Chapter Eighteen: Rhythm of Ruin.

Vincent Virenson.

Violet Virgilson. God help me, the very thought of her made my blood run hotter than any gunpowder I'd ever handled. She was here-my apartment, my territory-and every instinct in me screamed both warning and exhilaration. She wasn't supposed to be this... disarming. Dangerous. Irresistible. I had spent years building walls, mastering patience, honing control-and then she waltzed in, hair wild, eyes bright with defiance, and tore all of it apart with one sarcastic quip.

She sat on the edge of my leather couch, knees tucked under her, arms wrapped around them like a human fortress. Her gaze flicked to the floor, then back to me, challenging me without a single word. I leaned against the doorway, hands in my pockets, trying to keep the grin off my face. That was always the first mistake: trying to look unbothered when she existed. Impossible.

"Relax," I murmured, voice low, deliberately slow, dragging out each word so it could crawl into her ears and ignite every nerve. "You're in my apartment. You're safe."

Her laugh-soft, incredulous, a little bitter-echoed against the walls. "Safe? From you? That's rich."

"Exactly." I took a step closer, letting the shadows stretch across her like a predator circling its prey. "I'm rich, dangerous... and apparently, irresistible. Safe has nothing to do with it."

She flinched slightly, though she tried to hide it behind a tilt of her chin and a smirk that was way too controlled. "Irresistible, huh? That's the polite way of saying I'm about to die from whatever disaster you've planned."

"You like disasters," I countered, taking another step until I was mere inches from her. "You've always liked the dangerous option."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you think I want... this?" She gestured vaguely to the space between us, the tension thick enough to choke on.

"I don't think. I know," I said, voice dropping to a growl. "I've seen it in your pulse, your fingers, your stupid, stubborn jawline. You're dying to admit it. Hell, you almost did last night."

Her nostrils flared. "Almost doesn't count."

"Almost counts when it's you," I said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, letting my thumb graze the skin just below her cheekbone. "Because you never almost do anything without meaning it."

Her chest heaved, sharp inhale catching in the air between us. "Vincent-"

"No," I interrupted, pressing closer, letting the tip of my nose graze hers. "Not yet. You're not allowed to speak yet. You listen. You feel."

Her hands clenched in her lap, nails digging into her skin, but her body betrayed her. She leaned slightly forward, subconsciously seeking the proximity she claimed to hate. My grin widened.

"You're a terrible influence," she hissed, voice trembling with the mix of anger and desire I craved like oxygen.

"And you... love it," I replied, letting the words slide like a velvet dagger into her mind.

She blinked, startled by my certainty. "I-no. I don't..." Her voice faltered, giving me exactly what I wanted: vulnerability wrapped in defiance.

I leaned even closer, lowering my voice until it was a dangerous whisper. "You do. You know it, Violet. You're in my apartment. Not yours. Every muscle, every nerve, every thought... mine, now. Admit it."

Her head tilted, fighting, challenging. "I'm not..."

I silenced her with a finger pressed gently-but firmly-to her lips. "Stop pretending. Your body isn't lying. Your mind wants to, but your body... your body already surrendered. And I will remind you, every single day, until you stop denying it."

The tension crackled, a storm waiting to break. My fingers lingered, tracing the line of her jaw down to her collarbone. She shivered, but didn't pull away. Did she dare? Or did she crave this as much as I did? The answer was obvious in the way her breath hitched, shallow, rapid, as if every inhale was a battle between reason and need.

"You're impossible," she whispered finally, voice low, dangerous, and I almost laughed at the irony.

"And yet... you're here," I countered, eyes darkening with hunger, fingers brushing over hers as if testing the truth of her submission. "You didn't leave. You could have run the second you saw me, but you didn't. You stayed."

Her lips parted slightly, a confession unspoken. "I... didn't run," she admitted, eyes flicking up at me, bright with both fear and a challenge.

"Exactly." I grinned, leaning down, close enough for our foreheads to almost touch. "You didn't run. And neither will you. You're mine tonight."

She pulled back suddenly, rolling her eyes, feigning exasperation, but I caught the tremor of her pulse beneath my palm. "Mine? That's... bold, Vincent. Do you hand out ownership certificates now? Or just assume things?"

