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I splutter, throwing my hands up in exasperation. Why is it that even when I’m the fucking boss, no-one ever fucking listens.

“You’re not going to hit me, because you’re not a villain.” He pauses for dramatic effect, picks up his jacket, and heads toward the door.

If I’m not a villain, then why did I force the love of my life out of town, heartbroken and alone?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Olivia

The ache in my chest relents for a while when I sleep. As my eyes flicker open, I stretch my arms up above my head, arching my back, and it’s not until my spine straightens that it hits me all over again.

Austin hasn’t come to find me. I’ve left traces, hiding in the most obvious place, but it’s no use. If he wants to find me, he will.

The comments from my channel have been bursting with theories for the last week. Followers postulated that a lovers’ quarrel had separated us as my videos of us together dwindled. I’ve left the remaining ones up; they’ve proved successful, despite the bitter feeling that aches my throat when I review the analytics. They still think Dr. Alfie is the “Masked Man.” My heart breaks for Austin. Knowing him as I do, allowing people to think I belonged to someone else would have been hard to bear.

Luckily, we’re not interesting enough that the comments continue for more than a few days. And then it’s almost like it never happened, and my heart can’t say for sure what's worse.

The air here is stifling. I feel like I’ve been sitting in a sauna for too long. I’m sweating my tits off, but I’m feeling too floppy to move and do anything about it.Take me now, sauna gods. Let me just die here.I’m surprised there’s anything left to sweat out. I’ve cried so much in the last week, I thought I’dneed a drip to rehydrate myself, just so I could cry some more.

It wasn’t until I saw Danny that the realization hit me square in the chest like someone has been using me for shooting practice. I’d put my brother in danger, the only family I have left. It all began with me. And what I said to Austin ...it was unforgivable. His face looked like I’d just killed a puppy right in front of his eyes. And I guess I did—our love was the fucking puppy, and I destroyed it in one rageful moment.

We haven’t spoken since that night. He told me he was going to be the villain, who he was meant to be. Despite all the work he’s done, the hours he’s put in with Dr. Alfie, in building his business, in making me feel so cherished, he still thinks he’s the villain. This is the most fucked-up situation of my life, and I have no idea how to act,how to feel.

And what do I feel? I’m furious. Furious that despite the reputation he has, something like this could have happened. That it was so easy to get to him through me.

He hasn’t texted.

He hasn’t called.

Austin has left me alone to deal with this, no doubt thinking I’m better off without him, and it’s only incensed me more. I don’t need someone who thinks they know better than me. I need someone who will love me even when I push back. I need someone who will be there for me despite all odds. Not a man who forces my brother to send me away. He was too much of a coward to do it himself. Danny couldn’t even offer an explanation, only that it was life or death and I was the next target. If I left, everyone would be safe. That was the deal.

When I’d called Danny a few times, he’d been improving. The swelling had gone down in his eye, and despite the fact that it was still as purple as the oxalis triangularis I tried in Austin’s farm, he looked more like himself. He couldn’t walk, could barely breathe from the broken rib, but he was going to be okay. He promised he would come visit me as soon as things had settled down.

He hadn’t said much on the phone, no real details. Justvague comments that “people were going to get what was coming to them” or “he’s made his bed, now he’s got to lie in it.” Whoeverheis. He won’t tell me who. At first I’d thought he was talking about Austin, but the one thing my brother isn’t sparse on are details about him. He’s still gushing about him like he’s just been signed with some superhero squad. We haven’t talked about the relationship between Austin and me. I know he’s still furious about it. He has every right to be. Instead, he asks me ifI’mokay. He knows enough that my heart is breaking right now. And even though he’s mad, he’s not vindictive.

So here I am, alone, in a new place and wondering what the fuck to do. I’ve been given the okay to update my channel as much as I want to. Danny’s rerouting it though multiple IP addresses so it can’t be traced. All my equipment, including my camera setup, was shipped to me express. It arrived the day after I did.

So I do what I know how. I get to work.

Austin

We’ve reached a plateau.

My father has run out of men he can convince to work for him, and therefore there are no more left for me to kill. We’re at an impasse, a stalemate if you will.

And a plateau is bad for business. A truce is needed on his side. But that’s the thing when you take away someone’s only reason to be good—I have no incentive for a truce. I have no incentive to do anything except be a fucking menace to him until the day he dies.

So I’m taking this meeting to let him know just that. I’ll be here waiting to fuck up every single thing he decides to do. Every deal, fucked. Every investment, fucked. Every time he wants to get his dick wet, well...in that case, not fucked. He won’t have a single woman touch him ever again. No relief, no pleasure, no fucking desire met.

And it’s a small price to pay, for imprisoning me in thislife, for what he did to Danny, to Olivia. My girl. Alone and believing that I don’t want her when my bones ache at the very memory of her.

My driver pulls up alongside the dock. The lights are bright ahead despite all the workers being home. I’m sure even the security have been let go for this rendezvous. Luca and I step out of the car, doing up the button on my jacket, Luca checks his gun. I’m not carrying a weapon tonight. We have good men with us who’ve joined us from the old life. They’re armed and ready for whatever lies ahead. We stride between container ships, knowing the route like the back of my hand. We don’t need to talk; everything has been planned for.

I hear the mutters of low voices and shuffling feet before we turn the corner. My father comes into view, his tall frame and broad build drawing all fields of vision toward him. He’s flanked by two shorter men that look like they work out six hours a day. I don’t recognize either. Do they know who they’re working for and who they’re up against? The dumb look on both their faces would suggest not.

“Son.” My father beams, arms open like I haven’t just killed eleven henchmen.

“John.”