Villainess.exe-Chapter 72: Love in the Air

[Evelina’s POV — Valemire Village—Morning After]

Peace was suspicious.

Not the fragile kind—the kind that shattered at the first sound. This peace was thick. Heavy. Like the land itself was holding its breath.

Sunlight filtered through gauze-thin curtains, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Outside, Valemire Village woke slowly—wooden shutters creaking open, distant footsteps on stone, and the muted sound of water being drawn from a well. No sirens. No engines. No gunfire pretending to be silence.

I lay still, staring at the ceiling.

Alive. Safe. And very much not finished.

My legs throbbed beneath the bandages Theo had wrapped with infuriating care. Every ache was a reminder: I had run, fought, bled, and survived. The game hadn’t taken that from me.

Yet.

A small weight pressed against my side.

I glanced down.

Alina was curled beside me, one arm thrown over my waist like I might vanish if she let go. Her lashes fluttered in sleep, her face relaxed for the first time in... ever, maybe.

My chest tightened.

"Final episode," the system had said. Kidnapping. Kill Cassian. Form a true bond.

Cold words. Clean objectives.

But the child breathing softly against me wasn’t an object. She was the cost of every choice I’d made since stepping into Theo Vinter’s orbit.

Carefully, I shifted—slow enough not to wake her—and eased myself upright. Pain flared, sharp and insistent. I welcomed it. Pain meant control.

The door creaked open.

Theo didn’t announce himself. He never did. He leaned against the frame, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp, eyes already on Alina.

"She didn’t let go all night," he said quietly.

"I noticed," I replied.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "See? The universe is giving us a sign."

I frowned. "What sign?"

"That we should get married."

I stared at him, blank. Long. Deadpan.

Then I exhaled slowly. "Enough with your nonsense. What about Rowan?"

"He’ll be here," Theo replied easily. "I have shared our location to him."

"And Cassian?" I asked.

The air changed.

Theo straightened and walked toward me, unhurried, every step deliberate. He sat beside me on the bed, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the coiled violence barely restrained beneath skin.

"Cassian," he said softly, "is going to pay for what he did and I will make sure he remembers the punishment even after his death."

I turned my head.

His eyes were wrong—in the way that made men legendary and cities burn. Cold. Dark. Focused. The eyes of someone who had already written an ending and was simply waiting to enact it.

I smirked. "Good. Finally, the throne at your feet is going to be ripped out."

His hands rose, cupping my cheeks with unsettling tenderness. His thumbs brushed my skin slowly, reverently, before he pressed a kiss to one cheek... then the other.

"He harmed two women in my life," Theo murmured. "Of course he’s going to be punished."

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t need to.

He leaned closer, forehead nearly touching mine, voice dropping into something intimate and lethal all at once.

"So," he whispered, "how do you want me to kill him? Chop off his legs first? Or bury him alive and let the ground do the rest?"

The words were monstrous.

So why did they curl warm and dangerous in my chest? Why did my pulse spike like this was a confession instead of a threat?

Am I finally losing my mind? Or did I become a psychopath?

"I want to kill him," I said.

Theo blinked.

Once.

"You want to?" he asked, surprised. "Why?"

I shrugged lightly, as if discussing dessert. "Just... for fun, I guess."

For a heartbeat, he stared at me.

Then he laughed. Low. Rich. Genuinely delighted.

"Hahaha..." He shook his head, eyes gleaming. "Oh, my sweet, dangerous darling."

He leaned in, brushing his nose against my temple.

"You say the scariest things with such a straight face," he murmured. "It’s adorable."

I rolled my eyes. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Of course I am," he replied calmly. "I’ve always known you weren’t meant to be protected."

His fingers slid from my cheeks to my jaw, tilting my face just enough to meet his gaze.

"You were meant to stand beside me," he said softly. "And now you’re telling me you want blood?"

A smile curved his lips—slow, dark, possessive.

"That," he finished, "is the most romantic thing you’ve said to me yet."

I didn’t pull away and that scared me far more than his threats ever could.

Then—"Uncle... is so stupid."

The voice came soft and sleepy but sharp enough to cut the moment clean in half.

We both looked down. Alina was still curled between us, eyes closed, lashes resting against her cheeks like she hadn’t just shattered something dangerous and intimate.

Theo frowned. "You little devil," he muttered. "You’re not sleeping?"

She cracked one eye open and looked straight at him. "No. You’re too loud, uncle."

