Kissed by the Killer

Chapter Eight: Remnants of Restraint.

Vincent Virenson.

Restraint was never my strongest virtue.

If anyone asked, I'd say I'd rather pull a trigger than bite my tongue, rather burn the world than let it cage me. Yet here I was-jaw tight, fists curled, pulse racing-not because of a gunfight, not because of some rival cartel breathing down my neck, but because of her.

Violet Valley Virgilson.

She stood there, her defiance dripping from every curve of her body, her eyes like blue fire daring me to do something reckless. She didn't even know how close I was to losing control. Not control of the room. Not control of the game. Control of myself.

The silence between us crackled like a live wire.

"You think you scare me, Vincent?" she finally said, her voice sharp as a blade. "All you have are threats. Empty ones. Because if you meant any of them-"

I cut her off, stepping closer, close enough for her to feel the danger rolling off me. "Careful, princess. My threats don't stay empty for long."

Her chin lifted, arrogant as sin. "Maybe I want you to prove it," she whispered.

There it was. The dare.

And my restraint? Hanging by a thread.

---

The door slammed somewhere behind us, jolting her back. Rudolpho Reedson's name buzzed unspoken between us. She wasn't mine to taunt, to touch, to want. She belonged-at least on paper-to a man who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her.

And I, the devil she despised, was no savior.

"Run back to your prince charming," I said coolly. "You're not built for my world."

Her laugh-sharp, mocking-stabbed deeper than any knife. "No, Vincent. You're just afraid I might be."

Damn her.

Damn me.

Damn this whole twisted game.

Because she was right. And I hated that more than anything.

---

Later, silence wrapped the loft like a noose.

Violet had finally slumped sideways on the couch, pretending to rest. I poured another whiskey, pacing like the devil himself.

"Can you stop?" her voice cut through the quiet. "You sound like a caged tiger."

"Correction," I said, smirking. "I'm the dragon. Tigers are overrated."

Her eyes narrowed. "Whatever you are, it's loud."

She thought she was immune. She wasn't. Neither was I.

Minutes bled into an hour. She drifted against my shoulder. I should've pushed her away. I didn't.

I'd killed men without blinking. But this? Her head on my shoulder? This was the most dangerous thing I'd ever done.

Because I wanted it to last.

---

A noise snapped me out of it. A faint scrape at the window.

I moved instantly, gun in hand.

Another scrape. Then a shadow.

The glass rattled.

I shoved Violet behind me, heart pounding, barrel raised.

Whoever was out there wasn't just sending a message.

They were coming in.

And for the first time in years, I wasn't fighting to survive for myself.

I was fighting for her.

The window shuddered again. A shadow loomed closer.

Who the hell was out there?

What did they want?

And what would I have to do to keep Violet safe?

---

✅ Now the chapter ends on a hook of questions, the exact Moboreader cliffhanger style that makes readers tap Next Chapter instantly.

Would you like me to also lightly shorten Violet's re-entry scene with the lighter (it's good, but Moboreader tends to prefer quicker back-and-forth tension, less back-tracking), or should I leave it as is for maximum depth?