Page 71 of Always A Villain
“In a pool of his own vomit, choking on his blood. The man who taught me life was a worthless cunt, choked on his own shit, and died alone.”
His tone is detached—the memory’s just another piece of his past. But I can feel the weight of it, even if he won’t admit it. I stare at him, searching for something to say, but what the hell do you say to that?
“I’m sorry,”I finally murmur, the words feeling pointless.
“For what?” His brow furrows, eyes narrowing. “He deserved to die, Rory. Don’t waste your pity on him.” There’s anger in his voice now, but I can see it—he’s been carrying that pain for so damn long.
“What about your mother?”
“She overdosed.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Wasn’t much of a loss. She wouldn’t have lasted long anyway.”
“Axe…you deserved better.”
For a second, I think he might say something—something real, something vulnerable—but instead, he pulls away. “You should get some sleep,” he deflects, already standing.
I watch him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room. Pulling the blankets up over my head, I block out the world. Becausefuck, there’s nothing I can do to fix what’s broken in him. But I wish I could.
Kane nudges the bedroom door open and lets out a deep sigh as he curls on the floor next to the bed. I try to close my eyes and push away the mess of thoughts swirling in my mind. But a sharp, high-pitched beep slices through the quiet, snapping me awake. I sit up, glancing at Kane. He doesn't even stir. Must be nothing. If it were something, he would be alert. Right?
“What’s that sound?” I mutter.
Axe steps out of the bathroom. “What sound?”
“That beeping,” I reply, scanning the room.
Instantly, his expression hardens, and he bolts for his dresser. “Kane,aanval!” Kane launches off the floor, nails scraping as he charges out the door. His barking echoes down the hall.
“Rory, get dressed. Now.” He’s already yanking on jeans and boots. My pulse spikes, and the air suddenly feels too thin.
“Why?” I ask, my voice shaky, my body frozen.
“The perimeter’s been breached. Someone’s here.” Our eyes lock—his cold and lethal, mine probably wide with fear. And then room plunges into total darkness, and my heart stutters.Oh, hell no.
“Shit—fuck—Rory, get dressed!” He grips my arm, pulling me from the bed and shoving me toward the dresser. “Don’t leave this room. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”
He grabs his phone, the screen casting an eerie glow, then triggers an alarm that blasts through the house, drenching everything in red light. It feels like the whole world’s on fire. His intense eyes meet mine one last time.
“Do. Not. Leave.”
And then he’s gone, gun drawn, disappearing into the hallway.
My hands tremble as I yank on my underwear, one of his shirts, and shove my feet in my sneakers. I crouch by the bed, trying to become invisible, heart pounding so violently I swear it’ll burst out of my chest. The sirens are blaring, making it impossible to think straight.
This can’t be happening.
Through the blaring alarm, I hear Kane’s ferocious barks, and the growing noise from outside as gunshots rip through the air. Men’s voices shout orders, footsteps thundering through the house.
I scramble under the bed, curling into myself, tears streaming down my face as my breaths come in short, ragged gasps.
The lights flicker back on, flooding the room with harsh brightness. But the noise—the fighting, the shouting—it’s everywhere.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.
I stay there, trying to make myself as small as possible.
The door creaks open, and I freeze, heart pounding in my throat as I tame my shaking body. Heavy boots thud across the floor, and I hear low murmurs—too many voices to count. The floor groans beneath their weight, each step closer, the sound of my worst nightmare coming to life.
“Come out, pretty girl,” one of them calls, his voice dripping with a calm confidence that’s almost worse than the situation itself. Russian, maybe? Eastern European? It doesn’t matter. What matters is I can’t move, can’t breathe. His smooth, foreign accent slithers through the air, tightening around my throat. “Don’t make me find you.”
