Page 26 of Once A Villain

“Take the goddamn collar off,” I snap.

He retrieves a small key from his pocket and steps closer, his breath warm against my neck. “No,” he whispers, returning the key to his pocket. I want to stab him, cut him, hurt him.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, turning sharply and storming away. I race through the house, ignoring Alicia’s calls behind me.

Upstairs, I slam into a bathroom and immediately double over, retching violently. Disgust churns in my stomach—for myself, for him, for the whole fucking situation. Tears stream down my face as I sob uncontrollably.

“Rory.” Alicia’s voice breaks through my cries.

“Leave me alone!”

“It’s not polite to ignore your guests.” Her tone is filled with faux concern. I won’t dignify her with a response, and after a few moments, her heels click away down the stairs.

In the bathroom mirror, I see the reflection of a woman in a beautiful wedding dress who’s terrified and heartbroken. My chest heaves with sobs, and I can barely catch my breath.

I want to scream. I want to tear this dress off and rip the collar from my skin.

I will never belong to him. Never.

Iwas surprised when Conrad proposed a traditional wedding. Not unexpected given his status, but surprising all the same. I agreed because it served my purpose—making a grand display of what is now mine and what he lost.

She’s breathtaking. Every bit the perfect bride. But I see it—the fury simmering beneath that polished exterior. I fucking live for it. She doesn’t even realize how deep my control runs, how tight the collar is around her neck. Sure, it’s symbolic. But it’s real, too.

She belongs to me—whether she likes it or not.

I signal the bartender for another scotch—my fourth or fifth, I’ve lost count. My gaze sweeps over the crowd, spotting high-profile Sovereigns and wealthy Sovereign Associates. The mingling, small talk—I fucking hate it.

I kill people; I don’t talk to them.

The party drags on, the music and laughter grating on my nerves. My new pet is nowhere to be found, and I’m tempted to drag her back to stand by my side.

Spencer slides onto the stool next to me, scowling as he pours himself a drink. He shoves an envelope in my direction.

“Just consider it. You’ve made your point. No need to continue,” he mutters, frustration dripping from every word.

I rip the envelope open. Sovereign marriage dissolution papers. A cold, humorless laugh crawls up my throat.

“Not a fucking chance.”

His jaw clenches as I hold the papers over the flickering candle. The edges curl, darken, burn.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

I meet his glare with a smirk.

“Did you even ask your father who the Death Bond target was?” The flicker of confusion in his eyes tells me everything.

“No...but?—”

“Marco DeLuca.” I let the name hit him, watching the color drain from his face. Conrad kept that detail locked up tight, but now Spencer’s putting it together. DeLuca wasn’t just powerful—killing him sent a tidal wave through the underworld, and payback’s coming.

“Why—”

I down the rest of my scotch in one go. “Ask your father,” I say flatly before turning away.

Still no sign of Rory. My eyes fix on Conrad instead, who is at the center of attention, working the crowd with his typical arrogance. His fucking smile will be wiped off his face soon enough.

As I approach the house, Alicia steps into my path, her tight red dress barely containing her tits, reeking like she drowned herself in perfume.

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