Page 16 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

FIFTEEN

ROME

Violet is fading again.

Not dramatically. There’s no slammed doors or screaming matches.

It’s happening slowly and quietly, like she’s trying to make herself disappear without any of us noticing.

But I notice, and I can’t fucking stand to see it.

I tell myself to ignore it, that it isn’t my problem or my place to care.

She’s been through hell, and I’m not entitled to her attention or her warmth. But I do care, and I feel everything. The shift, the silence, the absence.

She used to love working in the kitchen. She’d be in there cooking every night and every morning, like clockwork. Always trying new recipes. Sometimes with ingredients I’ve never even heard of, and always begging us to taste-test her creations .

She even got Niko, the man who treats enjoyment like it’s a personal threat, to come to the table.

The food was always good, but it wasn’t about that.

It was the way she’d watch us nervously as we took our first bite and the way her eyes would light up when she’d see our reactions.

That was the part that got me.

The excitement, the spark, like, for just a second, she stopped worrying about everything else going on and could just be happy.

No fear of an imminent threat. No drowning in all the shit in her head. Just pure, unadulterated joy.

And now?

The kitchen’s been quiet for days. No sizzling pans. No k-pop music blasting. No Violet. And it’s not just me she’s hiding from. She barely talks to Dallas and Niko. And poor Ollie has been camped outside her bedroom nearly every night.

She’s not just shutting me out. She’s shutting all of us out.

She skips meals. Spends most of the day in her room with the door closed. She only comes out to eat, and even then, she never lingers in our shared spaces. She doesn’t tease us. Doesn’t ask questions. She just… disappears.

And I hate that it irks me.

I tell myself it’s for logistical reasons. That it’s easier to monitor her when she’s visible and easier to keep her safe when she’s predictable. But deep down, I know that’s bullshit.

I miss her.

Not the version of her we rescued, the one who flinched when we came near her. I miss the girl who started fighting her way back .

The one who asked Niko if he poisoned her cereal with that ridiculous deadpan expression.

The one who laughed under her breath when Dallas tripped over Ollie and tried to play it cool.

The one who kissed my cheek like it meant nothing and ruined me for the rest of the week.

I miss that Violet, and I don’t know how the hell we lost her.

It’s been three days.

Three days of icy silence and half-glances.

Three days of her shrinking away every time we step into a room.

Three days of trying not to care.

Of failing.

And today?

Today I snap.

She’s on the balcony when I find her. With her head down, headphones on, and her face deep in one of her books.

I step out to join her. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge me at all. Just keeps staring at the words on the page like they’re the most interesting fucking thing in the world.

I grind my jaw and speak.

“Get up. You’re coming with me.”

That gets her attention.

She pauses, but still keeps her head down. “Where?”

“Out.”

“We’re not supposed to leave.”

“I’m aware.”

She finally looks up. Her expression is flat, unreadable.

“Then why are you -”

“I’m not asking.”

I jerk my head toward the front door. “Let’s go. ”

“Rome -”

“Move.”

It comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back.

She stares at me like I’ve grown another head. Like she’s waiting for me to backpedal and tell her this is all some kind of joke.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she says, voice low.

“Good thing you don’t have a choice.” I say, cocking my brow. “You’ve got ten seconds before I throw you over my shoulder.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

She crosses her arms, still not moving. “You’re not my boss.”

“No,” I say, stepping around her. “But I am the one driving. So unless you want to be dragged to the car barefoot, I suggest you grab some fucking shoes.”

She lets out a sharp breath. “Fine. But if I end up dead in a ditch somewhere, I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”

Then she storms off to grab her sneakers from the coat closet.

Five minutes later, she’s in my passenger seat. Legs crossed, arms folded, and her hoodie zipped to her chin.

She doesn’t look at me as I start the car. She doesn’t speak to me at all. But she came, and she hasn’t cursed me out yet.

So, I’ll consider that progress.

For now.