Villainess.exe-Chapter 64: The Trap

[Evelina’s POV—Between Cars—Continuation]

I didn’t accuse him.

I didn’t raise my voice.

I did something far worse.

I waited.

"Rowan," I said lightly, not taking my eyes off the guard, "bring the first-aid kit from the trunk. Alina scraped her knee earlier."

Rowan’s gaze flicked to me and then at the guard, who was suspiciously too close to us, and his gaze didn’t leave Alina.

He understood instantly.

"Yes, Miss."

He moved—but not toward the trunk. He shifted position instead, cutting a subtle angle that boxed the guard in from the side. Theo noticed too. His body language changed—not aggressive yet. Focused. Like a predator lowering its center of gravity before the strike.

The guard smiled again.

Too fast.

Too practiced.

"There’s no need for that," he said. "The back car is safer. We should hurry. You will find a first-aid kit in there. That’s much safer, miss."

I stared at him and looked around. Surprisingly...no guards find him suspicious when they are trained and professionals. They can sense the danger, but they aren’t reacting.

Something is terribly wrong with all the guards here.

I looked at him and tilted my head. "Safer than standing next to Theo Vinter?"

Silence.

A fraction of a second too long.

The system chimed again in my skull—soft, cruel.

[System: DANGER—CONFIRMED. Surrounded by Cassian Vinter’s men.]

The warning pulsed behind my eyes like a heartbeat.

I tightened my grip on Alina. The guard’s hand twitched.

Theo moved.

Not shouting. No warning. No hesitation.

He scooped Alina up in one smooth motion, turning his body so completely around her that she disappeared against his chest.

"Are you hurt, darling?" he asked, voice low—steady in a way that felt impossible in the middle of a trap.

She shook her head quickly. "No, Uncle."

He kissed her forehead—gentle, brief, sacred.

"Good," he murmured. Then softer, almost playful, "Will you brace yourself for me? Uncle has to handle some bad guys."

Alina looked around. At the cars. The guns. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Then she nodded. "Yes, Uncle."

Theo’s eyes lifted. They landed on the guard.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

He extended his hand. "Car keys."

The guard smiled—too calm, too confident. "Let me take Miss Alina to—"

Theo stepped forward.

"I. Said." His voice dropped, each word carved in iron. "Give. Me. The damn. Car keys."

The guard swallowed.

He knew. He knew Theo Vinter had already decided how this would end. The keys were placed in Theo’s palm.

Theo didn’t thank him.

He opened the back car, set Alina inside with careful hands, adjusted her seatbelt himself, and leaned in close.

"I’ll be back soon," he said. "Don’t open the door for anyone but me."

She nodded again, fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. Theo closed the door. Locked it from the outside.

Then—He stepped back.

Reached behind his back.

Pulled his gun.

And—BANG.

The sound split the air.

The guard’s head snapped back as the bullet punched straight through his forehead. He dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, his body hitting the asphalt with a hollow, final thud.

Silence.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then—everything exploded.

Shouts. Guns lifting. Metal screamed as weapons were cocked and aimed. Every remaining guard turned. Every barrel pointed inward.

At us.

At Theo’s.At Rowan.At me.

A perfect circle.

A killing field. Theo straightened slowly, smoke curling from his gun. He glanced around—counting. Measuring. Smiling.

"Oh," he said lightly, "so that’s how many of you he sent."

Rowan stepped closer to me, voice low and lethal. "Miss... this wasn’t planned overnight. This formation—these positions—"

"I know," I said calmly.

My fingers slid to my own weapon. I drew it. Checked the weight.

The balance.

The certainty.

"This is a long game."

Rowan’s jaw tightened. "Then this is only the opening move."

Theo glanced back at us, grin sharp and feral.

"Looks like it," he said. Then his gaze settled on me—slow, appreciative. "Still standing. Still calm."

I smirked.

"Don’t worry," I replied, lifting my gun. "I’m damn good."

His eyes darkened with approval.

"I know, babe," he said softly. "Just remember—"

The guards tightened their circle. Fingers curled on triggers. Theo’s voice dropped to a whisper meant only for me.

"We don’t beg. We don’t run." I met his gaze. "We survive."

The first bullet screamed past my ear.

I dropped.

Not ducked—dropped, letting gravity do the work as glass exploded above my head. Theo fired at the same time, his shot clean and precise—one guard down before the echo of the first gunshot even faded.

"Left flank," Rowan snapped.

I rolled, came up on one knee, and fired.

BANG.

A man fell, clutching his throat. Another raised his gun—Rowan was already there. He didn’t waste bullets.

He closed the distance.

A crack of bone. A knife flashed. Blood sprayed hot and sudden as Rowan twisted, stole the man’s gun mid-fall, and fired point-blank into the next guard’s chest.

