Page 160 of Villainous Rise

The fog had cocooned us again, wrapping around us like a privacy shield. I could hear the gentle rhythm of waves lapping at the shore, but I couldn’t see the water. It was just us, suspended in a world of gray nothing.

Annie’s face was flushed, her eyes bright with adrenaline. Her hair had come partially undone, wisps of it framing her face. She’d never looked more beautiful.

And I’d never felt more like a complete fucking asshole.

“I’m sorry,” I said abruptly. “So fucking sorry for tonight.”

Her smile faded, replaced by wariness.

“I didn’t know how to handle...” I trailed off, the words sticking in my throat. I couldn’t even say it, couldn’t verbalize the image of Valor’s mouth on hers that had been branded into my brain.

“I should have asked if you were okay,” I continued. “Should have sheltered you after you were violated. Instead, I was...”

“A huge fucking asshole?” Annie supplied, her voice flat.

I nodded. It was something we absolutely agreed on. “Yes. I was.”

“You wanted to hurt me,” she said. “Deliberately.”

I considered denying it, softening it, explaining it away. But I owed her the truth.

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I was catastrophically wrong. And fucking stupid. I was a child who couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings. I punished you because I couldn’t handle seeing Valor’s hands on you. His mouth on you.” My jaw clenched at the memory. “And I...”

I didn’t continue. There was no way to apologize for what I did. No words that could adequately express the self-loathing coursing through me. I’d betrayed her. Again. I’d broken her. Again.

Annie’s hands dropped from my shoulders. For a moment, I thought she was going to walk away, disappear into the fog and out of my life. I wouldn’t blame her.

“You hurt me,” she said softly. “You made me feel worthless. Disposable.”

Each word was a knife twisting in my chest. I didn’t flinch away from the pain. I deserved it.

“You’re not worthless,” I said, the words rushing out. “You’re not fucking disposable. You’re everything, fucking everything, to me. I’ve told you that before, and it’s still true. I love you. In my broken, fucked-up way, I love you.”

The words hung between us, suspended in the fog.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I added quickly. “Not after what I did. Not after how I acted.”

Annie’s brow furrowed, creating that little crease between her eyebrows. “I told you I love you,” she said, confusion evident in her voice.

“Yes, well.” I looked away. “That was before I fucked up. Again.”

“Let me get this straight.” Annie crossed her arms, her posture shifting from wounded to incredulous. “You think that because you lashed out when you were justifiably hurt, I wouldn’t love you anymore?”

I blinked. “Yes?” The answer came out like a question, because suddenly I wasn’t sure. The logic had seemed so clear in my head. I hurt her. I broke her. Therefore, she couldn’t possibly still love me.

“That’s not how love works,” she said. “People who love each other fuck up. They hurt each other. They make mistakes.”

“I made you cry,” I pointed out, the memory of her tears still fresh and raw. “I broke you.”

“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “And it hurt. It still hurts.”

I flinched at her honesty, but she continued before I could respond.

“But that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. It just means you’re an asshole sometimes.” She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “An asshole I happen to love.”

The fog swirled around us, creating a world where nothing existed but this impossible woman who kept choosing me despite everything.

“I don’t deserve you,” I said, the words torn from somewhere deep and raw.