Page 25 of Always A Villain (Revenge Duet #2)

“ T he cuts and bruises will heal fine,” the nurse says, her eyes scanning my battered skin. “You're lucky—nothing serious.” She offers a small smile, the kind that's meant to comfort, but it barely registers through the haze of pain. I manage a tight smile back.

“No dancing for at least two weeks. Ice the injuries,” she adds, her voice clinical, and I nod, half-focused. She grabs a bottle from the counter and presses it into my hand. “Antibiotics. Take them daily, no exceptions.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, fingers closing around the bottle as I nod along, though my mind is miles away.

Axe.

The second his name surfaces, my chest tightens. I still can’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. He said he loves me. He apologized. Axe—the same cold, heartless man who never blinked twice at my agony—claims to love me. It’s almost laughable, except it’s too messed up to be funny.

“You’re all set, honey,” the nurse says, a hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Need any help?”

Shaking my head, I manage a polite thank you as I head toward the door, but my eyes lock onto Axe across the room.

He’s arguing with another nurse, his leg propped up on a chair, blood staining his shirt and pants like a bad horror scene.

Even beat to hell, he’s gorgeous in that infuriating way—like the universe is mocking me.

My heart aches, betraying me with every erratic beat.

He claims he loves me, but I can’t shake the doubt.

Can I trust him? Or is this just another manipulation, another lie wrapped up in a fake apology?

The way he acted when he wore the mask—it was like he was someone else entirely.

But no, it was him all along. The man who I’ve always wanted is the same one who’s standing over there, bleeding and beautiful.

And I hate it. I hate him. Except...I don’t.

And that’s what’s really driving me insane.

Because if I didn’t care anymore—if I really, truly didn’t—why doesn’t the idea of being divorced from him fill me with relief?

“I don’t need fucking stitches,” Axe growls at the nurse, causing her to flinch and take a step back. She glances at his leg, and it’s bad—bad enough that even Griffen lets out a low chuckle.

“He's always such a charmer,” Griffen quips to the nurse with a grin. I roll my eyes but wander closer, curiosity getting the best of me. Axe’s pant leg is roughly cut above the knee where the nurse works, trying to clean the dried blood from a nasty gash.

“You really should get stitches,” the nurse insists. Axe opens his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it, placing a hand on his shoulder before he can start up.

“Let her do it.”

His eyes meet mine, the fight in them dimming just a bit. With a grunt of reluctant acceptance, he leans back, letting the nurse prepare to stitch him up.

I step back, exhaustion crashing over me, and slump into the chair beside Griffen. My eyes flutter, fighting to stay open, but Griffen’s voice pulls me back before I completely zone out.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks, his tone more serious now.

“I'm fine,” I lie, sinking deeper into the seat.

My stomach’s doing flips, and all I can think about is not running into my dad—or Spence.

The thought of facing them again sends a chill straight through me.

Spencer’s face flashes in my mind, and my chest tightens.

I can’t believe he just sat there. Watched.

Let Dad hit me. I get that he’s disappointed—hell, I’m disappointed in myself—but I never thought he'd abandon me like that.

Tears threaten, but I blink them back.

Griffen, oblivious to the storm inside me, laughs. “Don’t let him fool you. Axe is a big baby,” he says, leaning back. “The biggest pussy you'll ever meet.” He shoots Axe a mischievous grin.

Axe glares, his eyes narrowing. “You cried like a bitch when I broke your arm,” he fires back, causing the nurse to stifle a laugh .

“You didn’t have to break my fucking arm, and I was nine,” Griffen mutters, arms crossed.

“You should’ve blocked it,” Axe snaps, not missing a beat.

“I wasn’t expecting you to throw a damn brick at me.”

Their back-and-forth is a welcome distraction, something to drown out the chaos in my head, if only for a moment.

I let out a long breath and rest my head against the wall, my body slowly giving in to the weight of the day.

Axe’s grumbling, Griffen’s muttering, it all fades into white noise.

I can feel the tremor in my hands as my muscles unwind, the fight draining out of me. I just need a minute to shut my eyes…

“I’m almost done,” the nurse says softly.

“I didn’t ask.” Axe’s voice is cold, the words biting. But I don’t open my eyes as sleep pulls me under, tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

I don’t even realize I’ve dozed off until I feel Axe’s hand shaking me gently.

“Rory, we’ve gotta go.”

I groan, trying to blink away the fog of sleep, but my eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. He kneels in front of me.

“Wake up, little siren.” I hate how his voice, that stupid, smooth, infuriating voice, stirs something inside me.

“I’m awake,” I mumble.

“C’mon.” Axe pulls me up from the chair with a firm but tender touch. My legs protest immediately, wobbly and weak, and before I know it, his arm is around my waist, steadying me.

“Easy, you're okay.”

I hate how much I lean into him, but my legs won’t stop shaking.

“Griffen, jacket. Now,” Axe snaps, and Griffen quickly removes his jacket, handing it over without a word. Axe wraps it around me, the warmth seeping into my freezing skin. I tug the sleeves over my hands, grateful for the extra layer. His arm stays on me, guiding us down the hall.

We step outside, and the cool night air slaps me in the face.

I shiver harder, teeth practically chattering.

He opens the door to the Range Rover, helping me in like I’m some delicate princess.

I watch him talk briefly with Griffen, probably giving him orders or warnings—typical—and then he slides into the driver’s seat.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“No,” I mutter, staring out the window. Food is the last thing on my mind, and my stomach is still doing somersaults.

“When was the last time you ate?”

I shrug. I don’t even know. Could’ve been yesterday, could’ve been three days ago. “I don’t remember,” I say, still avoiding his gaze.

