Page 26

I woke up satiated, body heavy with memories of the night before. A dull, persistent ache radiated between my thighs every time I shifted. Rolling to the other side, my heart plummeted at the empty space beside me. Then I spotted V's black shirt lying haphazardly where he should have been. My fingers clutched the material, bringing it to my face as I inhaled deeply. Smoke mixed with ash flooded my senses—V's unmistakable scent.

My mind tried convincing me I wasn't smelling the fumes of burning bodies. How twisted that I was starting to crave something so monstrous—starting to crave him .

What kind of girl looks at a monster and sees home?

Still clinging to his shirt, my eyes wandered down. Realizing I was naked, bashfulness swept through me like a cold wave. My gaze traced over my pale skin, lingering on the flurry of red marks scattered across my chest. Images of V's mouth—that dangerous, masked mouth—against my flesh flooded my mind. My stomach tightened as my thighs pressed together instinctively.

His scarred hands mapping my curves, his masked face between my thighs, the way he'd consumed me without mercy. My cheeks burned, but beneath the embarrassment bubbled something dangerous—happiness. It spilled from my throat in a small, startled giggle.

V had worshipped my body with a reverence I couldn't comprehend. I'd hated this shell since before I had words to express it. The stretch marks, the curves that appeared, the body that betrayed me monthly. Yet under his hands, I'd felt... beautiful. Not despite my flaws but because of them.

My eyes darted to the mirror as they did every morning—a ritual of self-torture. A new note was there. I practically leaped from the bed, muscles protesting in places I never knew could hurt. A small wince escaped me, the tender flesh between my thighs burning with each step.

I yanked V's shirt over my head as I rushed to the glass.

Spíti.

I tore it from the surface, clutching the sticky note to my chest. The notes gave me strength when I couldn't find it myself—when self-hatred threatened to drown me. It wasn’t a cure… but it was a nice reminder.

The clouds that had shadowed me for so long were slowly dispersing, as if V's presence burned them away like a dark sun rising. I caught my reflection and faltered, actually seeing myself rather than flinching away. V's shirt swallowed me whole, dwarfing my frame. My cheeks glowed with uncharacteristic color, and my eyes—usually dull with self-loathing—seemed alive in this light.

For the first time in my life, I felt beautiful. Not in the way magazines defined it, but in the way V saw me—as someone who couldn't be replaced.

Shaking stray hairs from my face, I straightened my spine and locked eyes with my reflection—a challenge I'd avoided. The last time I did, I had a panic attack in front of V. Victoria’s advice surfaced again as I took a deep breath, but fear didn’t overcome me this time.

"I like my hair." The words felt strange in my mouth as I pressed the new note alongside the others framing the mirror.

"I like my nails." Each affirmation is a small rebellion against years of self-hatred.

Stepping back to take in more of myself, I continued, "I like the way I look in V's clothes." His shirt hung to my knees, the dark fabric a stark contrast against my pale skin.

"I like the way V touches me." The confession made my pulse thunder beneath my ribs. My fingers unconsciously traced one of the marks he'd left—a claim, a brand.

"I like how my body feels today.” The discomfort is worth it, a price I'd willingly pay again to feel what I felt last night.

"I like..." My voice faltered as the magnitude of what I was about to admit crashed over me. "V."

Eight months ago, I couldn't breathe when V appeared—each glimpse of his mask sent panic flooding through me. Now I couldn't breathe when he was gone. His presence once meant danger; now it meant sanctuary. The hands I once feared would hurt me had become the only ones that made me feel real. My nightmare had become my necessity, and I didn't know how to make sense of the transformation.

Maybe I could learn to love the shadow that swallowed everything in its path except me.

V entered the bedroom shirtless, black jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned. The dark trail of hair disappearing beneath denim claimed my attention more than the steaming coffee cup in his hand. His eyes raked over me, lingering on his shirt draped over my frame.

"You're wearing my shirt." His voice rumbled through the room, rippling across my skin.

The fragile confidence I'd built shattered instantly. Shy, familiar insecurity rushed back like an old friend. "I-Is that okay?" I hated how small I sounded, how quickly I reverted to asking for approval.

