Page 35 of Always A Villain (Revenge Duet #2)

I t’s pitch-black and reeks of must and mold. Something cold and damp presses into my back. I try to shake off the fog, but I’m weak, disoriented, every muscle a weight I can barely move. A rag’s stuffed in my mouth, tasting like salt and blood, and ropes bite into my wrists and ankles.

Where the hell am I?

My mind scrambles to piece together the last thing I remember—walking to the Range Rover, then...nothing. Just black.

Fuck.

How long have I been out? Hours? Days? A rush of panic hits me.

Footsteps. The scrape of a door, a slice of light that barely cuts through the dark. I squint, straining to make sense of the shadows, but all I can see are walls trapping me in .

“Hello, Victoria.”

An Italian-accented voice. Calm, mocking. Ice floods my veins as dread crawls up my throat.

No. No, it can’t be him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, and now that it’s here...” He lets out a slow sigh. “I have to say, it’s not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be.”

A flickering yellow light floods the room. My eyes adjust, and when I finally see his face, the world tilts. Dark black hair, cold dark eyes, a smug smile twisting his mouth. His face is older but unmistakable.

I freeze, every muscle locked tight as he stares down at me.

“On the floor, drugged. I expected better for our reunion,” he says with a slow shake of his head.

I try to scream, but the gag silences me.

“You’ve been a real nuisance, you know that, Victoria? Your mother’s foolish actions had consequences. And now...you’ll be the one paying the price.”

Tears blur my vision as he kneels, his cold eyes never leaving mine. He reaches out, fingers grazing my cheek. His touch is a sickly caress that turns my stomach.

“You’ve grown,” he murmurs, eyes raking over me with sick approval.

“Not sure what I expected, but...I’m not disappointed.

Your mother was beautiful, and you...” he trails off, fingers brushing the hair from my face, sliding down my neck.

“Last time I saw you, you were just a screaming little girl. So much has changed.”

He keeps his cold hand there, his thumb pressing against my throat .

I can’t breathe, can’t move, trapped under his gaze, his touch.

He’s here— he’s really here —and he’s touching me.

“Shame Marco couldn't be here to see this, but he's long gone,” he sneers, his smirk stretching into something devious. I wrench at the gag, managing to shove it loose until it falls from my mouth.

“You,” I spit, my throat burning.

“Me,” he mocks.

“You killed my mother!”

He laughs—a low, daunting sound that chills the blood. “Is that what you think? Oh, Victoria. That’s not even the half of it.”

“Why?” My voice cracks as I push back, wrists straining painfully against the ropes. “Why did you do it?”

He shrugs, dismissive. “I didn’t kill your mother. She was already dead by the time we got there.”

“No. No!” Tears spill down my cheeks as I tremble.

“Your mother was a fool. Marrying Conrad was her fatal mistake. I told Marco to end things with her, warned him...but he was always the sentimental type.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I'm your uncle, Antonio DeLuca.” His tone is matter-of-fact, as if this news means nothing.

My head swims, nausea rising inside my throat. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you belong to the Dolore now. The man you call Father, Conrad, is not your father. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now, you’re right where you should be.”

“No!” I thrash against the ropes, screaming until my voice grows hoarse. “Liar! You’re a fucking liar!” Anger floods me, heating my blood. “You killed my mother! I remember everything.”

“Your mother made a mistake. A mistake that cost her everything, including her life.” He sneers. “Conrad—he’s the one who killed her, not us.”

“You’re lying!” I choke on my fury, the memory searing. “I remember you. You were there that night! My father wouldn’t have killed her!”

He reaches out, touching my cheek again. I recoil, vomit rising to the back of my throat.

“Victoria, you’re my blood. But you’re an idiot if you think Conrad Valentine is truly your father.

” His gaze hardens, and he leans in, voice dropping to a hiss.

“My brother, Marco, was a foolish man. He let his emotions cloud his judgment. He should have ended things with your mother long ago. He had an empire to run—not waste time on a worthless woman and the child she chose to hide.”

“You’re lying,” I whisper, but the twisted pieces start to fall into place. All the painful years of my father’s coldness, rejection, the way he sent me away like something he could barely tolerate, it’s all starting to make sense.

“Believe what you want, but the truth is, I’m the only family you have left. You belong with the Dolore.”

“Go to hell,” I shoot back, trying to wriggle free from his grip.

