Page 35 of Once A Villain

“I could say the same to you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she purrs, trailing her fingers down my arm, tracing my tattoos. “You’re looking good, Axe. As always.” Her eyes rake over my body, her hand lingering on my chest.

“Alicia,” I growl, grabbing her wrist and squeezing hard. She winces, eyes widening. “Do not fucking touch me. Do it again, and I’ll break your arm.”

“Still the same old Axe.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You never change.” A sinister smile crosses her face. “Rory isn’t my favorite person either. Maybe we can bond over our mutual dislike.”

“Alicia, get the fuck out of here,” I snap, releasing her wrist.

“We have unfinished business.” She runs her tongue along her lips, eyes locked on mine.

“No, we don’t. Now, fuck off.”

She laughs, turning to walk away. Over her shoulder, she grins. “Just like old times.”

I fucking hate that cunt.

The foyer fills with parents and children, and the chatter and commotion are distracting. The venue is a prestigious academy, and it is clearly well-funded.

Family gatherings? I wouldn’t know. The closest I got to “family time” was bleeding out on the floor while my father lit up a cigarette, watching me crawl back to my feet so that he could knock me down again.

He was a Sovereign to the bone—an unfeeling, merciless bastard. From the moment I could walk, he had one purpose: to make me a weapon.

Emotions? Attachments? That shit was weakness, and weakness didn’t survive in his world. All I knew was pain. Every lesson came with fists and boots, the barrel of a gun shoved in my face until I could dismantle it in seconds. He taught me to kill, break bones, maim, destroy.

I fought every day to survive, not just because he demanded it, but because I had no choice. It was kill or be killed, even in my own home. By the time I hit eighteen and joined the Sovereign, I wasn’t just a soldier—I was his creation, the perfect weapon, cold-blooded and lethal.

All Hawthornes are Sovereigns. That’s the legacy.

A legacy of violence, blood, and death.

The auditorium doors open, and the crowd spills in. Spencer’s got his arm around Rory, whispering like he’s some kind of knight. I sit next to her, and he yanks his arm away.

Rory goes rigid, anger radiating off her.

I lean in, voice low. “Enjoying the show?”

She grits her teeth and huffs in annoyance.

The lights dim, and the dancers hit the stage. I throw my arm over the back of her chair, and she shifts away. I slide my fingers down her shoulder, knowing Spencer is watching this. Rory tenses, narrowing her eyes at me.

With deliberate slowness, I tangle my fingers in her hair, the strands soft against my skin, carrying the scent of lavender. I brush against the metal collar, and she shivers, letting out a sharp breath.

Leaning in, I whisper, “You looked sexy crawling for me, little siren.”

Locking eyes with me, she leans in, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot on my skin. “You should see what I can do with my mouth,” she purrs, sliding her hand up my thigh. Her fingers graze the inside, making me suck in a sharp breath. She pulls away, her expression shifting to one of seduction, lips curled into a sly smile.

The little bitch thinks she’s clever. But I’m not falling for her shit.

“Stop,” I snap, and her smile immediately fades.

“You seemed to be enjoying it.” Her hand slides up further, her fingers lingering close to my dick. “I can see how hard you are, Axel.”

Her fingers graze my erection, and a groan involuntarily escapes. She smirks, clearly satisfied with herself.

My blood boils, and I grab her wrist, squeezing it tight.

“If you try that again, I’ll punish you.”

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