The Villain's Life Is Now Mine

Serial Killer

Emily's scream was swallowed by the woods. The carriage door burst open, ripped back on its hinges, and she was yanked forward into the dying light. Her nails scraped the edges of the frame as she kicked, twisted, clawed anything. Her cloak tangled around her legs, and the moment her boots hit the earth, he dragged her toward the trees. "Let me go!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. "You bastard!"

He said nothing. His grip bruised her wrist, iron-tight, unrelenting. Emily swung her free arm, punching blindly, her body moving on instinct. A flash of pain shot through her knuckles, skin met bone, something cracked, and the killer flinched. But he didn't stop.

"You nobles never learn," he growled, yanking her into a small clearing. "Always thinking the world owes you." He raised a blade.

Emily backed into a tree, gasping, her heart clawing against her ribs. She thought of her parents. Her bedroom full of books. The hot buzz of electricity in her phone charger.

I didn't die in one world just to be murdered in another. She launched forward, trying to grab his arm, twist his wrist, anything. He knocked her back. She fell hard, knees scraping rock, palms burning. The blade came down. A blur of black intercepted it. Steel clashed with steel.

Emily blinked. The killer staggered, his blade knocked clean from his hand. A boot struct him squarely in the chest and sent him flying backward into the dirt. Two figures stepped into view. The first, a tall man in a tailored midnight-blue coat, drew his sword with fluid grace. His dark hair was tousled, his face unreadable save for tightness in his jaw. His eyes, glacial grey, barely flickered in her direction.

The second man was taller, broader, with golden eyes and a scar slicing across one brow. He looked down at Emily with cool, guarded calculation before raising his voice. "Restrain him." A half dozen royal guards emerged from the trees like ghosts, surrounding the killer, weapons drawn. Metal shackles clamped around his wrists. This serial killer thrashed. "You can't, you don't know what they do!"

The scarred duke nodded once. "I know exactly what you do." The man spat blood. Emily staggered upright, bruised and trembling. She tried to speak, thank them? curse them? but her mouth wouldn't cooperate. They grey-eyed duke finally turned toward her. His gaze swept her from head to toe, mussed hair, scraped hands, cloak torn at the hem. He paused. His brow twitched. "You fought," he said flatly.

Emily blinked. "I saw you," he continued. "Fighting like a rabid animal."

She bristled. "You're welcome."

He didn't answer. The other man stepped forward, brushing dirt off his black gloves. "Lady Raven," he said cooly, "We've been searching for this man for weeks. You're fortunate he chose a high-profile target."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "You're welcome to say thank you any time."

His lips twitched. Barely. "I don't thank bait."

"No," the grey eyed one said softly. "But you fought like someone who's never held a blade in her life... and did it anyway."

Emily's heart skipped a beat. He's notice. Not just the fight, but the impossibility of it. That the old Raven, the one they thought they knew, would've never fought at all. He tilted his head slightly. "Curious."

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"No," he said. "But I expect one anyway."

The guards began escorting the killer away, one on each arm, the man muttering to himself in a fevered haze. "Mad bastard," one guard said under his breath.

The scarred duke turned back to Emily. "Your father will be notified immediately. You'll be escorted to the palace under protection."

"I can walk."

"I didn't ask."

Emily exhaled sharply. "At least tell me your names. Since you did save my life."

Neither man moved. Then, the last, the grey-eyed one said, "Duke Alistair Draven."

The scarred one followed, "Duke Cassian Vale."

Draven. Vale. Emily stared at them both. She'd heard the names but never connected them to faces. Raven must have avoided or offended them in some way. That would explain the coldness. She hesitated. "You knew me before."

Cassian's golden eyes flickered. "We knew of you."

Alistair's voice was quieter. "I've seen you at banquets. Always loud. Always dramatic. But never brave." Emily stiffened. "Today," he said, stepping past her, "you were something else."