Page 21 of The Heart of a Villain

Never outright, though—oh no.

My twin doesn’t believe in confrontations but in secret revenge that brings discomfort to whoever dared to cross him.

Or so he says, which I find funny.

“Rafael, you know his temper.”

“I don’t care about his temper,” he almost shouts back and threads his fingers through his hair. “He has no right. I’ll think of something to get back at him.”

I roll my eyes and adjusts my shirt. “Right.” He must hear the resentment in my voice but doesn’t comment on it.

While we are so similar in almost everything, there is one big difference between the two of us that always leads us to arguing.

Rafael is cold and calculative, thinking several steps ahead, and he can stay silent, withstanding discomfort while waiting for the right time to strike. One of the reasons he loves fishing—his patience is absolute. Not to mention his ability to adapt to any situation, and how he graces everyone with smiles, while inside he wishes to destroy them all.

When we’re older, people won’t know they even have a deadly enemy until it’s too late. He shows his true colors only when he knows he’ll emerge the winner in any situation.

Me, though?

Emotions rule me, burning me from inside out and demanding me to act on my instincts right away with no care for the consequences. I cannot play a role or wait. I need justice right away… and despise fishing with all my being.

William calls us Fire and Ice, destined to extinguish each other, and that’s why we will never truly go against each other.

Because only one of us can destroy the other.

I turn when he wraps his hand around my elbow and pulls me into his embrace, his scent enveloping me whole and bringing calmness to the still weeping part of my soul. “I promise you, Rush. Someday, we will defeat him.”

Closing my eyes for a second, I try to find comfort in his words. However, I fail to do so. Maybe because the more years pass by, the more power our father gains.

Or rather, the more a shell of herself our mother becomes, and somehow anger stirs inside me at her for it too.

“It’s okay, Rafael. Someday.” Maybe if I repeat it enough, I will believe it.

At least for my twin’s sake.

“I love you, Villain Rush.”

I laugh. “I love you, Prince Rafael.”

There must be some wisdom in these nicknames. After all, villains always act on their emotions, while princes have kingdoms to think of.

Thunder shakes the sky with an overpowering boom, the lightning flashing around us, and a smile curves my mouth.

Our favorite weather.

One more squeeze and I lean back, motioning with my head toward the fresh canvas near my bed. “Want to paint with me?” My fingers are itching to depict the storm on the spotless canvas, wanting to dirty it up in different shades of blue and express my adoration for this weather.

Mom says my art is an expression of love living deep inside me that very few people can understand. According to her, it’s also my truth because what and who are dear to me will always have a place in my art.

I’m not sure about all that, but I do know I need art in order to breathe.

So maybe she’s right.

My twin groans, pulling me back to the present as he plops on the bed. “You mean watch you paint? No way, dude. It’s boring as hell. My nightmares are more entertaining than that.”

I open my mouth to protest, when a piercing scream reverberates through the space followed by rapid-fire sounds, and we both freeze, looking at each other in shock.

And then my heartbeat speeds up, remembering Father’s gun collection that he keeps on the second floor and how he threatened Mom countless times, to teach her a lesson if she didn’t comply with him, while waving one in the air.

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