Kissed by the Killer

Chapter Thirteen: Love at Lethal Lope. Violet Virgilson. The air in Vincent Virenson's house was still thick with smoke-whether from the whiskey, the gunpowder tang of blood, or just the fire he'd set beneath my skin, I couldn't tell. My heartbeat hadn't slowed since he leaned in, whispering that I was under his skin. My walls had cracked, my resolve had burned, and my sanity was somewhere in ashes on the rug. Silence pressed against the walls like a second skin. Every breath I drew carried the taste of him-danger, sin, temptation, and a promise I had no right to crave. Then came the pounding. A violent, relentless thunder against the front door that split the silence wide open. I jolted, my chest seizing with dread. I should've been relieved-saved from the dangerous gravity pulling me closer to Vincent. Instead, icy fear wrapped its claws around my ribs. Whoever it was, it couldn't be good. Vincent's head snapped toward the door, his predator's gaze sharpening to a blade. His entire body stilled, except for the flex of his jaw, and the faint flare of his nostrils. "Stay here," he ordered. Like hell I was staying anywhere. My nerves were screaming, my instincts shredding. But before I could move, before I could even breathe, the door slammed open with the force of a storm. And there he was. Rudolpho. My husband. The man who once swore he'd love me until death. At this point, I wasn't sure whether that vow was a promise or a threat. "Violet," he said, his voice sharp as a whip. His eyes flicked from me to Vincent, narrowing dangerously. "What in God's name are you doing here?" My mouth dried instantly. Words tangled in my throat, unable to escape. Vincent rose slowly, like a king inconvenienced by a peasant. He didn't flinch, didn't falter, didn't even glance at me. His gaze locked on Rudolpho with a cool, lethal calm that made the room feel too small. "You're trespassing," Vincent said. Rudolpho barked a humorless laugh, stepping inside like he owned the air I was breathing. "And you're harboring my wife." Vincent's lip curved. Not a smile-too sharp for that. More like a blade. "I don't see a wife." His eyes cut to me, hot and merciless. "I see a woman making her own choices." My pulse skittered. Oh, no. Not this. Not another battle of egos fought with me as the weapon. "Choices?" Rudolpho sneered, his presence expanding like a storm cloud swallowing the room. "You think she has a choice, Virenson? You're forgetting something." Vincent's tone dripped silk, but every syllable was lined with steel. "And what's that?" "That I know what you've been hiding." Rudolpho leaned forward, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. "Your little underground games. Your illegal sport. Do you think the police wouldn't love to know where to start digging?" The silence that followed could've shattered glass. My heart thundered, rattling my ribcage. Vincent's grin didn't falter, but I saw it-the flicker in his eyes. The dangerous recognition that Rudolpho wasn't bluffing. "You wouldn't dare," Vincent murmured. "Wouldn't I?" Rudolpho tilted his head, savoring every syllable. "One phone call, Virenson. And your empire goes up in flames faster than those barriers Violet keeps trying to build against you." My stomach dropped. My skin went cold. No. No, no, no. Vincent could face assassins, enemies, wars-but the police? Exposure? That could ruin him. This wasn't a battlefield he could dominate with fists, cunning, or fury. This was law. And law had a way of stripping even kings of their crowns. And damn me, but I couldn't let that happen. "Stop," I said, my voice breaking through their duel like a cracked bell. Both men turned to me. Vincent's gaze burned. Rudolpho's pressed like iron. "Violet-" Vincent began, his tone darker than a midnight storm. I cut him off, my throat tight. "Don't. Just... don't." The fire in his eyes dimmed into something else-something rawer. I almost wished he'd stayed angry. His anger I could handle. That look? That silent plea? It threatened to undo me. "Violet," Rudolpho said, and for the briefest second his voice softened, a wolf pretending to be a lamb. "Come with me. End this circus. Or I make the call." The words landed like chains around my wrists. I looked at Vincent. At the dangerous man who had kissed me like the world was ending, who had burned through every barrier I'd ever built. He stood tall, proud, untouchable-and yet, in that moment, I saw something I'd never seen before. Vulnerability. Fear-not of Rudolpho, not of the police, but of me leaving. And I knew. I knew what I had to do, even though the decision tasted like poison. My chest ached as I forced the words out. "So you're just going to go with him?" Vincent asked. His voice was low, deadly, almost disbelieving. The question speared straight into me. My throat closed. My body wanted to collapse. "Yes," I whispered, then louder, steadying my tone though it nearly broke me. "Yes. He is my husband." I swallowed hard, my lips trembling, but I kept my chin high. "And you? You are just a lover." The silence that followed hollowed me out. But the truth was a liar. Because under my breath, so faint I wasn't sure if I wanted