“I’ll let the drugs wear off, then we’re going to have a nice, long chat,” he replies, standing up. The door swings open, and my stomach drops as more men strut in. One of them is Creed. My blood boils at the sight of him—memories flooding my mind.

“I need to check her for a tracker. The psycho probably placed one on her,” Creed grits out.

“Fuck you,” I snarl, glaring him down.

“Strip her down,” Antonio commands.

Creed kneels beside me, his hands ripping at my clothes. A predatory grin stretches across his face. I kick at him, but he easily overpowers me, his hands rough against my skin. My scream claws its way out of my throat.

“Enough,” Antonio snaps, and Creed reluctantly pulls back, rising to his feet. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He draws a gun and aims it at my head. “Stand up.”

I don’t budge.

“I said, stand up.”

I try to roll onto my side, but my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. “I can’t,” I croak.

He gestures to Creed, who retrieves a knife from his belt and seizes my shoulder, dragging me across the floor. Pain radiates through me as he yanks me to my feet and then cuts the ties of my wrists and ankles.

“Now, be a good girl and cooperate.” The chill of the room wraps around my naked body.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, and his eyes trail over me. There’s a sickening hunger in his gaze as his hand slides down to my ass.

“Get the hell off me.” I shove him away with all the force I can muster. He just laughs, his grip returning.

“Damn, you’ve got some nice tits,” he jeers, his breath hot and vile against my ear.

“Axe is going to fucking kill you. ”

He presses the knife against my neck, brushing aside my hair.

“I’d love to see him try,” he taunts.

“Stop fucking around and search her,” Antonio barks, impatience seeping into his voice. Creed pulls me against him, his hands exploring my body. I fight the urge to slam my head back into his stupid face.

“Look at these pretty marks.” His fingers dig into my throat as he traces Axe’s bite marks and hickeys. He leans in, breathing hot against my ear. “A little slut like you probably likes it rough, huh? What else are you into, love?”

His fingers slip between my thighs, and I jerk away, but he holds me tightly. His thumb brushes against my pussy, and I can feel the smirk twisting his lips.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I snap, rage surging within me.

“How else am I supposed to check if he planted a tracker in that pretty tight cunt of yours?”

“Creed.” Antonio’s warning is sharp.

Creed huffs, sounding almost disappointed as he steps back. “She’s clean.”

“Get her dressed. Wheels up in thirty,” Antonio orders, his tone as icy as the air in the room.

I lock eyes with him, forcing defiance into my voice, despite the tremor. “You’re all fucking dead. Axe will find me, and he’ll kill every single one of you.”

Antonio’s expression barely shifts. “You don’t understand, Victoria.

This was always the plan. Conrad owed you to me.

” His words are filled with certainty, as if he’s stating simple facts.

“Your place is with the Dolore, and you will serve the Family. You will marry who I’ve chosen, continue the DeLuca bloodline, and ensure the Dolore’s survival. ”

I clench my fists, fighting the bile rising in my throat.

He keeps talking, voice chillingly calm. “My brother—your real father—became weak. His death was a necessary sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

“There are always sacrifices, Victoria. Marco didn't understand that. And his failure is now yours to bear. You will not fail, and you will not disappoint me. Marco grew weak. He lost his edge, let softness creep in where it had no place. The Dolore needed a leader who wouldn’t falter, someone who understood what it took to keep us alive. They turned to me for answers.”

He takes a slow pause, his expression as hard as stone.

“I couldn’t kill my own brother. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t find someone who would.

” His voice tightens, low and dangerous.

“Conrad found a candidate. The perfect man for the job—no conscience, no fear, nothing that would make him think twice. A man without a soul. Someone who could pierce Marco’s defenses, bring him down, and vanish without a trace. ”

“Axel,” I breathe.

Antonio gives the faintest nod. “Him demanding you as his ‘wife’ for payment was…unexpected, but irrelevant. You are the future of the Dolore, my blood, my niece. And you will do as you’re told.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will,” he says, as if there’s no possible outcome but obedience. “Now get dressed.” He strides out, leaving me alone with Creed.

Creed’s hands are back on me immediately, rough and groping.

I wrench one arm free and land a punch square on his nose.

Blood splatters, and for one satisfying second, shock flashes across his face.

But then he’s on me, slamming me against the wall with a force that makes my head spin, my vision blurring.

His fist meets my face, sending a hot, metallic taste to my mouth as I hit the floor, dazed.