Page 86 of Once A Villain

His hoodie’s pulled up, hiding his hair, and that mask of his is still firmly in place. The only thing I can see are his eyes, deep brown and unreadable.

“Why the mask?” I reach for it, just to see if he’ll flinch, but his hands shoot out, catching my wrists before I get close.

I pout, trying to look all sweet and innocent, but he’s not buying it. His grip tightens when his thumb brushes over an old scar on my wrist, and I try to pull back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he brings my hand closer, inspecting the scar.

“It’s nothing.” I shrug, trying to sound casual, but the way his eyes lock onto mine makes my skin prickle.

He’s not just looking—he’s searching, digging for answers I’m not sure I want to give.

“It was a long time ago,” I mutter. “Just a stupid mistake.”

His grip tightens, and I realize I’m not getting out of this without saying more. “I wasn’t really trying to kill myself...I mean, I did try, but...” I trail off, raw and painful memories surfacing. “I was just a dumb teenager, desperate for attention, for someone to care. It was stupid.”

I can’t believe I’m sharing this with him, but maybe that’s the alcohol talking. His grip on my arm is firmer now, almost possessive.

“It’s just one of those things.” I sigh, trying to shake off the weight of the past. “You do something reckless, not thinking about what comes after. And the world just keeps moving on, while you’re stuck with the scars.”

I grab the wine bottle again, taking another long drink, hoping to drown out the memories.

“Father-of-the-year award goes to my dad.” I force out a laugh, but it’s as empty as his promises. “Instead of being worried when I landed in the hospital, all he did was get angry. Didn’t even bother to visit. Cold as ice, especially after my mom died…like I wasn’t even there.”

Why am I even talking about it? It’s ancient history, but the sting is still fresh.

“But he’s only that way with me. He loves my brother.” My eyes start to sting, tears threatening, but I blink hard, fighting them back. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got your own sad story. We all do, don’t we?”

I sniff, trying to shake off the vulnerability.

He’s silent. Of course.

“I mean, nobody wears a mask and screws…someone like me without dragging around a ton of baggage.” The word ‘whore’ catches in my throat, too bitter to say aloud.

His body tenses, and his eyes narrow.

“I’m not judging,” I rush to say, sensing the shift in the air. “We’ve all got our demons. I’m just saying, we’re not that different.”

Still nothing.

“Mine is daddy issues and a fucked-up relationship with men.” I laugh. “Yours? Probably something dark and dangerous.” I pause, waiting for any reaction, but he just stares, unreadable as ever.

I reach for the wine bottle, but his hand clamps down on my wrist.

“Oh, come on.” I pout, trying to play it cute.

I twist my wrist, but he’s too strong, not giving an inch. Frustrated, I lean in closer, pressing against him. “Let me have the wine.”

But he doesn’t budge, his eyes locked onto mine, challenging me.

“If you knew the shit I’ve been through, you’d let me drink,” I huff, trying to pull away, but it’s no use.

Rolling my eyes, I give up, sliding off him and flopping onto my side, staring at him.

“I want to know who you are,” I insist, reaching to lift his hood. But he grabs my wrist to stop me. “Fine, be mysterious. You’re good at it.” I sigh.

All I want is that damn wine. I could sneak another bottle, but waking Spencer isn’t worth it.

“You know what? I’ll tell you the messed-up reason I’m here,” I say, gesturing around the room. “In the Hamptons. And if you think it’s worth getting drunk over, I’ll finish this bottle with you.”

I take a deep breath, searching for the words to explain my fucked-up life with Axe without revealing the Sovereign or its secrets.

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