Page 6 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

FIVE

NIKO

The call was unexpected.

Her name lit up my screen.

No text. No warning.

She didn’t say much, just my name, shaky and broken, like she was barely holding herself together, and I didn’t even hesitate.

Hell, I didn’t even ask what happened.

I was in my car, running red lights on the way out of the city, praying I wasn’t too late.

The gates to the estate are wide open when I get there.

So is the driver’s side door of the car.

Vi is on the ground, slumped in the gravel, shaking so hard I can hear her teeth chatter.

There’s blood on her hands, and a few feet away, there’s a body.

Her eyes lock on mine as I step out of the car.

“I think I killed him,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, almost childlike. “I didn’t mean to. He was trying to take me, and I… I found the gun and - I killed him, Niko. Oh my God, I killed him.”

I walk past her without a word and kneel quickly to examine the body. Two shots to the chest. Already cold.

I pull out my gun, press it to his forehead, and pull the trigger without blinking.

Bang .

I turn back around to find her staring at his lifeless body.

“Look at me.” I say, searching her face.

She does, flinching like she expects to see judgment in my face.

“I killed him.” I say softly. “Not you.”

She stares at me like I just rewrote the rules of the world.

“I did it.” I repeat. “Not you. Me.”

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Her lips tremble, and her fingers twitch like they don’t know whether to reach for me or to cover her face. So I make the choice for her.

I step forward slowly, crouch in front of her in the mud, and pick the gun up from where it’s half-buried next to her.

Then, I carefully reach out and wipe the blood from her hands with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“Come on,” I say gently, not quite touching her. “We can’t stay here.”

She doesn’t argue. She just nods. Silent and small.

I get her in the passenger seat.

She shakes so hard it looks like her bones might snap in half. I crank the heat and grab a towel from the trunk, an old scratchy one I normally use to wipe down my windows.

She doesn’t complain when I wrap it around her shoulders. She doesn’t flinch when I buckle her seatbelt for her. She just watches me with those wide green eyes as I slip into the driver’s seat.

She stares out the window the entire drive. She doesn’t ask where we’re going. She probably thinks I’m taking her back to the safe house to meet up with Rome and Dallas. I’m not.

I’m taking her to our penthouse. She’ll be at peace there. Less questions. Fewer eyes.

She finally speaks when we’re halfway down the winding back road that leads to our apartment building.

“I really didn’t want him to die, you know,” she whispers.

I don’t look at her.

“I know.” I say. “But, I did.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

Then she asks, “Why?”

My hands tighten on the wheel.

Because my hands are already stained.

Because yours shouldn’t have to be.

Because if he wasn’t dead already, I would’ve killed him for touching you.

“It’s my job.” I say simply.

She doesn’t ask where we are when I pull into the underground garage and doesn’t blink when I enter the code that opens the steel security gate. She just stares down at her hands, like she’s trying to forget they ever held a gun.

The engine cuts and the silence swells.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” I say. “You can sleep. Shower. Burn your clothes, if you want.”

She finally looks at me. “Where are we?”

“Our place.”

Her brow creases. “Wait, your… actual home?”

I nod once.

She stares. “I didn’t know you guys had a home.”

I fight a smile.

“Not like that, I just thought with work…” she trails off. “You live here?”

“Sometimes.”

She swallows. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Because no one else gets this. Because I don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me. Because you’re shaking like you might come apart, and for some reason, I can’t fucking stand the idea of anyone else putting you back together.

“It’s safe.” I say.

That’s all I give her, but it’s the truth.

It’s the only place in the world I trust. My sanctuary. And now… I’m letting her in it.

The elevator opens into a quiet hallway. Minimalist. Clean. My door is on the right. With no number to identify it, just a biometric scanner.

She doesn’t say anything as I press my thumb to the reader.

When the door clicks open, I see her hesitate. Maybe because she’s nervous. Maybe because she knows, intuitively, that this is something I don’t share and yet, here I am, sharing it with her.

She steps inside and looks around.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. Concrete walls. Matte finishes. Everything sharp, cold, and calculated - everything except for her.

She stands there dripping in the middle of it all, towel still wrapped around her shoulders, her wet clothes clinging to her frame, and for a second the whole place feels warmer. Like maybe bringing her here was as much for me as it was for her .

She stands there, still trembling, as the silence folds in around us. Then finally she speaks.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” The words are quiet. Raw. “I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do, and I just… I’m sorry.”

I step closer and rest my hands on her shoulders. “Don’t apologize.”

Her arms cross over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I shot someone, Niko.”

“You defended yourself.”

Her voice cracks. “That doesn’t make it better.”

I shake my head. “But it’s the truth.”

She looks at me.

“He’s dead because of me,” she whispers. “I know he was trying to hurt me, but I… I didn’t want to be that person.”

She lets out a breath that sounds more like a sob. “But I am now, aren’t I? I’m a killer. A monster.”

That word lingers in the air between us, and something in me shifts. I don’t know how to fix this, but I need to do something for her.

I step forward and reach for her hands.

She doesn’t pull away.

“You’re not a monster,” I say, low and steady. “I’ve worked for monsters. You’re not even close.”

Her eyes flick up, glassy and wide.

“If you were truly like them…” I say, my voice steady. “I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

She flinches, but there’s no fear in her eyes, just understanding .

“That guilt you’re feeling right now?” I murmur. “Monsters don’t feel that. So if anyone’s the monster here, it’s me.”

She shakes her head and swallows. “That’s not-”

“Vi, you pulled the trigger to save yourself. I pulled it to punish him. I’m the one with blood on my hands and honestly, I’d stain mine again and again if it meant you didn’t have to.”

She crumples into me, arms locking around my waist, her whole body trembling against mine as she sobs into my chest like a wave of emotions is crashing over her.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tighter than I’ve ever held anything in my life.

No words. Just the quiet sound of her falling apart in a space no one else is allowed to enter.

My place. My arms. My heart.

And I don’t let go. Not when the shaking stops. Not when she whispers, “Thank you.” Not even when her breathing calms and her grip loosens.

Because letting go isn’t in my nature anymore.

Not when it comes to her.