Page 1 of Always A Villain
Ithought this would be it. The moment he’d finally break his silence, rip off that damn mask, and give me something real. Just once.
But the words never came.
His mask stayed right where it always does.
I yank on a black sports bra and tight shorts—alone. My hands tremble more than I’d like to admit, the sting of his silence still raw.
The bastard’s hurt me, yet he’s the only one who’s ever made me feel anything but invisible. How twisted is that? I can’t lose him—hell, I don’t even know what I’d do if I did. My chest tightens at the thought, and I clench my fists, pushing the feeling down. Why do I always fall for men who treat me like I’m disposable?
But when I'm with him, when his arms are around me, Ifeel...safe. I hate that I need it. That I need him. The chaos, the pain, it all fades when he’s near, and for a few seconds, I’m not Rory Valentine, the Sovereign’s broken Slut—Axe’stoy.I’m just a girl who wants to be wanted.
I should tell him everything—about the Sovereign, Alicia, and her ultimatum. But I can’t. Not like this. Not while he’s hiding behind that mask. How can I trust him with the truth when he can’t even trust me with his face?
But…he kissed me…and damn it, I felt something. That has to mean something, right? Maybe he’s finally letting me in.
Or…maybe he’s just messing with my head like every other man who’s promised me the world and left me in the dirt.
I don’t have time to dissect the mess inside my brain. The other Sirens are heading down the hall. Throwing my hair up in a messy knot, I glance in the mirror, hoping I look tough enough to fake it. I’m not the badass I pretend to be. I’m just...tired.
Resuming practicing, Dom is ready to bark orders, demanding we run drills repeatedly. Sweat’s pouring off me in seconds, my muscles screaming with every move. The others look just as wrecked, but I’m not complaining. This burn feels good—cleansing, almost. For a moment, I can shut off everything in my head and lose myself.
As music blasts through the speakers, we move in perfect sync, even though we’re all half-dead. Dom’s shouting at every little thing, not letting a single mistake slide.
“Rory, you look like shit. Fix it!” His voice booms across the stage. “Run it again!”
I bite down on the frustration, push through the exhaustion, and go again.
Finally, he throws us a bone—if you can call it that. “We’ll run the French routine, then we’re done.”
A groan echoes from the others. Seriously? The hardest routine when we’re already close to burning out.
Lana tries her luck. “Dom, we’re exhausted. Can we be done already?”
“No. Run it,” he snaps.
I drag myself up the ladder to the trapeze platform. Trisha follows behind me, both of us silently cursing Dom. We assume our positions, balancing at these new heights. The bars still feel foreign, but we’re expected to hit every mark. I catch Jasmine’s eye across on the other platform, and we exchange a look that says it all—let’s get this over with.
“Rory, I’m exhausted,” Trisha whispers. I glance at her, forcing a reassuring smile I barely feel.
“Me too, but we’ve got this,” I whisper back.
“We should’ve been done with practice thirty minutes ago, so get this right!” Dom shouts, and the beat kicks in—“TN”by MALTY 2BZ. The adrenaline hits, and I’m moving before my brain can catch up. We’re flying through the routine, muscle memory taking over, and for a second, italmost feels smooth. Almost.
Then Trisha grabs me mid-air, and something’s wrong. Her grip’s too loose, and my fingers slip from her grasp. My stomach drops. There’s no time to adjust. She’s supposed to toss me to the ring, but her strength’s gone.
“RORY!” Her voice pierces through the chaos, panic twisting in the air. My heart races as I realize I’m in free fall, plummeting toward the floor from twenty feet up. The stage rushes up to meet me, and I can already tell I won’t land on the net entirely.
I crash into the net, and pain erupts through my body, knocking the wind out of me as I bounce back into the air and land hard on the floor. Every bone screams, and the world around me turns into a blur of noise.
Lying there, disoriented, I stare at the ceiling, blood dripping down the side of my face.
“Rory!” That deep, familiar voice cuts through the haze—Axe. I want to snap back, tell him to fuck off, but I can’t even muster the energy to move.
“I’m okay,” I manage to mumble, even though my arms won’t cooperate.
“Fuck, don’t move. Rory!” I feel his hands on me, cradling my head, forcing me to focus on him. “Tell me where it hurts.”
I take a deep breath, fighting through the fog clouding my mind. The world starts to sharpen around me, and I shoot him a glare.