V placed the coffee on the dresser. "Looks better on you."

My eyes dropped to the floor, a learned response to praise I couldn't accept. I tucked my hair behind my ear, my heart racing. One day, I told myself, I'd meet his gaze and simply say thank you. But that day wouldn’t be soon.

"T-Thank you for the note," I stammered, desperate to change the subject.

His obsidian gaze traveled down my body with such heat I swore I could feel it burning paths along my skin. My body recognized that look—predatory, hungry. My pulse quickened. If I didn't distract him, I'd end up back in that bed, beneath him, undone again.

"We, um. W-We broke the bed." Reluctantly, he shifted his attention to the damaged frame. "W-We need to get a new one."

"Headboard." The single word carried weight as he shrugged on his shirt, then his cut, before stalking back toward me. He crossed to my dresser without responding, pulling out a shirt that was clearly his.

"Hmm?" My gaze tracked his movements, unable to look away.

"We're getting a headboard."

"Why?" I ventured, immediately regretting asking.

He reached toward me, and I braced for his touch—half-feared, half-craved. Instead, he plucked a hairband from the table behind me. He hunched forward, gathering half his midnight hair into a bun at the crown of his head. I felt moisture gather on my bottom lip, my mouth going slack. God, was I actually drooling?

V straightened to his full imposing height, one eyebrow arched knowingly. “Next time you sit on my face, I’m going to treat it like my last meal—and I don’t plan on dying hungry.”

"Yes, sir." The words escaped before I could capture them. Both hands flew to my mouth in horror, but he just tilted his head, face scrunched. "I-I'll go get ready."

I scurried past him, careful not to brush against his body—even that slight contact might undo me. Yanking random clothing from my dresser, I fled to the bathroom, pressing my back against the closed door.

A smile tugged at my lips.

Happy.

The realization struck like lightning.

I was happy with V.

The thought should have terrified me, yet here I was, smiling because of him. What kind of person did that make me? What twisted logic had my mind embraced that made this feel like home?

We ended up getting a bigger bed—a queen this time, despite V wanting to get a twin size so we’d be forced to sleep against each other. We would pick it up later, but first, we had to head to the club.

Usually when I go to the club with V, I panic. This would be the first time we appeared together when I wasn't terrified or trying to get away from him.

"Someone's glowing," Tyrant teased with a grin. He was sitting at the bar with Victoria.

In the lounge area, Knight was sitting with Mitchell, who had Nyla sitting beside him. In the adjacent chair, Sarge sat with Joslyn on his lap, the two inseparable as usual.

"Oakley!" Joslyn jumped off Sarge's lap, the big man getting up and following her like a lost puppy. She threw her arms around me, embracing me in a tight squeeze. Something V didn't like. He stepped up, about to push her off of me, but Sarge got in his face.

"Watch yourself," Sarge hissed, putting his arm in front of Joslyn to block her from V. She just rolled her eyes at the two large men fighting over nothing.

"Calm down," Joslyn put her hand on Sarge's bicep. She was so small compared to him, just like I was to V. She stood on her tiptoes to look at me over her boyfriend's arm. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

My stomach churned, the feeling of guilt washing over me. When Nyla and Joslyn started spending all their time with Mitchell and Sarge, I had felt abandoned. Here I was doing the exact same thing. "Y-Yeah, sorry."

She wagged her eyebrows. "Is someone keeping you busy?"

Tyrant let out a shrill laugh from the bar. The common area of the club was large, but when it was silent, everything echoed for the whole room to hear. He got up and walked over to where the action was happening. Tyrant was drawn to the loud and rowdy, always having to be part of it in some capacity. I shifted closer to V, something that didn't go unnoticed by the men. They saw everything.

"Don't gotta be scared of me, Oak. I don't bite," he grinned, showing his teeth. "Much."

V moved so quickly I barely registered it, his bat connecting with Tyrant's kneecap with a sickening crack. Tyrant collapsed, screaming in pain.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Tyrant growled through the pain, his hand hovering over his shattered knee. "Forgot how hard you fucking hit."

Knight rushed to him, “You need to go to Hex?”