Theo laughed.

Not loudly.

Not madly.

A low, vicious sound that crawled up my spine. "Cassian really should’ve sent better men."

He walked straight into gunfire. Bullets tore through the air around him—too slow, too sloppy. Theo moved like he already knew where every shot would land. He fired twice without looking.

Two heads snapped back.

Bodies hit the ground. I emptied my magazine.

Click.

No pause.

I dove for the nearest corpse, ripped the gun from limp fingers, and rolled behind a car as bullets chewed through metal.

"Reloading!" I shouted.

"I’ve got you," Theo replied calmly.

He stepped into my line of fire, back to me, coat flaring as he shot over his shoulder. A guard tried to rush him—Rowan intercepted.

Rowan didn’t shoot.

He broke the man’s arm, used it to pull him closer, and fired the stolen gun through the man’s ribs, using his body as a shield as three more bullets tore into it.

Rowan shoved the corpse aside and kept moving.

"This is Cassian’s style," Rowan said, breath steady. "He floods the field. Hopes we drown."

Theo fired again.

"Bad choice," he replied. "I don’t drown."

I popped up, firing in bursts now—controlled, economical. Every shot counted. Every hit was lethal. One guard tried to flank us from the rear.

I saw him too late.

Theo didn’t. A bullet tore through the man’s knee. He screamed. Theo walked over, grabbed the man’s collar, and pressed the gun to his forehead.

"Tell Cassian," he said softly, "this is what happens when he touches what’s mine."

Then...he smirked, "Oops, I forgot...you cannot tell him. My bad."

And then...BANG.

The screaming stopped.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Breathing.

Smoke hung low over the asphalt. Bodies littered the ground—twisted, broken, unmoving. Rowan checked the perimeter first, gun raised, eyes cold.

"Clear," he said.

I leaned against the car, chest heaving, blood spattered across my sleeve—none of it mine.

Theo looked at me.

Really looked.

A slow smile curved his mouth.

"Still standing," he said.

I wiped blood from my cheek with the back of my hand. "Told you. Damn good."

He chuckled, low and pleased. Then his gaze flicked to the locked car.

"Alina."

He moved fast, holstered his gun, and unlocked the door. Alina launched herself into his arms the second it opened.

"It’s okay," he murmured, holding her tight. "Uncle’s here."

She buried her face in his chest. Rowan reloaded from a fallen guard, movements smooth. "This was an execution squad."

I nodded. "And a message."

Theo looked over Alina’s head at me, golden eyes burning.

"Good," he said quietly. "Send one back."

The war hadn’t started tonight. Tonight was just the proof. And standing there—blood on my hands, gun still warm—I realized something terrifying:

I wasn’t afraid.

I was exactly where the game had always meant me to be.

Near the deleted male lead.

Fighting with him.Fighting for him.

Until the bond formed.Until the route completed.Until I went home.

Back to my quiet, lonely, painfully ordinary life. Still the best life.

I exhaled slowly and looked at Theo.

"So," I asked, voice calm despite the carnage around us, "what are you going to do now?"

He turned to me, one brow lifting slightly. "What do you want me to do, babe?"

I hummed, pretending to think while bodies cooled at our feet.

"Maybe," I said lightly, "it’s time you stopped only reacting."

Theo stilled.

"Meaning?" he asked.

"Until now," I continued, "Cassian sends assassins to kill his own daughter, and you play shield. You protect. You clean up the mess."

I tilted my head. "Why not... return the favor, with interest?"

For a moment, Theo didn’t speak. Then—A small voice cut through the tension.

"Aunty?" Alina looked up at me from Theo’s arms, golden eyes too old for a child her age. "Are you going to kill daddy?"

I blinked.

Once.

Then I crouched slightly so I was at her eye level. "Children shouldn’t eavesdrop on adult conversations, Alina."

She pouted.

"But I see people dying every day," she said matter-of-factly. "It’s my daily schedule."

. . .

. . .

Silence.

Not awkward. Not shocked.

Utter.

Crushing.

Theo closed his eyes. Just for a second. When he opened them again, something was different—regret, sharp and raw, cutting through the steel.

"I should’ve been more careful," he said quietly. "From the beginning."

I straightened. The mood shifted—darkness tightening, resolve replacing shock. Then Theo looked at me again.

Really looked.

A slow smile curved his lips, dangerous and deliberate.

"But..." he said softly, "...you’re right. Let’s do what you said, babe."

The words landed like a declaration.

Not a threat.

Not a promise.

A decision.

Cassian Vinter wanted a war fought in shadows. Theo Vinter would answer in fire. And standing there—between blood, bullets, and a child who had already seen too much.

I was someone ruthless enough to stand beside him.