I smiled darkly. "I assume. I take. I take what I want."

Her jaw dropped slightly, not from shock-she wasn't that naïve-but because she knew I was utterly serious. "You-"

"Shh." I pressed my lips to her ear, letting my words caress her skin like fire. "Every argument you have left... I'll win. Every protest, every warning... pointless. And don't think about Rudolpho. Don't think about your vows. Don't think about anyone but me, because right now... I'm the only thing that matters."

Her back arched involuntarily, a silent, human admission that she felt it too. Desire. Temptation. The sharp, delicious line between restraint and surrender.

"I-" she started, then stopped, trembling, eyes darting away.

I cupped her face, forcing her gaze back to mine. "No. You finish. You say it. You don't hide it from me."

"I..." She swallowed hard, eyes glistening. "I... want... this. I want you."

The confession hit me like a bullet fired straight to the chest. Sweet, dangerous, intoxicating. My grin widened, teeth flashing. "I knew it. And I'll remind you every second you try to deny it."

She groaned, dramatic and frustrated, but it only fueled the fire between us. "You're insane."

"And you love it," I whispered, brushing my thumb over her lower lip.

Hours passed-or maybe minutes; time bent around us, an endless loop of tension, teasing, and touches too dangerous to ignore. We were a battlefield and a dance floor at once, words clashing like swords, fingers brushing like sparks striking steel. Every glance, every smirk, every breathless laugh was another step deeper into chaos.

She tried to fight me, but I was patient, methodical. Every teasing remark, every sharp comment, every sarcastic barb I hurled her way wasn't just for amusement. It was strategy. Control. Seduction. War. And I was winning.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered finally, voice tight, chest rising and falling with shallow, heated breaths.

"Ridiculous? Maybe." I leaned back, pretending nonchalance, though my pulse hammered like war drums. "Dangerous? Absolutely. Irresistible? You tell me."

She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. "You're... not exactly subtle, you know."

"Subtlety is for cowards," I said, voice low, dark, almost a growl. "And you, my dear, deserve a war, not a whisper."

She laughed, sharp, musical, but the sound had a tremor. "You're going to ruin me," she said softly, almost in surrender.

"I don't ruin," I corrected, stepping closer. "I claim. I conquer. I make you see how much better life is when you stop pretending and just... let go."

Her breath hitched, lips parting slightly. She tried to protest, tried to find some moral high ground, but the battle was already lost. And I smiled, knowing she knew it too.

"You're unbelievable," she whispered, eyes dark with confusion, desire, and just a hint of fear.

"And you're hopelessly hooked," I said, my grin widening as I closed the last few inches between us. "Hopeless. Deliciously, infuriatingly hooked."

Then came the knock. Sharp, insistent, jarring against the charged air of the apartment.

We froze. Violet's eyes widened. "Who-"

I didn't answer. I already knew. And my grin shifted into something darker, sharper. Dangerous.

I could feel her trembling beside me, not from me-but from what waited beyond the door. Someone had crossed the line into our territory.

I placed a finger over her lips. "Stay," I ordered softly, almost a growl. "No matter what happens, don't move."

Her pulse raced, every nerve alert, as the knock came again. Louder. More demanding.

I reached into my jacket, fingers brushing the gun tucked inside. A smirk tugged at my lips. "Perfect timing," I whispered. "The rhythm of ruin is about to play."

And with that, I moved to the door, ready to face whoever dared disrupt us, knowing this night-this symphony-was far from over.

This is my Rhythm of Ruin!

Chapter Nineteen: Harmony of Havoc.

Violet Virgilson.

The warehouse smelled of betrayal.

Not just smoke and rust and old whiskey, but betrayal. That sharp, metallic tang that clings to the air when people who once swore loyalty decide to trade you for a better deal.

I should've known the moment we stepped inside. The silence was too thick. The shadows stretched too long. Vincent's men-no, not his men anymore-shifted restlessly, eyes sliding away from his like guilty schoolboys caught cheating on an exam.