“We're stopping for something.” His voice has that edge that says he’s made up his mind, and I know better than to argue. The car falls into silence, save for the hum of the engine. We veer off the main road, onto a smaller highway, passing gas stations and fast-food chains.

I catch him scanning the rear-view mirror, checking for people following us. The tension in his muscles is visible, like he’s one wrong move from snapping .

“What would you eat?” he asks again, and I shrug, not in the mood for the interrogation.

“I’m not sure,” I mumble, but he’s not letting it go.

“Okay. What’s your favorite food?” he pushes, eyes still glued to the road.

“Why does it matter?” I snap, more annoyed than I should be.

“Because you need to eat, and I need to feed you.”

I don’t answer. Just stare out the window, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

He doesn’t push again. Just makes a turn, then another. A few minutes later, we’re pulling into a drive-thru. I don't even pay attention to the menu.

Tears prick at my eyes, and I swallow over the lump in my throat. I can’t keep it together anymore. All I want—god, all I want—is to reach out to Spencer. Beg him to forgive me, to tell him how sorry I am, how I never meant for things to end up like this.

As Axe orders, I dig through the console for a charger, plugging in my cracked phone. Finally, the screen flickers to life, bathing the car in its dim glow as I’m hit with a barrage of notifications. But none from Spencer.

Not a single one.

I take a shaky breath, close my eyes, and try to hold it together. After everything...I can’t believe this. This is it. My punishment. For breaking the vow, for daring to take back some semblance of control.

Once the food is in Axe’s hands, he pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine.

“Here, no cheese,” he says, holding out a hamburger. He unwraps it like it’s some peace offering, and just that simple gesture has tears welling up again.

“Rory?” His voice shifts, softer, more concerned.

I can’t hold it in anymore. “Today, in my dad’s office.

..” I start, my voice trembling. “The way Spence looked at me... He looked at me like I was filth. Like he hated me. He didn’t even try to stop him.

Just sat there... I know what I did was fucked up, but that look. .. I’ve never felt so ashamed.”

The sobs come, shaking my whole body. “I’ve ruined everything,” I choke out.

“All because I wanted something that was mine. Something the Sovereign couldn’t touch or take away.

” The confession is like an unstoppable wave.

“I just needed to know that a part of me was still mine. Still free. That’s why I did it, in case you’re wondering.

” I wipe at my face, tears blurring my vision, but they keep coming.

“It wasn’t about the sex or the money—it was about control.

It was about me, just me...needing to have control over something . ”

He says nothing, but suddenly, I’m in his lap, his arms wrapping around me. I bury my face into his chest, the sobs wracking through me violently, and he just holds me. Tight. Protective.

“Little siren,” he murmurs as his hand strokes through my hair. “Breathe.” His tone is steady and soothing, and I struggle to follow, inhaling in short bursts. “In and out,” he repeats. “In and out.”

I clutch at his shirt as he rubs slow circles on my back. “I’ve already taken care of everything.”

I pull back slightly, eyes wide, searching his face. “What do you mean? What did you do? ”

“I’ve had your vows restored. You won’t face any punishment.” His gaze locks onto mine. “I can’t fix things with Spencer...but he’ll pay for the way he treated you.” His jaw tightens, and there’s something dark in his eyes.

“How?” My voice wavers, my breath catching. “How did you do it?”

“Don’t worry about that. All you need to focus on is that you’re not in trouble.”

His hand rests on my neck, fingers trailing just enough to send comforting shivers down my spine. I should say something— should be able to say something—but for once, words fail me.

“Axe…” I manage, but he’s already leaning in, his lips barely grazing mine, his breath warm as he whispers, “You’re mine, baby.

Mine to protect, mine to love.” It’s not a declaration, it’s a statement, like gravity or the sky being blue.

His fingers slide into my hair, cradling the back of my neck in a way that leaves me more breathless than the kiss itself.

And damn him, my breathing actually slows. He has that effect, like pulling me out of the storm without even trying. His thumb traces my jaw, possessive but so tender it almost makes me forget everything.

“Let’s go home.” And before I can protest, his lips are on mine again, just enough to leave me wanting more, then he’s settling me back into the passenger seat like he didn’t just blow my mind.

I’m still reeling, my head spinning with a thousand unanswered questions.

Did he really do this?

He hands me my hamburger with a small smirk playing on his lips. He knows exactly how tangled I am inside.

“Eat,” he orders, that hint of sternness surfacing as the car starts moving again.

I take a bite, more to keep from saying something than because I’m actually hungry.

Between Spencer, the motorcycle crash, and this whole damn day, it’s a miracle I’m not passed out already. I drift in and out of sleep, lulled by the steady hum of the engine, until the car finally stops.

Axe leans over, unbuckling my seat belt, his arms wrapping around me. Warm, solid, safe .

“I can walk,” I murmur, even though I don’t mean it, burying my face against his chest.

“Shhh,” he hushes, his voice low and soothing. “Go back to sleep.”

And I almost do. His chest rises and falls, strong and steady, and I let myself melt into it. Somewhere in the haze, I hear the door open, feel him carrying me up the stairs. When he lays me down, the sheets smell different.

“Is this your bed?” I mumble, barely awake.

“Yes,” he says, fingers brushing over my cheek, and there’s something about the way he says it, like I belong here. With him.

He carefully peels off my shirt, slips my leggings down, and I snort through a sleepy smile. “Not gonna cut them off this time?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “No, not this time.” His voice is softer now, and the bed dips as he stands. “I’m going to take a shower. Rest, little siren.”

I hear him walk away, his footsteps fading, and the scent of his sheets pulls me under. For a moment, a fleeting moment, I let myself believe—maybe he really does love me.

And that thought is enough to let sleep finally win.