Page 16 of Always A Villain
“How about you tell me something I don’t know about him? Make this conversation worth my time.”
“You are a feisty one, aren’t you?”
I give him a knowing look, and he laughs.
“Tell you what,” he says, snatching my phone from my hand and typing in his number. “Text me.” As if he’s just won some kind of game, he winks.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you want to know more about Axe.” His smile is infuriatingly charming as he rises to his feet.
“And you’re going to tell me?”
“Maybe.” That grin still plastered on his face. “I’d be happy to chat anytime.” He walks off, cocky as hell, but maybe not the worst.
Kyla appears, holding our trays of food. She drops down beside me, her eyebrow quirking in question.
“Who was that?”
“One of Spencer’s friends.” I shrug and reach for a French fry. The smell is already making my mouth water.Around us, it’s the usual Sovereign craziness—bodies packed tight, music blasting, the skunky cloud of weed thick in the air. Drunk Servants are stumbling all over. It’s...home, in its own messed-up way.
Kyla and I dig into the food, lost in conversation, when distant shouting catches our attention. My ears tune in.Did the next fight already start?
“Sounds like someone’s having areallybad night,” Kyla quips, shoving a fry into her mouth. I laugh, but there’s a tight knot forming in my gut. It’s probably nothing, but...
Scanning the crowd, I try to pinpoint the commotion. Sure, shouting is normal. Fights and drunk Sluts? Just a typical Tuesday. Still, something feels...off.
The shouting gets louder, heads turning as more people look around, trying to figure out what’s going on. And then, the sky lights up—blindingbeams flooding down on us. A gust of wind whips through the air?—
Helicopters.
“GET DOWN!” someone yells, and before I even have time to think, bodies hit the ground around me.
The lights are too bright, searing into my eyes. Then comes the gunfire?—
Sharp.
Deafening.
My heart stutters as bullets rain down from above.
I can’t move, my brain short circuiting to make sense of the massacre unfolding. Bodies drop in front of me, blood soaking the ground in thick, dark pools. The air reeks of copper, the screams are endless, gunshots blending into the horrifying soundtrack of panic.
Kyla grabs at me, her voice high and frantic as she tugs my arm, but I can’t move. I’m frozen—terror locking me in place.
“RORY, RUN!” Kyla’s scream sounds like a distant call.
The world’s a blur—gunfire, blood, smoke—all of it crashing in too fast. Blood pools around me on the ground, the metallic stench of gunpowder choking the air. Everything feelswrong.
“Move!” she yells again, yanking me with her.
Finally, my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, and I’m running—sprinting—alongside the sea of bodies, all clawing for a way out.
Bullets rip past us, the helicopters’ spotlights sweeping like predators hunting for prey. Sovereign soldiers are in the battle now, guns blazing as they fire back.
My heart’s slamming against my ribs.
Boom.
