Page 20 of Always A Villain
“I’m not leaving without you,” Rory protests, voice trembling but laced with that stubborn fire. She can’t stay in this blood-soaked chaos—she needs out.
But hell, the only thing worse than her in the middle of this mess is the thought of her out there, unprotected, where I can’t keep her safe.
This wasn’t the Dolore. This was something else. But they fucked up. I’m still breathing, and I’ll tear them apart when I find them.
“Kyla!” General Reese calls out. Kyla breaks away from Griffen, sprinting to him. “Go and stay with our son.” He pulls her away from the group and loads her into one of the trucks with the other Servants. Then Reese heads my way, jaw set.
“Axe,” he says, “Rory can stay with Kyla at my manor. My son’s there, 24-hour security. She’ll be safe.”
Rory tenses in my grip, like she already knows I’m about to send her off. I hate it. I’ve never had to make this kind of decision before. I’ve always known my path—kill or be killed, hunt or be hunted.
But she’s becomemine. The only thing in this fucked-up world that feels like it’s worth more than the blood on my hands. The idea of leaving, of trusting someone else to keep her safe—it’s eating me alive.
But I’m not built to protect. I’m built to destroy—I’m a weapon.
“Axe,” Griffen says, “she’ll be fine. We need you here.”
I turn to Reese, decision made. “If anything happens to her, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Reese nods, a dark understanding in his eyes. He knows I’m not bluffing.
I look down at Rory, her blue eyes wide. She’s silently begging me, but she can’t stay.
“Rory, baby, you have to go,” I force out, grabbing her chin so she meets my eyes. “I need to find out who did this, and I can’t do that unless I know you’re safe.”
Her head shakes, voice breaking. “Axe, please…don’t leave me.”
“Shh.” I crush my mouth to hers, quick and desperate. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”
Peeling her arms off me, I shove her toward the truck. She fights, screaming my name, but I force her inside. She’ll thank me later, when she’s alive to do it.
Reese slams the door, cutting off her last plea.
“Let’s move!” Arsen shouts behind me, and it’s like a switch flips in my head. Vengeance drowns out everything else. I tear my gaze from Rory’s truck, locking onto the group of Commanders, Generals, and other Sovereigns. My muscles coil, adrenaline surging, the taste of blood still bitter on my tongue.
Whoever coordinated this? They’ve signed their death warrant. The Sovereign don’t go down without a fight, and now they’ve declared open war.
And war is what I do best.
Igive Kyla a tight squeeze before darting out into the rain, my shoes splashing through puddles as I make my way to Griffen’s waiting SUV. I've been crashing at her place for the past few days, but apparently, that’s over. Griffen messaged me this morning, saying Axe had hired a private security team for the house, and now, according to him, I’m not “allowed” to stay anywhere else.
Not sure how I feel about that. Axe’s sudden urge to play protector has my head spinning. The last few days have been an emotional free fall—going from terrified, to relieved, to pissed off. It’s like I can’t keep up.
The attack is all anyone’s talking about. The Servants, the Associates—everyone’s buzzing with wild conspiracy theories, speculating endlessly because the Sovereign hasn’t said a word. No explanation, no official statement.Just silence.
I yank open the door and hop into the passenger seat, tugging on my seatbelt before giving Griffen a once-over. He looks like he’s been through hell—a bandage on his forehead, a busted lip, bruises and cuts scattered across his face. Likely souvenirs from the attack, though with him and Axe, a fistfight isn’t out of the question. Those two seem to throw down as casually as they drink whiskey.
“Hey Griffen,” I say, settling in.
“Rory,” he replies, his voice gruff, eyes locked on the road as he pulls away from the curb. “How you holding up?”
“Fine,” I mutter as I stare out the window. “Have the Sovereign figured out who attacked us?”
Griffen’s silence is louder than the rain streaking the windows. His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. “No,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Only Generals and Commanders are involved with the investigation. The rest of us are in the dark.”
I glance at him, noticing his stress. He’s tense, wound up in a way that’s totally unlike him. The cocky, carefree Griffen is nowhere to be found. “Isaac’s got them working round the clock. They’ve been holed up at the Command Center for days, barely sleeping.”
I want to ask about Axe—how he’s doing, if he’s safe—but I bite my tongue.
