Page 95 of Always A Villain

The only person in this godforsaken world I’d ever spare.

I love her more than my own goddamn life.

My fist slams into the wall, cracks spidering across the tile. But I don’t stop. I hit it again. And again. The pain is nothing. Not compared to the torture of not knowing where she is.

They don’t know what they’ve unleashed.

I’ll make their worst nightmares look like fairy tales.

I’m worse than the devil himself?—

Conrad and every motherfucker involved will face my wrath.

I dressquickly, fire coursing through my veins, and head downstairs to grab my keys. I load Kane into the car, strapping the Kevlar vest snug against him, protecting his shoulder wound—he’s ready for blood.

Cranking the car to life, I peel out of the driveway, tires screaming against asphalt.

The warehouse looms in the distance. Maybe it holds a clue—a lead—anything that can direct me to her. Every turn of the wheel fuels my urgency, my rage boiling over as I grip the steering wheel like it’s the last thing tethering me to sanity.

Griffen’s call slices through the chaos, jolting me back into reality.

“What?”

“Isaac’s calling all Generals and Lieutenants for an emergency meeting.”

I don’t bother with a reply.

The call cuts as I’m already pulling up to the warehouse, throwing the car into park and stepping out. Kane bounds beside me, nose to the ground. The air hangs stale around the abandoned lot. Each step echoes in the hollow space as we push inside.

I prowl through the darkness, scanning every corner, every damn inch for a sign—anything. But it’s just me, Kane, and the suffocating silence. My phone vibrates again in my pocket—I ignore it.

“Fuck!” The shout ricochets off the walls as I kick a chair across the floor.

Kane’s bark gets my attention. I turn, finding him at the entrance of a darkened room. His nose presses into a pile ofclothes crumpled in the corner, and my blood goes cold.

She was here.

I step forward, hand shaking as I reach for the sweatshirt laying crumpled on the floor. It’s mine—she was wearing it. I bring it to my face, breathing her in, the faintest trace of her scent stabbing through me.

My knees hit the ground.

Eyes squeezed shut, I clutch her clothes against my chest, helplessness consuming me.

“Rory,” I rasp, voice barely holding.

Dried blood speckles the floor, leading toward the exit—a trail of dark-red dots that ends cold in the parking lot. Kane whines, his nose nudging my leg as I trace my hand over the faint marks.

She was here—so close—so fucking close.

“Where are you, baby?” The words scrape like glass out of my throat.

I force myself to stand, my body thrumming with nowhere to go. The fucking uselessness of sitting here while she’s out there, it eats me alive.

I sink back into the driver’s seat, staring blankly at the lot stretching out in front of me. I feel it—a clawing, grinding kind of desperation, worse than rage, worse than fear.

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT!” I slam my fist into the steering wheel. My phone buzzes again, screen flashing with missed calls, texts—none of it fucking matters. I crank the ignition and tear down the road to the Iron.

My allegiance to the Sovereign has been absolute, untouchable, for as long as I can remember.