Page 38 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

THIRTY-SEVEN

VIOLET

The second I step through the warehouse doors, I know I’m being watched.

It’s in the air.

The weight of it.

The silence that isn’t really silence. It’s the kind that rings in your ears and dares you to move.

The door slams shut behind me. Hard.

I don’t flinch, but my fingers twitch at my sides.

The air is thick with dust and the metallic stench of rusting steel. Moonlight filters through cracks in the roof, casting silver lines across the concrete floor like the whole building’s been cut open.

Every step echoes.

Louder than the last.

My sneakers scuff against the floor as I move deeper, past abandoned machinery and skeletal rafters looming like predators overhead. The only sound is the steady, pounding rhythm in my chest .

I keep walking.

Even when it feels like something’s crawling up the back of my neck.

Even when I swear I hear a breath that isn’t mine.

Then I see it.

A single beam of light. Artificial, deliberate and cutting through the dark like a spotlight.

Standing dead center in its path… is him .

Looking like he’s been waiting centuries.

His hands are in his pockets. His head tilted slightly. His smile-

God.

That smile always made my skin crawl.

It still does.

“My perfect girl,” he croons, voice low and syrupy. “You came.”

He steps forward once. “How brave of you.” Another step. “How stupid of you.”

His eyes trail down my frame, over my blank expression, past my oversized sweatsuit, and down to the sneakers on my feet.

His smile widens like I’ve just proven some sick theory right.

“Come here,” he says, holding out a hand like I might actually take it.

I don’t move.

He sighs as if I’ve disappointed him. “Always so difficult.”

Then he closes the space himself.

Each step is slow and measured. The way someone might approach a deer in the wild.

He stops inches in front of me.

And then -

He leans in and licks me, from the curve of my jaw to the temple of my forehead.

I don’t react, not on the outside.

But inside?

Everything screams.

I reach for the gun in my waistband, fingers wrapping tight around the grip as I raise it between us.

His hand snaps out, catches my wrist, squeezes hard enough to make my bones grind.

He looks down, expression amused, curious even, until his eyes land on the tattoo peeking out of the top of my sweatpants.

It’s the celestial moth I got with Niko, the one that erased his ugly mark for good.

His smile drops.

He pries the gun from my hand and shoves me to the ground as his expression twists into something feral.

“You think this makes you strong?” he sneers, voice sharp now as he raises my gun in the air. “You think covering my claim on you will change anything?”

I stare at him and say nothing.

He paces once in a tight circle, one hand dragging through his thinning blonde hair as he glares at me like I’ve offended him on a cosmic level.

“You are mine!” He snaps. “I’m the only one who’s ever really seen you. The only one who’s ever cared. And this, this is how you repay me?”

I laugh at his outburst.

It bubbles up from somewhere deep, sounding hysterical and borderline unhinged.

He startles, and his mouth parts like he doesn’t know what to make of it. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I tilt my head, and level him with a vicious glare. “I was just laughing at the irony.”

“Of what?” He hisses.

I chance a glance over my shoulder. “Of them.”

His eyes narrow as he searches the darkness.

Then they step out of the shadows.

Stevie, Dallas, Rome, Niko, Atlas, Ezra, Tristan, and Cyrus are all here. Ollie is too, crouched low with his hackles raised like he’s waiting for the command.

All of their guns are raised.

All of their expressions are fierce.

All of their eyes are laser-focused on him.

My monster freezes and, in that moment, I see him for who he truly is… a pathetic, desperate, little man.

He fumbles for the gun in his hand, Rome’s gun , and spins it toward me with his finger on the trigger.

Click.

Nothing happens.

There aren’t any bullets in the chamber. I made sure of that on the drive over.

He pulls the trigger again, and again, staring at the gun in his hand like it’s betrayed him.

His eyes snap to me, and they widen in disbelief.

I smile as I settle in line with everyone I’ve ever cared about.

“You’re so fucked.”