Page 14 of Once A Villain

I’m not a dog, and I’ll be damned if I wear a fucking collar.

He thinks he can just show up and scare me into submission? He’s got another thing coming. I will not go down without a fight.

He wants a bride? Fine, he’ll fucking get one, but I’ll never be his submissive.

“Dom, we need to talk,” I call out, spotting him mid-conversation with a stagehand. His eyes flick to me, and with a nod, he waves me over. We duck into his small office.

“I want to switch up the finale,” I announce. He arches a brow. “I’m thinking fire...and knives. Lots of knives.”

Dom meets my smile with one of his own. “Let’s make it happen,” he replies, nodding in approval. We hash out the details, and I can already feel the adrenaline, the thrill of turning the tables. This isn’t just a performance—it’s a middle finger in the form of a show.

As we leave the office, Spencer approaches, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. Dom gives me a knowing nod and strides off to oversee the preparations. Spencer follows me into my dressing room, his presence heavy. I sink into the vanity chair, reapplying my makeup in silence until he clears his throat.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Rory.”

“What do you want me to say, Spence?” I snap, tossing my makeup brush down in frustration. “Who is he? I’ve never even heard of him. He just shows up and says we’re getting married. How is this even allowed?!” I explode, facing him. “And why is everyone so scared of him?! He’s just another Sovereign, right?”

“Rory, Axe is not like the others. He’s dangerous. Really fucking dangerous.”

I shoot him a pointed look, unconvinced.

He lets out a sharp breath. “I don’t know how you haven’t heard of him. Maybe if you paid attention to things outside the Pavilion once in a while, you’d know what you’re dealing with.”

I roll my eyes—he’s starting to sound more and more like Dad.

“He comes from a powerful line of Sovereign. They’ve always been feared, but Axe...he’s different. If you’re his target, you’re dead before you even see him coming.”

I scoff. “You kill people too, Spence.”

“No. Not like him. We call him The Reaper.”

The nickname almost makes me laugh, sounding cliché and over-the-top. But the memory of the piercing darkness in Axe’s eyes sends a chill crawling up my spine. I shake my head, unwilling to accept Spencer’s warning.

How could I possibly fear a man simply because of a nickname? Am I supposed to believe that the entire Sovereign organization is terrified of one man?

I shove hangers aside in the wardrobe, trying to calm my nerves, while Spencer paces the room like a caged animal.

“So, what now?” I ask, still focused on the clothes.

“I’ll figure something out. But for now, I need you to do what he says. Don’t give him any reason to hurt you.” I can’t believe he’s asking me to act like some obedient puppy. I shoot him a glare, but he pleads with a desperate gaze, “Please, Rory. I’m begging you; don’t provoke him. Just give me some time.”

Our conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door, and a stagehand announces that rehearsal is starting. I shoot Spencer one last pointed look before walking out, my silence sharp with unspoken anger. It’s not his fault, but I’m too overwhelmed to talk.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of rehearsals and adjustments. Dom and I work on the new choreography, meticulously refining every detail for tomorrow’s performance.

A notification about a client meeting later provides a welcome distraction—a small escape from the crushing presence of the Sovereign.

The drive back to the estate is quick, no distractions, just the hum of the engine and the darkness swallowing the road. The mansion comes into view—sitting on 100 acres of thick, untamed forest, with a wrought-iron fence that screamskeep the fuck out.No one’s stupid enough to test it.

It’s not just a house—it’s a fortress. Built to withstand anything, like the Hawthorne bloodline. The mansion, with its tall towers and massive stone walls, feels more like a curse than a home. Each floor, each room—it might as well be empty. Like the rest of my family, buried in the ground.

Inside, Griffen’s voice echoes from the living room. “Yo! Axe, in here!”

The living room is cast in shadows, the firelight flicking at the dark wood and leather furniture. Griff is sprawled across the couch like he owns the place, a whiskey bottle dangling from his fingers.

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