him to hear it, I murmured, "A lover I wouldn't forget." Vincent's eyes darkened, something dangerous and broken flashing there. My heart clenched so tightly I thought it might splinter. And just like that, I left his house and his life, without looking back. --- The door closed behind me with a thud that echoed like a coffin lid sealing shut. I didn't dare turn around. If I did-if I looked at him one last time-I wouldn't be able to leave. I would crumble. And if I crumbled, Rudolpho would win. He'd drag Vincent into ruin, and I couldn't let that happen. So I walked. My steps were steady, but inside I was fracturing. Every pace away from Vincent was a blade slicing deeper. Rudolpho's hand pressed against the small of my back as if to herd me, like I was livestock. I wanted to slap it off, but my fingers felt numb. I wanted to scream, but my throat was locked tight. The night air hit me like ice as we stepped outside. The world smelled wrong-too crisp, too clean. Nothing like the intoxicating chaos inside Vincent's house. Rudolpho opened the car door, the gesture deceptively polite. I slid in, my body moving while my soul lagged behind, still in that room, still staring at Vincent's burning eyes. The engine roared to life, and the car jerked forward. Silence blanketed us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Rudolpho broke it. "Do you have any idea what kind of man you were just with?" His tone dripped with disdain. "Do you know the filth you were sinking into?" My head snapped toward him, fury sparking through my grief. "Do you have any idea what kind of man you are? Because let me remind you, Rudolpho-you're no saint." His jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "I'm your husband." "Barely," I spat. That shut him up for a moment. But not long. Rudolpho never could stand silence when he wasn't the one controlling it. "You think Virenson cares for you?" he sneered. "You're just another conquest. Another notch on the belt of a criminal. He'll throw you aside once he's bored." I laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a sob strangled in my throat. "Funny. That's exactly what you did, isn't it? The difference is, Vincent doesn't pretend." Rudolpho's head whipped toward me, his eyes blazing. The car swerved, tires squealing before he corrected the wheel. "You dare compare me to him?" His voice shook with rage. "I gave you everything. My name, my wealth, my protection-" "Protection?" I cut in sharply. "You call this protection? Dragging me away like a trophy? Threatening the man I-" I stopped. The word had been too close. Too dangerous. The man I loved. But I couldn't say it. Not out loud. Not here. Rudolpho smirked, sensing the words unsaid. "The man you what? Lust after? Fool around with? Don't delude yourself, Violet. Men like him don't love. Men like him devour." "And men like you?" I hissed. "What do men like you do, Rudolpho? Chain? Cage? Control?" He slammed his fist against the dashboard. The sound reverberated through the car, but it didn't silence me. If anything, it lit a fire under my tongue. "You think I didn't see you?" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. "All those nights you didn't come home. All those lies you thought I couldn't read. You abandoned me long before I ever looked at Vincent. So don't you dare stand there and act like the righteous husband now." His nostrils flared. His jaw worked furiously. For once, he had no words. Silence reclaimed the car. Not peace-never peace-but silence. The kind that thrummed with danger, like a bomb counting down. I turned my face to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. My reflection stared back at me-haunted eyes, pale skin, lips pressed tight to keep from quivering. In that reflection, I saw the truth. I wasn't leaving Vincent because I wanted Rudolpho. I was leaving because I couldn't let Vincent fall. Because for once in my life, I was choosing to protect someone else, even if it destroyed me. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of Rudolpho. Not when he'd savor every drop. I whispered to the glass, so faint it fogged with my breath, "A lover I wouldn't forget." The words weren't for Rudolpho. They were for the man I'd left behind. The man whose eyes had seared themselves into my soul. "Did you say something?" Rudolpho asked sharply. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "No." The drive stretched on, every mile another nail in my coffin. By the time we pulled into the estate, I felt hollow. A puppet on strings. Rudolpho parked with a sharp jerk and turned to me. His eyes gleamed with triumph. "Good girl," he murmured. "You made the right choice." I met his gaze, my voice steady though my insides trembled. "No, Rudolpho. I made the necessary choice." I opened the door before he could reply, stepping out into the night. The cool air slapped my face, and I breathed it in like freedom-even though I knew I was stepping into a different kind of prison. Behind me, I heard him chuckle. Low, victorious, cruel. But over his laugh, in the hollow of my chest, another sound echoed louder. Vincent's voice. "So you're just going to go with him?" Yes. But my heart had stayed behind.