Page 65 of The Villain

His eyebrows climbed. “You wanna hear them?”

“Oh fuck off. You know I do.”

He leaned back on the bed with his hands braced behind him. “I think this is going to cause a total shitstorm.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked away for a moment. Then he squinted at me. “Devlin fucking Walsh? Really?”

I threw up my hands. “You think I wanted this?”

Rhys’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before he responded. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“I’ll never like him.”

“I don’t always like him either,” I snorted. “He’s a huge fucking pain in the ass. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving him up. Ever.”

He sighed. “All right. We’ll deal with the fallout. Like we always do.”

We.

Devlin was my problem, my decision, but Rhys was always ready to go into battle with me. My chest felt tight, and I rubbed at it with my palm. “Rhys.” He met my gaze, and my throat clogged. “I don’t deserve you.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I can’t say something nice?”

He stood from the bed with a shrug. Rhys was only a few inches shorter than me. We could probably pass as brothers more easily than Jace and I could. “You act like you don’t ever do anything for me.”

“I’m not sure I have lately.”

“You being distracted for a while doesn’t cancel out thirty-four years of having my back, dumbass. I’m not keeping score. This is what we do.”

“This is what we do,” I echoed.

He pushed on my shoulder. “Go away. I’m tired of all this sappy shit, and you have a devil to feed.”

I grabbed the plates of food and headed for the door. “For what it’s worth,” I called over my shoulder, pausing with my hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Devlin sooner. I didn’t really knowwhatwas happening until it just… happened.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a knowing smile. “I saw it coming way before you did. I just needed you to admit it.”

“Wait until this shit happens to you. You’ll be just as deep in denial.”

Rhys didn’t answer, but his smile faded fast. “Probably.”

EIGHTEEN

Devlin

I beat my hands against the metal walls as an invisible fist slammed into my gut. I doubled over before crashing to the ground on my hands and knees. The floor burned my skin. I gasped for air as a blow to my face sent a tooth flying across the floor. The only sound was my grunts. No shouts. No voices. I was alone. Always alone.

But the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside me. A vast, black void where something vital should’ve been. How was I still alive without something so important? It didn’t make any sense.

I scrambled across the scorching floor, away from the punches. The wall in front of me rippled, and a door appeared. My body surged toward the promised escape, because hope never seemed to fucking die. It just came back over and over again like a damn zombie. But that door would disappear like it always did, and I’d be stuck here wishing for death.

Then a voice cut through the sound of my rasping breaths, and I stilled with one hand reaching for the doorknob. No…This was a new form of torture. My nightmare was evolving. It was going to give me the illusion of company—the hope that this crushing loneliness was finally over—then rip it away. Just like the door.