“Why? So he can break the other one? No thanks.” Tyrant tried to stand, but instantly fell back down. He looked to Knight. “You gonna help me?”

Knight rolled his eyes before helping him stand, walking over to the plush sitting area.

V's arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. His heart beat steadily, unaffected by what he’d just done.

"I always wondered why your name was Tyrant." Joslyn said when Tyrant got settled in his chair, "I mean Sarge's road name is obvious because of his military experience. But you? You're not a cruel man."

Tyrant's calm demeanor shifted, his ice blue eyes revealing a glimpse of why Joslyn was oh, so wrong. "You don't know the things I've done or can do to people."

Her eyebrows furrowed. “But you didn’t even try to attack V.”

Tyrant scoffed, “I don’t have a fucking death wish.”

V's pulled me tighter against his side. The others stood frozen, the room thick with shock and fear.

"He's a ruthless bastard, Jos. And even if he doesn’t act like it, he’s smart." Mitchell walked over to join us, arm wrapped around Nyla's shoulder. "Looks can be deceiving."

Tyrant spun to look at Joslyn with a grin. "Yeah, just look at who you're with. If I didn't know any better, I would think you're with a teddy bear."

Sarge growled as Tyrant laughed. Joslyn peered over at V with a slight twinkle in her eye, her eyebrows raised. "Why do they call you V?" Her question was innocent enough. She had asked months ago, but was ignored.

Mitchell started listing off with his fingers. "Violent. Vengeance?—"

"Virgin." Tyrant coughed into his fist to hide his laugh. Knight shoved him, but couldn't contain his laughter either.

"Not anymore." V's voice rumbled the words out. The pitcher of lemonade Victoria was carrying shattered. Tyrant and Knight's laughing ceased. Sarge, Joslyn, Nyla, and Mitchell all looked to V. Then me, then back to V.

I was silently praying there was a hole nearby I could crawl into and die.

"You fucked Oakley?" God, hearing him say it like that sounded awful. My face burned so hot I thought I might burst into flames. This was becoming excruciating, all those eyes watching us like we were some kind of sideshow attraction. As V's arm shifted protectively around me, I let my hair fall forward to shield my face, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

V stepped forward, shoulders squared, putting himself between me and their stares while my eyes remained firmly on the ground. Tyrant's laugh bellowed through the room. "Wait until Law hears about this."

Oh God. My parents. With all the things that have happened between me and V, I forgot that they would find out.

"P-Please don't tell them." The plea escaped before I could stop it.

My father's history with V was complicated. Even my mother, usually the peacekeeper who managed to stay neutral in club politics, grew quiet around V. The memory of their last visit replayed in my mind—the tension crackling in the air of my apartment as Dad sized up V, neither man willing to back down.

They'd never understand what he meant to me. How could they? They'd only ever known the version of me that begged to be saved. Not this new version of me who found peace in the arms of a man everyone could only see as a monster.

When I saw them again, we'd have to face this—their disapproval. But until then, I would protect what V and I were building. This fragile, twisted thing that felt more like home than anything I'd known before. Before they—especially my father—tried to ruin it.

"How was it?" Tyrant tried to keep a straight face as he spoke, but the bulging of the veins in his neck gave away how childish he was.

My face burned. Answering that question from my girlfriends would be difficult for me; this is impossible, and I don't want to. What I do with V is none of their business.

"I noticed you hobbling a bit." Victoria teased.

"Is it because he bought you that bakery?" My eyes flew to Joslyn, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"He bought you a bakery!" Their shouts in unison were unnecessarily loud and over the top.

“N-No!” I stuttered, leaning more into V. “I-I mean. Y-Yes, he bought me a bakery. But that’s not why…” Oh god, is this what everyone thinks? My fingertips traced the fabric of the shirt I wore, trying to ease my racing mind. My breaths hitched as small little lights danced in my vision. The attention in the room was aimed at us, and I couldn't handle it.

"So that's why you wanted the abandoned building on Melony," Mitchell grinned now. "Who knew you could be a romantic, V?"

I didn't think V was being romantic. His thought process was different than others, wanting to do things for me to make my life easier and getting me something I didn't want, but made it in a way that I couldn't help but accept.

