"Thus I Clothe my Naked Villainy
{Prologue}
VESPER
They say the first kill changes you. That something inside breaks.
But me?
I didn’t break.
I bloomed.
He was screaming—gurgling, choking on his own blood, drowning in the same arrogance he wore like cologne. The knife in my hand wasn’t made for killing. It was small, delicate, probably stolen from a dinner tray. But when I pressed it under his ribs, I made it sing.
He thrashed. His breath turned to wet gasps, his limbs jerking like a puppet with its strings cut. His suit was custom. His ring was heavy. His life was expensive.
But in the end, he died like any other man—begging.
And I watched him die, unblinking.
Because this wasn’t just a murder. It was a message.
They thought they could sell me like currency, chain me in silk and vows, make me smile pretty for power. They thought they could turn me into something soft.
They were wrong.
The girl they tried to cage died in that room.
What rose from her ashes was vengeance.
Let them come.
Let them try.
I’ll carve my name into every corpse they send.
SETH
She looked like war in human skin. Drenched in blood. Smiling like it was lipstick.
They dragged her body out of that room like she was the victim.
She wasn’t.
I watched her on the screen. Security footage I wasn’t meant to see—but my brother believes in power, and power thrives in fear. What better fear than a girl who kills her own fiancé with a steak knife and doesn’t flinch?
I should’ve felt disgust. Maybe awe.
But what I felt was hunger.
Not the kind that lives in your stomach.
The kind that rots your soul.
She was chaos. Poison. Fire wrapped in flesh. Her eyes were cold. Her hands were steady. She looked like every man’s downfall and every sinner’s prayer.
And still, I wanted to touch her.
To see if her skin burned.
To see if her heart beat.
To see what it would take…
To make her look at me the way she looked at death.
Tell me—
What kind of man falls for the storm that’s meant to drown him?
