Page 7 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

He turned to face me again. “A gun doesn’t care what time of day it is when you shoot it. It doesn’t give a shit what the circumstances are when you pull that trigger. And that means you need to always be in control of it. No matter what. Once that bullet leaves the chamber, you make sure it always hits the target. Always.”

He swung around and disappeared around the corner. I didn’t know this man, I didn’t know this house, and if I were any other boy, I’d probably be shit scared right now. But I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

It felt good to take a shower, to wash off the filth Roland’s hands left on me. To get rid of the stench of neglect. They were gone. Both of them.

And Ellie.

The man who saved me shot Roland—the man who became my version of the monster under my bed. And me? I killed my mother. I could still feel the syringe in my palm, how I slowly injected the heroin into her arm. I could still see her face, her glazed eyes as the drug spread through her veins, killing her. Her apology right before she died meant nothing to me. Nothing. Because of her, Ellie was gone, and I had no idea what they had done to her.

Did they take her away?

Did they kill her?

I wasn’t sure which one would be worse—my little sister being dead or locked up somewhere being hurt by monsters. It kept me up at night, wondering if she was under the same night sky as me, or whether she was looking down from Heaven. Maybe Heaven was better—for her, at least. If she were dead, I’d mourn her, cry for her, miss her. But she’d be safe, unharmed, and no longer hungry or afraid.

I sat down at the dining table, and the man placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of me, the smell of herbs and spices filling my nostrils and causing saliva to coat my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.

He took a seat at the other end of the dining table. “Someone will be coming by tonight. Someone who wants to see you.”

“Who?”

“He’s family.” Gianni gestured to my plate. “Now, eat. You need some meat on your bones, boy.”

I twirled the spaghetti around on the fork. I was surprised I still remembered how to do that since the last time my mom cooked spaghetti was before my dad died. When Ellie and I were still beloved kids who got taken care of by our own parents.

“Thank you,” I murmured as I kept my gaze down.

“For what?”

I glanced up. “For saving me.”

The weight of my gratitude was right there in his eyes as he stared back at me, as if he knew I had never meant anything more than what I had said right now.

He simply nodded, rubbing his hands together as he leaned his elbows on the table.

I took a bite of the food, the tangy tomatoes with the subtle sweetness of basil exploding in my mouth. After that first taste, it was like years and years of going to bed hungry had rushed back, my stomach feeling like my throat had been cut off. I couldn’t get the food into my mouth fast enough, and I turned from boy to savage.

“Hey, slow down, Elijah. The last thing we need is for you to choke to death.”

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. “How do you know my name?”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowed.

“You know me?”

He still didn’t answer.

“That explains the clean clothes.”

“How so?”

I placed the fork down. “I knew it was no coincidence, you having a set of clean clothes ready for me. All in my size.”

He cocked a brow. “I have a son your age.”

“No, you don’t.”

“How do you know I don’t have a son?” He seemed curious as to how I’d answer, slanting his head to the side as he studied me.

---