Page 56 of The Heart of a Villain

I did it.

Gulping for more air in my lungs, I spin around and freeze when I notice how everyone who came to watch the show is dead, their lifeless bodies hanging off the benches or in the arena.

The kids still sit in the cages, gazing with fear at the ten men creating a circle around me as they zero their focus on me and then on Jim.

And among them all, I notice a blond man with the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, who swings his metallic cane back and forth, the sharp tip glistening in the sun as he cocks his head to the side and studies me.

I step back from the aura of dominance and power emitting from him in spades that knock the wind out of me.

As if the entire world belongs to him as he rules it with an iron fist, and we are all merely his subjects.

Fear rushes through my veins, and I take one more step back when he moves toward me, and then without thinking, I rip the blade from Jim’s body and point it at him, warning him despite my hands shaking, “Stay away from me!” No doubt, he is the leader among them, since they stand still, awaiting his reaction, but I will no longer be anyone’s fucking punching bag.

They might have saved us from these assholes, but I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago. They probably want to use us in their own twisted agenda, as free cheese lies only in mouse traps.

My twin didn’t give enough shits to come save me, so why would strangers give a fuck about us kids? Especially considering the majority of them were kidnapped from the streets, so no one would come and look for them.

He doesn’t listen to me and continues to walk, his steps measured and sure while having zero reaction to my outburst, so I try again. “Stay away, or I will hurt myself!” My voice is incredibly raspy, and my words are not as clear as they could have been if I’d used it all these years. “I mean it!” I threaten, knowing full well how such men value their “products,” and he stops while disappointment fills me.

Because it means I’m right, and he is another curse and not our salvation, although hoping for salvation while living in hell is really stupid and naïve.

He speaks up, his tone even and cold as ice, indicating a ruthless nature. “Arson.” That’s the only word he speaks, and I frown, wondering what he means by that, when someone grabs me from behind and removes the blade from my hands.

“No!” I scream, struggling in his hold, but the blue-haired man just throws the blade away and then grips my shoulders hard, making me stand in place while the blond one comes closer and closer. “No!” I whisper, suddenly so exhausted from all the fighting and everything destiny has thrown my way that I’m ready to do something I haven’t done in ages.

Cry.

Tears form in my eyes, but I blink them away, hating to show them my weakness, and instead bite on my lips and meet the blond man head-on.

Silence falls around us as we stare at one another, and then he lifts my chin with the tip of his metallic cane, while I freeze, awaiting what disgusting shit might spill from his mouth, and worse, while his men watch. I have no strength left to save myself from whatever they dish out.

“What’s your name?”

Despite the situation, I blink in surprise at his question. No one’s ever asked for my name.

I was just Boy or Toy or a fucker, depending on their mood. Why does this stranger need it?

Since I have nothing to lose, I reply, mustering all the courage I can, “Rush.”

A beat passes, and then someone’s agonized scream fills the air again, and I hear Keith beg, “No, please.” And then another lethal man drags him toward us until Keith sits on his knees beside me.

The blond man motions with his head toward him. “Do you want him dead like that one?” He points at Jim. “Or to suffer?” His gaze slides down my scars and then back to my eyes. To my astonishment, I don’t feel dirty or have the desire to run away because in his eyes, I do not see anything despicable.

Instead, somehow, it’s as if this man knows exactly what I feel, but that’s impossible, right?

What do monsters truly know about the suffering of mere mortals?

“Suffer,” I manage to say, wanting to be the one to inflict the torture on Keith for everything he’s done to me and all these children. Their sobs in cells after he raped them repeatedly still echo in my ears. I wish to be the one to hurt him, but I don’t have such skills.

If these men prefer to eliminate their enemies, then why not voice my last wish before they too show their dark side to me?

“Very well. Micaden,” he addresses his man, and the one who dragged Keith over here presses his fingers hard into Keith’s neck, making him lose consciousness. “Keep him in the dungeon.” Then he looks back at me and tells me, “I will give you a chance, Rush. Do not make me regret it.” A beat passes. “For if the darkness cannot be controlled, it shall be destroyed before it poisons your mind completely.”

On that fateful day, I met Kaden Lachlan Scott.

A man who pulled me out from my hell, killed all my enemies, and gave me a chance despite the madness consuming me deeper and deeper.

He gave me education, money, a home, and a family name, but more importantly, he taught me how to channel my dark cravings into a good cause. For everyone he gathered around the world came from some kind of abuse, and as long as we never killed an innocent, we stayed protected under his power.

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