I hugged his leather jacket tighter around me, watching him with that terrifying, infuriating calm he wore like a second skin. Vincent Virenson could be bleeding out, and he'd still look like the devil in charge of the underworld. But even devils cracked, and I could see it in the hard line of his jaw.

And then Marco spoke.

"I'm sorry, Centy." His voice broke the silence like a cheap violin out of tune. "Caroline-she made an offer none of us could refuse."

Centy.

The nickname slipped from his lips like a curse and a mockery all at once. My stomach twisted at the sound of it.

Vincent didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He just tilted his head, glass of whiskey still in his hand, his eyes glowing like embers ready to set the whole damn city on fire.

"She made an offer?" His voice was soft. Too soft. That dangerous kind of soft that made your spine shiver. "And you-what? Jumped like a dog for scraps?"

Marco smiled. Actually smiled. That sheepish, traitor's smile, as if betrayal was nothing more than a joke between old friends.

That's when I realized-Marco wasn't sorry. Not one damn bit.

The glass shattered before I even saw Vincent's hand move. Amber liquid sprayed across the concrete wall, dripping like fire, but no one dared breathe. Except Marco. He just kept smiling like he thought he'd won.

And maybe he had.

Because in the corner of the warehouse, tied to a chair with ropes digging into his arms, was Daigo.

Daigo. The one man who'd never flinched, never backed down, never questioned Vincent. If Vincent was the fire, Daigo was the steel that kept it burning. And Caroline had him.

The realization hit like a punch. My heart stuttered in my chest.

And then she walked in.

Caroline.

God help me, she looked like a storm in heels-perfect hair, red lips, every step clicking against the concrete like a countdown to destruction. And beside her? A stranger who was no stranger at all, not once you saw the resemblance. Taller, older, darker. His smile was a mirror of hers-wolfish, smug, lethal.

"Dominic," she purred, like she was introducing her pet panther. "Meet Vincent's little darling. The one making him weak."

Her eyes landed on me. Sharp. Hungry. And suddenly I felt every inch the burden I swore I wasn't.

Vincent stiffened, his body a wall of fury between me and them, but Dominic's gaze slid past him like he wasn't even there. His eyes found mine-and lingered.

And then he smiled.

A slow, sheepish, devastating smile that made my blood boil and my stomach flip all at once.

"Well, well," Dominic drawled, voice smooth as silk dipped in venom. "The songbird herself. No wonder Centy's empire is crumbling. If I were him, I'd burn down a city for you too."

Vincent growled, low and lethal, but Dominic didn't even blink. He just tilted his head, studying me like I was already his prize.

"You don't know me," I snapped, my voice sharper than I felt.

"Oh, I know enough," Dominic said, his smirk widening. "I know you're the reason Daigo's in that chair. I know you're the reason Vincent's men are turning on him. And I know..." His eyes dipped, then rose again, deliberate. "...you're worth every second of this little game."

I swallowed hard, hating the way heat rose to my cheeks. "Stay away from me."

Marco chuckled from where he leaned against the wall. "Good luck with that, Violet. Dominic doesn't stay away from anything he wants."

The betrayal in his voice cut deeper than Dominic's flirting. Marco, the man who used to swear loyalty over late-night drinks, who once carried Daigo out of a firefight with his own hands-now he was smiling, mocking, while Daigo bled in a chair.

"Marco," I whispered, almost to myself. "How could you?"

He met my gaze, shrugging like it was nothing. "Survival, sweetheart. Caroline knows how to pick the winning side."

The world tilted.

Daigo groaned.

And Vincent finally moved.

He stepped forward, each stride a promise of violence, his eyes locked on Marco like the bullet already had his name carved into it.

The warehouse went silent.

And I?

I realized this was only the beginning of the havoc.

---

The night pressed heavy around me, as though the shadows themselves had grown teeth. I could barely catch my breath. Betrayal still tasted bitter on my tongue-Marco's smirk replaying in my head like a broken record.

"Marco... why?" I whispered into the silence, though there was no answer except the faint hum of the generator outside. He had laughed. He had looked Vincent in the eye and chosen Caroline. Again.

And now Daigo-sweet, stubborn, loyal Daigo-was gone.

