Page 32 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

She wasn’t braced enough for this; she was too tired, and too close to that fade-out today to handle it.

Nick was silent. His long fingers smoothed the grass in front of them. Joan could feel herself tensing in anticipation of

what he was going to say. Then he whispered, “I miss you.”

Joan heard her own sharp intake of breath. She’d expected I hate you . She’d said that to him once—after he’d killed her family. I know , he’d said.

No, not him. Another version of him. Sometimes, all the versions of him merged in her head.

“I miss talking to you,” Nick said.

“I miss you too,” she said honestly. She missed being with him. She missed him all the time. Every moment of the day. There was a hollow inside her where he’d once been.

The missing wasn’t the problem, though. I made him into a slayer because you loved him and he loved you , Eleanor had said. Because if he killed the people you loved most, you’d never trust him again. Because when he fought back, he’d see you for

the monster you are. He’d never trust you . And it worked, didn’t it? You’ll never feel the same about each other again.

Nick picked at the grass between them, his head down. “I was so angry,” he said softly, “when Eleanor showed us what happened at Holland House.”

Joan swallowed. He’d seen Joan kiss his previous self. The Nick she’d first fallen in love with. She could still remember

the heat of his mouth against hers. She’d told him that she loved him, and then she’d unmade him. She’d killed the boy who’d

been a monster slayer. And this Nick had been reborn in his place.

And Eleanor had shown Nick all of it. The kiss. The betrayal.

Joan shut her eyes, trying to fend off the memory of it. His dawning horror as he’d watched. “I’m so sorry,” she said. The

words felt inadequate. “Nick, I’m—”

“ Don’t— ” Nick said, so harshly that Joan flinched. He paused then. When he spoke again, it was softer. “Don’t apologize. Please.”

Joan tried to make out his expression in the dark. What did he want from her if not an apology?

“Why didn’t you tell me that I’d killed your family?” he said hoarsely. “You let me think that you killed the hero just to remove him from the board. You didn’t tell me that I’d murdered the Hunts first. That you’d killed me to bring them back.”

Tears stung Joan’s eyes. She blinked them back, clasping her hands tight in her lap. “ You didn’t kill my family.” This Nick had never hurt her at all.

“A version of me did. And he did it to you . Your family. You remember them dying.”

Joan could taste the tears at the back of her throat. She really didn’t want to talk about this. “ You didn’t do that,” she said again. “You’re not him.”

“But I am . I’m him in different circumstances. Isn’t that what we keep saying?” He plucked a blade of grass, fingers restless. “I’m

sorry. I’m so sorry. I keep thinking about what I said to you in the carriage afterward. I knew why Eleanor had shown us that scene. She

wanted to manipulate me. To hurt you. I knew what she was doing. I should have asked you what had really happened, but I pushed you away instead. I think that’s when

I lost you.”

What was he talking about? “I lost you ,” Joan whispered. “I let you believe that monsters were benign, when they were actually stealing human life. I could have

told you the truth, and I didn’t. And then I asked an Argent to control your mind.” It hadn’t even worked. Nick had broken

the compulsion. But she’d tried. “I violated your mind. I lost you !”

Nick tilted his head, the dark strands of his hair falling over his face. “You were afraid of me. Eleanor said that I killed

your family. That you were there when it happened. That you had to run for your life.”

Joan was there again suddenly. The thick butcher-shop smell of blood was in the air. Gran groaned, agonized as she died under Joan’s hands. Joan squeezed her eyes shut, but she could see the bodies littered in the gardens. She could smell the sickly scent of crushed hydrangeas as she’d run.

Sometimes, she felt like it was all still happening—like she was still stanching the wound in Gran’s chest; still fleeing

through the maze. That she had never left that maze. But it had happened two timelines ago. Two lifetimes ago. And Joan was

the only one who remembered it. She breathed in now, concentrating on the smell of wet grass. “He came to me seeking peace

at the end.”

Nick gave her a long look. He knew she’d avoided what he’d said. “You told me he was a hero.”

Joan remembered that conversation. Not just a hero , she’d explained to him.

You were the hero . Like King Arthur . People told stories about you.

Made art depicting you. “He wasn’t so different from the gladiator version of you in this timeline.

They both fought predators and protected the weak.

