Page 45 of Always A Villain
“Oh no,” I whisper, throat tightening at the image. It’s like I can see it—his brother, broken and lifeless. My heart aches for him, but also for the boy Axe once was.
“I climbed down as fast as I could, swam out. But it didn’tmatter. He was already dead.” His guilt clings to every word.
“Axel, I’m so sorry.” My voice feels small, useless against the weight of it all.
“Don’t be.” He sighs, bitterness clinging to each word. “It was my fault. I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have pushed him.”
“You were just a kid.” I try to soothe him, though I can tell it’s not what he wants to hear. There’s a sharpness in his eyes, like the blame is carved into him, impossible to remove.
“I was an asshole,” he retorts bluntly. “The next day, my father killed Zeus. Said there was no need for him now that Lucas was dead.”
“He...he killed your dog?” I gasp.
“Yeah. He told me to do it. And when I refused, he dragged Zeus outside, right in front of me. Made me watch him put a bullet through his skull.” His voice is detached, but there’s an edge underneath, like it still cuts him deep.
“That’s...horrible.” Who the hell does that to their own kid? To an animal?
“That was a warm-up for him.”
“Axe...” I try to find something, anything to say, but words feel too small, too shallow for the level of cruelty he endured.
“My childhood wasn’t normal, and it sure as hell isn’t something you want to hear before bed.” His grip tightens around me, pulling me closer. “Get some sleep,” he says firmly, signaling the end of the conversation. I don’t argue; I can feel the topic closing like a door. He kisses the top of my head, his lips brushing softly against my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, almost inaudibly.
I rest my head on his chest. His heartbeat echoes steadily beneath me. He wraps his arms around me, and silence settles between us.
I can’t even wrap my head around what Axe went through, what he and his brother endured. Questions swirl in my mind, begging to be asked, but his breathing’s deep, steady. He’s asleep.
My fingers trail over the scars hidden beneath the ink of his tattoos—so many of them etched into his skin. Griffen’s voice creeps in, reminding me that most of those scars are courtesy of his father.
I tilt my head, eyes tracing the jagged scar along his neck, protruding through the ink.Is that from his father too?
Resting my head back against his chest, I sink into him, letting his warmth surround me. In this moment, I don’t want to move. I want to stay wrapped in this strange safety—his body heat, his strength—it feels almost like...being cherished.
A small, ridiculous smile tugs at my lips.
His voice cuts through the silence, low and rough, like he’s speaking through a dream. “What’s your favorite color?”
I blink and glance up. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Red,” I whisper, still smiling faintly. “What’s yours?”
His lips barely move. “You.”
My breath catches, a sharp tug pulling at something deep in my chest. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t say anything else. Just holds me tighter, like he means it. Like maybe, for a second, he needs me too. I know Axe doesn’t love me. He’s not built for that. But damn it...a part of me still wishes he did.
Morning light floods the room, bright and obnoxious, chasing away sleep as birds chirp like some annoying animated movie. I squint against the glare. I don’t need to move to know I’m sore—every muscle aches, thighs, arms, ass, all of it screaming. I smirk, biting my lip at the memory.
Axe’s side of the bed is cold, the sheets empty. I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. God, the things he did to me. The way he touched me—like he was claiming something deep inside me. It wasn’t just sex. It was something more.
Something perfect.
He knew exactly what I craved, and he fed it like an addiction.
I glance down at the faint scratches on my arms. They don’t hurt, but remembering how they got there sends ashiver down my spine. And then…the part that really messes with me. He took care of me after. Cleaned me. Dried me off. Treated me like I was something worth keeping.
He held me.
