself.

She shifts, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. “Take off the mask,” she whispers, her fingers gripping my shirt. “Please.”

My gut tightens, my breath catching.

“Just once,” she begs, her eyes full of desperation.

The moment this mask is gone...I’ll lose whatever the fuck this is.

I stare at her, feeling the weight of every second stretch between us. She holds my gaze, waiting, pleading.

“Fine,” she snaps. “If you won’t be open with me, I won’t be either. I’m sick of being treated like shit by every man in my life.” She jerks away from me, grabbing a clean pair of clothes from her dresser and pulling them on.

A new emotion claws at me.What the fuck is this feeling?

I can’t let her go.

I need her, and that realization terrifies me.

She mutters something, turning away. I’m on her in an instant, crossing the room with a few long strides. I yank the shirt from her grip and pin her against the wall. In one swift motion, I blindfold her with the shirt, tying it tight.

“What are you doing?”

I press her harder against the wall and then rip off my mask. I don’t waste a second—I crush my lips against hers, silencing any protest. Her startled moan vibrates through me, fueling the fire that’s been raging inside. My tongue forces its way into her mouth, and she meets me with the same wild, desperate need.

The kiss is brutal, a collision of hunger and fury, as our bodies crash together in a storm of raw passion.

When we finally break apart, both of us are gasping for air. I slip the mask on, my breath still ragged, and untie the makeshift blindfold. She clings to me, trembling, her arms wrapped tight around my neck.

This is a fucking mistake.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her cheek pressed against my chest.

I want to tell her it’s not worth thanking me.

I’m not doing it for her.

But I stay silent.

When everything comes crashing down, she’ll see me for what I really am.

The villain.

To be continued…

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