” She hesitated. All the Nicks had had the same aura of goodness.

Wherever he was, she always felt herself turning toward him, like he was true north. “You said before that you lost me, but

I know when I lost you properly. You chose to save me instead of the rest of the world, and I know you regret it.”

“Is that what you think?” Nick said.

“You went against everything you believe in. And now you can’t stand it. Now that you’ve seen this world.”

He huffed a laugh as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You know... sometimes, I catch you looking at me, and it’s like.

..” He shook his head. “Like you’re comparing yourself to me and finding yourself wanting.

Like you’re ashamed of what you are. But I don’t see myself like that. I don’t see you like that.”

“Nick, I’ve seen how you avoid me now. Eleanor gave you a choice—me or the world—and you chose me. I know you hate what you did.” And, by

extension, he had to hate her too.

“No,” he said flatly. The word was like a solid wall. Joan felt as if she’d run into it. “If Eleanor gave me that choice again,

I’d choose you again. Every time.” His dark eyes were certain, and he sounded unmovable. As if the statement had a foundation

that extended for miles. “You know what I hate?” he said. “I hate that my other self hurt you. I hate that Eleanor used me

to hurt you again . And—you’re right—I hate that I made this world. But I don’t hate you. I never could. I’ve loved you from the moment I first

saw you.”

Joan shook her head. She wanted to believe it too badly for it to be true.

“You told me once that my feelings for you were just a remnant of another timeline,” Nick said. “An echo. Something that someone

else once felt. But you’re wrong. My feelings don’t belong to anyone else. They’re mine. For you . I would always choose you.”

“Nick...”

“You should hate me ,” he said softly. “I killed your family. I made you run. I hurt you so much. Over and over. I’m sure there are things that

I did—ways that I hurt you—that you’re not telling me even now.”

Tears welled in Joan’s eyes again, and this time she felt them fall. “I love you. I never stopped.” She drew a shaky breath. “I’ll love you until I die,” she said to him honestly.

Nick reached for her cheek to thumb away the tears with one hand, and then he was kneeling up and shifting closer, an arm

around her waist drawing her in. Joan’s heart stuttered. He was going to kiss her.

Behind them, the dry snap of a leaf made her jump. She pulled away, startled.

Aaron stood above them on the slope, moonlight silver in his hair. Joan could tell from his expression that he’d heard at

least some of their conversation; that he’d seen the almost kiss. The cool air, so welcome earlier, felt suddenly, painfully

biting.

“Jamie wants you to come back inside,” Aaron said. “He’s figured something out.”

“Aaron—” Joan started, but he was already turning away. A wave of misery hit her out of nowhere, startling her almost as much

as Aaron’s unexpected appearance. Her chest seized painfully, as if her heart had cracked right at the center. She wanted

to go after him. She wanted to pull Nick closer. She felt... She didn’t know how she felt.

Beside her, she heard Nick get to his feet. She lifted her gaze to him and saw that he was watching Aaron with an expression

she couldn’t quite read.

Joan’s chest seized again as she walked back to the house. Her feelings were a tangled mess. Her heart was still thundering

from the almost kiss. And yet... she felt so strange and unsettled.

Nick was quiet beside her. He’d surely registered the odd moment with Aaron on the hill, but he didn’t probe her about it. Joan didn’t know what she’d have said if he had.

His hand brushed against hers comfortingly. Joan wanted to lean into him. At the same time, she knew she had to keep a clear

head. With luck, they’d find Eleanor soon. But the last time they’d confronted her, she’d defeated them.

Even if they won this time... Joan and Nick had nearly kissed tonight, but neither of them had made any promises about

what would happen after they’d stopped Eleanor. For all Nick had said I’d choose you , Joan knew his heart. He wouldn’t stand by if humans continued to be consumed as prey. He might side with Joan, but not with

monsters—and Joan was still half-monster, with people she loved on both sides.

Where did that leave them? Where could they go from there?

The front door opened as they reached it, and a man in black stared them down. One of the Oliver security personnel. He tilted

his head at Joan, and Nick twitched.

Joan gripped Nick’s wrist warningly. This wasn’t the time to test Aaron’s control over his household. “Lord Oliver wants us

upstairs,” she said to the man.

The man’s sneer turned into a snarl, but he shifted aside to let them pass.