I tried not to think of him tied to a chair somewhere, bruises blooming across his jaw while Caroline sharpened her claws. Tried not to think of Vincent's face, the way it had drained of color when Marco revealed his betrayal.

Vincent...

God, if only he knew how much I hated myself right now.

I hugged my arms around me, pacing the dimly lit safehouse, shoes clicking against the tiled floor. I wanted to scream. To break something. But instead, I pressed my teeth against my knuckles until I tasted blood.

That's when the door creaked.

I spun, heart in my throat, and there he was.

Dominic.

Caroline's elder brother. Trouble incarnate wrapped in an expensive suit and a smile that was far too amused for the chaos he'd helped unleash.

"Well, well," he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. His voice slid through the air like velvet dipped in poison. "The infamous Violet Virgilson. Even prettier up close than the stories say."

My jaw tightened. "Get out."

He chuckled low, ignoring my glare as his eyes dragged over me. Not lewd. Not yet. But heavy enough to make my skin prickle.

"Now, now, don't be like that. I came to deliver a message." His grin widened. "Your precious Vincent? He's bleeding allies faster than a sinking ship loses water. And Daigo-" he tilted his head, feigning sympathy "-he's in our care. Caroline's care. Though, between you and me..." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "...she doesn't have half the finesse I do when it comes to breaking men."

My stomach churned, but I refused to flinch. That's what he wanted.

"You touch Daigo and I swear-"

"Oh, relax," Dominic cut in smoothly, though his gaze flickered over my lips, lingering there too long. "I wouldn't hurt him. But you..." He let out a soft whistle, stepping closer until only a breath separated us. "...you're the kind of woman a man could go to war for. I almost pity Vincent."

The audacity of him-standing there, flirting, while Daigo was in chains and Marco played Judas all over again-made something snap inside me.

I shoved him back hard. "Keep your pity. And keep your distance."

He stumbled a step, then laughed. Actually laughed. "Spirited. I like that. No wonder Vincent clings to you. He knows if he lets go, I'll be right there to catch you."

My hand itched for a weapon, but there was nothing within reach. Just my fury. Just the tremor in my chest.

"Get. Out."

This time, Dominic obeyed, but not before flashing that wolfish smile again. "Careful, Violet. Broken men don't make good lovers. They make great enemies. And Vincent..." He tapped two fingers to his temple. "...he's already breaking."

Bye songbird

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I sank against the wall, fighting the urge to crumble. Because for once, Dominic wasn't wrong.

Vincent was breaking.

And I-I was part of the reason why.

---

Vincent Virenson

The glass shattered against the wall before I even realized I'd thrown it.

"DAMN IT!" My roar echoed in the hollow expanse of the safehouse office, bouncing back at me like a chorus of my own failures.

Whiskey streaked down the wallpaper, dripping onto the carpet. Another stain for the collection. Another mess I couldn't clean up.

Daigo. Loyal Daigo. The one man who'd stood by me when the world crumbled, when Caroline sharpened her knives, when Marco first betrayed me. Now he was gone. Snatched by the very vipers I'd spent my life trying to cut down.

And Marco-God.

That smirk. That sheepish smile as though betrayal was just a game. As though handing me over to Caroline and Dominic was nothing more than a casual pastime.

"Bastard," I growled, slamming my fist against the desk. Wood splintered. My knuckles split. The pain felt good. Real. Something I could control.

But control was slipping.

My men were scattered, half of them bought, the other half too scared to stand. Allies? Gone. The empire I'd built was a house of cards, and Caroline had just exhaled.

And then there was Violet.

I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing. God, the look in her eyes earlier-like she was the burden, like all this blood was somehow staining her hands instead of mine.

If only she knew.

If only she could see that she was the only damn thing keeping me from burning everything down and letting the flames take me too.

The door creaked.

I spun, half-expecting Marco to slink back in, ready with another dagger for my spine. Instead, it was Dominic. Smug, polished, and too calm for a man who should've been bleeding out on my floor by now.

"You've lost your touch, Vincent," he said with that sheepish smile of his, the one that always made me want to rearrange his jaw. "I walked right past your guards. Or what's left of them."

I clenched my fists. "Where's Daigo?"