"W-We're building it together." I don’t know why I needed to say that.

Tyrant grinned. "We'll help?—"

"No." V cut him off.

I placed my hand on his chest. "V only wants him and me to fix it up together."

"He did build Hellbound by himself," Mitchell shrugged. "He taught himself trades. The only thing we helped with was getting the…" He looked over at Nyla and Joslyn. "Basement setup."

I knew he meant the ovens. I didn't know if Nyla or Joslyn knew about them.

"So you know how to build and do electrical work on houses?"

He didn't answer Joslyn, but Tyrant did. "Yeah, he does. Self-taught."

"You didn't go to school?"

I don't think V would do well in school. I shivered at the one time he appeared in my class and almost killed my seatmate and my professor. It's why I do online classes now.

"School just teaches you to be obedient. You don't get the skills unless you go out and do the work." Knight shrugged.

Knight's eyes flicked toward Victoria for the third time. Each time she shifted even slightly closer to our group, his jaw tightened. He'd angle his body, creating a barrier without making it obvious to anyone who wasn't paying attention.

"Are you two together then?" Joslyn asked with heart eyes.

People were going to ask eventually—I knew that. I just didn’t expect it now , not while my brain was still stuck back on his mouth, his hands, his everything . What were we? Boyfriend and girlfriend?

God, no. That didn’t fit. That sounded normal . We weren’t normal. We weren’t...

Oh my god.

Maybe we are boyfriend and girlfriend.

I needed to sit down.

Finally being able to move, I looked up to V, his eyes locked onto everyone in the room, and not me for once.

"Yes." His voice rumbled the word as he stood tall. V hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend, but here he was telling everyone I was.

"For how long?" Tyrant now piped up.

"Eight months." V had told me how I had made his heart beat for the first time all those months ago, but I didn’t realize he thought we were together then.

"There's no way," Mitchell shook his head. "That was when I brought them in for questioning."

"I know."

Tyrant chuckled once more. "Only V would say he was with someone who didn't even know they were together."

Knight snorted. “Hope she’s in it for life. Because I don’t think he understands the word breakup.”

The words hung in the air, landing like weights on my shoulders. Everyone's eyes remained fixed on us—on me—their stares burning into my skin like brands. Each second of scrutiny stretched into eternity as my chest tightened, the air becoming thinner with each shallow breath.

Victoria's voice blurred into the rushing in my ears. Mitchell laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the room. Someone asked another question about us, our relationship, and things too private to share.

Too many voices. Too many eyes. Too many questions about things that were still raw and new between us.

I tried to focus on a fixed point across the room, but my vision blurred at the edges. The familiar whisper of anxiety—my constant companion for so many years—grew louder, drowning out everything else. My mouth went dry as I swallowed repeatedly, trying to push down the rising panic.

First came the tingling in my fingertips, then the slight tremor in my hands that I desperately tried to hide by clutching the hem of my shirt. My heartbeat accelerated, pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape. The room began to close in, the walls shrinking with each passing second as my lungs struggled to draw in enough air.

My vision narrowed to pinpricks, darkness bleeding in from the edges. The trembling spread from my fingers up my arms until my entire body was quivering like a leaf in a storm. Instinctively, I pressed closer to V's side, my fingers digging into the leather of his cut.

V noticed immediately—he always did. His body went rigid, jaw clenching so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around my waist, tucking me firmly against him as if trying to absorb me into his very skin.

"We're leaving." V’s voice cut through the room. Curling me underneath his strong arm before turning us toward the front doors.

Victoria took a step forward, hands raised placatingly. "Oakley, we didn't mean?—"

"Get out of our fucking way." V snarled, his tone brooking no argument.

The look he gave them could have frozen hell itself. Nobody dared speak as he marched me toward the exit, his body a shield between me and their prying eyes. Even Tyrant, usually quick with a retort, remained silent as V guided me through the door and into the night air.

The cool breeze against my feverish skin felt like salvation. V didn't slow his pace until we reached his bike, his grip on me never loosening. Only then did he turn to face me, those black eyes searching mine with an intensity that still stole my breath.