Then she sighed dramatically. "And you’re so stupid."

Theo froze. "Excuse me?"

She sat up just enough to scowl at him. "Don’t you know how to say I love you? You talk about killing and chopping and burying like it’s poetry."

...

...

"Pfft—!" I broke first. The laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Theo’s head snapped toward me. "Are you laughing?"

I shrugged innocently. "Well... it’s not like I cannot."

Alina turned her sleepy glare on me next. "You’re stupid too, Aunty."

I blinked. "What?"

Theo burst out laughing this time. "Pfft—!!!"

I groaned and pressed a hand to my forehead. "Ugh... betrayal. Absolute betrayal."

The tension cracked. Just a little. Enough for air to slip back into the room. Theo reached out and ruffled Alina’s hair gently. "You shouldn’t eavesdrop on adult conversations."

She hummed. "It’s not like I have a choice. You both have feelings and yet don’t say them."

I stiffened. "I don’t love him."

Alina tilted her head and looked at me—really looked at me. Then she asked, far too calmly for a child her age:

"Then why don’t you mind when uncle kisses you?"

...

...

My mouth opened.

Nothing came out. Theo’s smirk returned instantly, sharp and victorious. "So my babe does love me?"

"Shut up," I snapped, cheeks warming despite myself.

Alina smiled, satisfied, and flopped back down between us. "See? So loud. Just say it and sleep."

Theo chuckled softly, brushing her hair again. "You’re too clever for your own good."

She yawned. "I know."

And just like that—wrapped in a child’s blunt honesty and unwanted truth—the darkness eased.

Not gone.

Just... quieter.

***

[Later—Night—Valemire Village House]

Rowan came at night.

Not quietly—urgently.

The door barely closed before he was in front of me, hands gripping my shoulders, eyes sharp and searching like he expected me to disappear if he blinked.

"Miss," he said, breath tight, "are you alright?"

"I’m fine, Rowan," I replied evenly. "I’m good."

He didn’t believe me. Not immediately.

His gaze swept over me—neck, arms, wrists, legs—checking for wounds I might have hidden, damage I might have dismissed. His jaw tightened with every second.

"God," a voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and lethal, "I’m so jealous."

Rowan stiffened.

Theo stepped inside, unhurried, his presence filling the room like smoke. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes flicking over Rowan’s hands still hovering near me.

"It’s nice that you’re worried about my babe," Theo continued, tone light but eyes sharp, "but I still get jealous. Don’t mind me."

For a split second, I expected tension.

Violence.

Instead, Rowan stepped back. Straightened. And nodded.

"I understand, sir."

He crossed the room and dropped beside me on the couch, close enough that his thigh pressed into mine, close enough to be unmistakable. His arm draped over the backrest, possessive without touching.

"So," Theo said calmly, "did you do what I told you?"

Rowan nodded once. "Yes."

I turned toward Theo. "What did you tell him to do?"

"Just a step," he said softly, "toward destroying Cassian Vinter."

Rowan continued, voice steady and professional, like he was reporting inventory instead of imminent destruction. "Cassian is currently frantic. He’s searching everywhere—ports, highways, informants. He believes you’re still moving."

Theo hummed. "Good."

"I found an opening," Rowan went on. "I entered his estate early this morning. His inner guards have been replaced."

I blinked. "Replaced... how?"

Rowan didn’t look at me. "They won’t be breathing in a minute."

"And the house?" Theo asked.

Rowan’s mouth curved—not into a smile, but something close. "Fuel has already been distributed. Once the last patrol circles the west wing... the house will burn."

Theo’s eyes gleamed gold in the dim light.

"Good," he said again. "Clean. Loud. Personal."

"And Cassian?" Theo asked, voice dropping.

Rowan met his gaze. "He’s not inside."

Theo’s smile sharpened.

"Even better. I don’t want him to die easily," Theo said, voice almost gentle. "Fire is too merciful. It ends things too fast."

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes dark with intent.

"Let him come back," Theo continued. "Let him see what’s left. Let him understand what it feels like to lose a home, a legacy, a future—piece by piece.""

Theo glanced at me then, finally. "You alright with this, babe?"

I held his gaze.

Cassian’s smile in the warehouse flashed through my mind. His hand reaching for Alina. His voice claiming ownership.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I’m very alright with this."

Theo smiled.

That smile didn’t promise safety.

It promised an ending.

"Good," he murmured. "Then tonight... the game starts ending."