He tilted his head, eyes glittering with mock sympathy. "Safe. For now. Caroline's... entertaining him." He smirked. "Though between us, she lacks creativity."

Rage boiled in my veins. "If you lay a hand-"

"Oh, relax." Dominic waved a hand like I was a child throwing a tantrum. Then his smile sharpened. "Your problem isn't me. It isn't even Caroline. It's Marco."

The name hit like a knife.

"Your lapdog wagged his tail for us again. Twice bitten, twice fooled, Vincent. How many times will you let the same snake strike before you crush its head?"

My nails dug into my palms, blood seeping from the cuts on my knuckles. He wasn't wrong. But hearing it from Dominic's mouth made me want to rip out his tongue.

"Careful, Dominic," I said through clenched teeth. "You're circling too close to fire."

"And you," he countered smoothly, "are circling the drain."

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Heavy. Suffocating. Then he leaned forward, voice dropping low.

"Tell me, Vincent... when you break-and you will-do you think Violet will still be here to pick up the pieces? Or will she realize she deserves better?" His grin widened. "Like me."

My vision went red.

Before he could blink, my hand shot out, grabbing his collar and slamming him against the wall. The plaster cracked. His smirk didn't falter.

"You so much as look at her again-" I snarled, breath hot against his face. "-and I'll put you in the ground beside your sister."

Dominic chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, there's the Vincent I remember. Ruthless. Unhinged. Tell me-do you threaten every man who notices how exquisite Violet is? Or just the ones who make you insecure?"

My grip tightened. His smirk dared me to snap his neck.

And for the first time in a long time, I almost did.

"Careful, Centy, break too hard and even Violet won't want your shards".

Chapter Twenty: Ballad of Brokenness.

Violet Virgilson.

The safehouse was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that doesn't soothe-it suffocates.

Every tick of the old clock on the wall thudded in my ears like a countdown. Countdown to what? To Daigo's return? To Marco's next betrayal? To Vincent finally snapping and burning the whole damn city to ash?

The silence pressed in, dragging Marco's smirk back into my mind. That smile-the kind that says, I've already won.

And maybe he had.

Because no matter how many times Vincent growled his threats, no matter how many glasses he shattered against the walls, Marco wasn't afraid. He had chosen Caroline, and this time, there was no regret. No guilt. No hesitation.

He had traded us in like old currency, and Vincent's empire was bankrupt.

I hugged my arms around myself, pacing across the narrow room, my bare feet whispering against the cold tile. If I closed my eyes, I could still see Daigo tied to that chair in the warehouse, the ropes biting into his wrists, the blood on his lip. Daigo, who never flinched. Daigo, who never broke.

Where is he now?

The door groaned open, and I froze. My breath caught, waiting for Vincent. Or Marco. Or worse-Dominic.

But it was Daigo.

Two of Vincent's remaining loyal men staggered in, half-carrying him. He looked like he had gone ten rounds with the devil and walked away just to spite him. His shirt was torn, his knuckles split, and bruises climbed his jaw like storm clouds. But his eyes-sharp, stubborn, alive-met mine.

"Daigo!" I rushed to him, my hands hovering as they lowered him into a chair.

He waved me off, even as pain carved lines across his face. "Don't you dare cry, Violet. I'm not broken." His voice was gravel, but his pride was intact.

I bit down hard on my lip. "What did they do to you?"

He chuckled, then winced. "Caroline tried words. Dominic tried charm. Neither worked."

My stomach turned. Dominic.

I crouched beside him, studying the rope burns around his wrists. "You should be in bed, not making jokes."

Daigo's hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising strength. His voice dropped low. "Listen to me, Violet. Don't let them in your head. Caroline wants you to feel like a weakness. Dominic wants you to believe you're already his. Both of them-" his eyes locked onto mine "-thrive on your fear."

Heat pricked the back of my eyes. "Daigo, I-"

"You're not the burden," he snapped, fierce even in exhaustion. "You're the reason Vincent hasn't drowned yet. Don't forget that."

But the words only twisted tighter in my chest. Because wasn't I exactly what they said? The reason Vincent was unraveling? The reason Marco saw an opening? The reason Dominic smiled like a predator every time our eyes met?