"Breathe," he commanded, one scarred hand coming up to cup my cheek.

I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath until it rushed out of me in a shuddering exhale. V nodded once, satisfied, before swinging his leg over the bike and extending his hand to me.

We rode in silence, the engine's vibration between my thighs and V's solid warmth against my chest grounding me in a way nothing else could. By the time we pulled up to my apartment, the panic had receded, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

I leaned against him as we climbed the stairs, my body drained from the emotional whiplash of the evening. V's arm remained firmly around my waist, supporting me without a word. The simple comfort of his presence—once so terrifying—now felt like the only thing keeping me upright.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as he unlocked my door, the words barely audible.

V's hand stilled on the doorknob. He turned to face me, those black eyes unreadable behind his mask.

"Y-You probably wanted to stay." I tucked my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I couldn't seem to break.

"I want what you need.” He shook his head once, the movement sharp and decisive. “Fuck everyone else."

The simple declaration sent warmth blooming in my chest. This was the paradox of V—a man who could shatter kneecaps without remorse, yet speak words that healed parts of me I hadn't known were broken.

Once inside, V insisted on setting up the new bed right away. I tried to help, but mostly just watched as he assembled the frame. The new headboard—sturdy iron bars that made my cheeks flush when I remembered his earlier comment about their purpose—took the longest to install.

By the time everything was in place and the mattress positioned just so, every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Moving furniture, emotional trauma, and the lingering soreness from the night before had left me utterly depleted. Not being able to move, I slumped on my couch. Having to move nearly all my furniture just to get the new bed in was tiring. V still had a spring in his step as he prepared my nighttime tea.

He moved through my living room, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark forearms exposed, midnight hair cascading loose around his shoulders. My fingers tingled with the urge to run through those silken strands again, but I was too tired to move.

V returned with my mug—the one with the ‘V’ engraved into it that he'd bought when we'd gotten supplies for the bakery. He hadn't asked if I wanted it; he just got it for me.

And it was my favorite mug now.

I blew away the rising steam before taking a cautious sip, a contented sigh escaping me despite myself. "You know just how I like it."

He didn't respond as he settled onto the couch, twisting his body to face me. He didn't just look at me—he devoured me with his gaze, like he wanted to unzip my skin and crawl inside just to feel closer.

"D-Did you want to watch a movie?"

His response came without hesitation. "No. I want to watch you."

My cheeks warmed, his answer so typical of him. He sat, turned toward me, black boot indenting the plush fabric of my pastel couch, elbow resting on his knee as his eyes memorized every detail of my face.

Like he always did.

"W-Why do you watch me like that?" I dared to ask, the words slipping out before I could reconsider.

Something shifted in his gaze—a darkness that sent a delicious shiver cascading down my spine. "Because you're the only thing worth looking at."

"What if I disappear one day?" I whispered.

"You won't." V's expression hardened, something feral flashing in his eyes. "I'd find you. No matter where you went."

I found myself leaning closer, drawn to the dangerous certainty of his devotion like a moth to a flame.

After a few sips, my mind felt sluggish, my limbs growing inexplicably heavy. This was different— like a weighted blanket pressing down on my consciousness.

My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Had the tea always tasted this... strange? Bitter notes lingered beneath the honey, something medicinal and wrong that hadn't been there before. V always made it exactly how I liked it.

The lamp light fractured into starbursts, the room tilting sideways as I tried to focus. My limbs turned to stone, each movement requiring strength I no longer possessed. Alarm bells rang distant and muffled in my mind, but my body refused to respond.

Through the thickening haze, I searched for V's eyes—those black, endless pools that never revealed anything. They watched me with that same unblinking intensity, giving nothing away as my consciousness began to slip.

"V...?" My tongue felt swollen, the word slurring as it left my lips.

The world tilted, the floor rushing up to meet me—but his hands caught me first, cradling me against his chest as darkness crept in from all sides. The black fabric of his clothes began to blur, melting into the encroaching shadows until I couldn't tell where he ended and the darkness began. My eyelids fluttered one final time, desperately fighting to stay open, to understand what was happening.

My world collapsed into absolute, terrifying black as consciousness slipped away completely.