Before I could answer, the door slammed again.

Dominic.

He leaned against the frame like he owned it, dark suit sharp despite the late hour, tie loose as though chaos was his favorite accessory. His smile was all teeth and amusement, the kind that could cut and caress at the same time.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Songbird looks even lovelier in candlelight."

My pulse jumped. I straightened, placing myself between him and Daigo instinctively.

"Get out." My voice came out harsher than I meant, but his grin only widened.

"Relax," Dominic purred, his gaze sweeping over me like a brushstroke. "I came to deliver a message. Daigo here-" his eyes flicked toward the bruised man, then back to me "-wasn't much fun. Too loyal. Too stubborn. Caroline lost interest."

"Go to hell," Daigo rasped, coughing blood onto the floor.

Dominic clapped slowly, mock applause echoing in the room. "Spirited. I'll give you that. But loyalty is boring, Daigo. Unshakable men are predictable men."

He stepped closer, ignoring my glare, his voice dropping into that infuriating velvet. "But you, Violet... unpredictable. You walk into a room and Vincent forgets how to breathe. I see it. Everyone sees it. You're not his weakness. You're his addiction."

Heat crawled up my neck, fury and shame tangling together. "Stay away from me."

He tilted his head, smirk sharpening. "Oh, I will. But only after I've had my fun."

Marco's laugh drifted from the shadows of the hallway. That smug, mocking laugh. He strolled in, hands in his pockets, bruises absent, betrayal worn like perfume.

"Don't waste your breath, Violet," Marco said. "Dominic doesn't leave what he wants. He circles it. Claims it. Just like Caroline." He leaned against the wall, eyes glinting. "You think you're safe? You're already theirs."

My throat tightened. For the first time, I had no words.

And Dominic-Dominic leaned in, lips brushing the air just above my ear.

"Careful, songbird. Broken men don't sing. And Vincent?" His breath was hot against my skin. "He's breaking."

---

Vincent Virenson.

Daigo's return was supposed to feel like a victory.

It didn't.

Yes, he was alive. Yes, he hadn't broken. Yes, he still snarled Caroline's name like a curse. But the moment I saw him stumble through that door, half-dead and grinning, I knew what Caroline's real play had been.

It wasn't to kill him.

It was to prove she could take him.

And she had.

I stood in the shadows of the room, arms crossed, watching Violet rush to Daigo's side, her hands trembling as she touched his bruises. Watching Dominic lean in like he owned her. Watching Marco-my Marco-laugh in the corner as though betrayal was a card game he'd just won.

My blood boiled so hot it was a wonder the walls didn't catch fire.

"Marco," I said, my voice low. Dangerous. "Still smiling after betraying me twice?"

He smirked, not even pretending guilt. "Business, Centy. You taught me yourself-no loyalty in this world. Just survival. Caroline offered more. I took it."

"More?" My jaw ached from clenching. "More what? More lies? More blood?"

He shrugged. "More future." Then he leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Face it, Vincent. You're finished. And when the dust settles, all you'll have left is her. Which makes her..." His gaze slid toward Violet, slow and deliberate. "...a very convenient target."

I snapped.

My hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "Say her name again, and I'll rip your tongue out."

Marco just chuckled, unfazed. "Touchy."

Dominic's laugh joined his, smooth and amused. "See, Centy? This is why I like her. She brings out the beast in you. Makes you sloppy. Makes you dangerous. Caroline doesn't even have to touch you. She just has to touch her."

I turned, fury blazing. "You so much as look at her again, Dominic-"

He stepped closer, smirk dripping arrogance. "And what? You'll kill me? Or will you watch her slip through your fingers like everything else you've already lost?"

The room pulsed with silence. Violet's breath hitched. Daigo muttered a curse. Marco smirked wider.

And I realized-Caroline's biggest scheme wasn't about territory. It wasn't about money. It wasn't even about Daigo.

It was about Violet.

She wanted me to see her as the burden. She wanted Dominic to circle her like a wolf. She wanted Marco to remind me that loyalty was a myth.

She wanted me to break.

And God help me, I was breaking.