When the Villains Unite - Chapter 16: Trace (2) (M)

Acting instinctively, I strode over, snatched the glass from him, and set it down far away.

“You haven’t been coming home, and now this? What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“What does it matter to you?”

His words were clipped and dismissive. Without hesitation, he grabbed another bottle from the desk and began drinking straight from it.

I watched in stunned silence as the clear liquid disappeared past his red-stained lips. This wasn’t like him—not even close.

Regaining my composure, I quickly reached out and yanked the bottle from his grasp before he could finish it.

“Why are you acting like this?”

For a moment, Damian’s gaze locked onto the bottle in my hands with such loathing that it sent a chill down my spine. Then, without warning, he stood up abruptly.

The chair screeched as it was pushed back, toppling over as he rose to his full height, towering over me.

His sudden movement caught me off guard, and I instinctively flinched.

“Why did you come here? Couldn’t stay away?” His voice was low, filled with mocking venom.

“What?”

“You couldn’t possibly have any other reason for showing up, right?”

The bitter laugh that followed his words left me momentarily speechless. Every carefully thought-out sentence I had prepared dissolved into nothing.

Does he even realize what he’s saying right now?

My expression darkened with a mix of confusion and irritation. But as I looked closer, I noticed something: behind his cutting words and cold demeanor, his expression betrayed deep pain.

His lips curled into a twisted smile, one that was more sorrowful than spiteful.

“If I knew things would turn out this way,” he murmured, his voice trembling with bitterness, “I should’ve killed him then.”

“……”

“And now? What’s the point of coming here? What do you think you’re fixing? Huh?”

Fix what?

Before I could ask, Damian let out a humorless laugh, stepping closer. His hand reached out, grabbing a handful of my hair.

“Damian, let go!” I snapped, jerking away from his touch.

Under normal circumstances, I might have stayed still, knowing he’d never hurt me intentionally. But something about him right now felt dangerous, like the tension in the air could snap at any moment.

Unlike the drunken mess he had been the other night, this time he wasn’t stumbling—he was fully aware and in control, which made the sharp edge to his mood all the more unsettling.

Seeing me retreat only seemed to amuse him. His lips twitched into a cruel smirk as he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me forcefully onto the sofa.

“Ah—!”

The force of Damian’s grip sent me sprawling onto the sofa, and before I could recover, he loomed over me, effectively pinning me down.

Is this kid seriously treating his sister like a sack of laundry? I thought angrily. At least the sofa was soft, so it didn’t hurt much.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” I warned, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It was already too late the moment you walked into this room of your own accord,” he replied coldly.

“You keep saying things are over or finished, but if you think for a second that I—mph!”

Before I could finish my sentence, Damian silenced me. His lips crashed against mine, hot and unrelenting. The taste of vodka lingered on his tongue, bitter and burning, mixed with a faint smoky scent—was that tobacco?

He had completely gone off the rails, it seemed. Belhark may have been intense, but at least he hadn’t gone this far.

I pushed against Damian’s broad shoulders, shoving him away with all the strength I could muster. Though I managed to get some distance between us, my shoulders throbbed where his hands had gripped me tightly.

“Let me go and listen for a second—”

“Disappointed in me for killing someone? Can’t stand the sight of me anymore? If you’re going to spew that crap, just kill me already. Or should I just kill myself for you?”

Thud!

His words pushed me past the edge of rationality. Acting purely on impulse, I slammed my forehead into his chin.

The sharp sound of impact echoed in the room, and Damian’s pale skin turned red where I’d struck him. But I didn’t feel the slightest bit sorry.

Clutching his jaw in shock, he stared at me with a mixture of surprise and fury. I, in turn, glared back at him, unflinching.

“Don’t you dare throw around talk like that,” I hissed.

His words about death had struck a nerve, especially given everything that had happened recently. What kind of reasoning was this? To say something so reckless?

And yet, I knew what had brought him to this point. He wasn’t just talking about the Count’s death. He was dragging in everything—the months of torture, the brutality he and Belhark had inflicted. He assumed it was all too much for me to handle.

But so what?

I had known who Damian was long before all this. In the original story, he had been the Crown Prince’s loyal knight—unyielding, vicious when necessary. This was who he had always been, and knowing that, how could I be shocked now?

Murder was, without a doubt, the ultimate punishment—a judgment that should be reserved as a last resort. But as siblings, we had already reached a shared conclusion about the Count’s fate over the course of a decade.

“Do you remember what you said the night we escaped the annex, Damian?”

My voice came out lower, colder than usual. If he thought his threats would unnerve me, he was sorely mistaken.

“You told me that if I died, you’d follow me.”

“……”

“So now, are you saying that you’d—”

Before I could finish, Damian’s hand clamped over my mouth. He stared at me, his expression contorted with a mix of emotions I couldn’t fully decipher—but one stood out clearly: rage.

I had anticipated this reaction. I knew the moment I brought up those words, it would set him off.

But I didn’t care.

My own emotions were boiling over, twisting inside me with such intensity that tears welled up in my eyes. The frustration and anger coursing through me made it impossible to stay calm.

I thrashed against his weight, trying to free myself. At that moment, his eyes flashed, a brilliant swirl of blue and gold illuminating the room.

The sudden flare of light wasn’t difficult to identify—it was his aura, laced with an unmistakable bloodlust.

As his energy filled the office, I froze instinctively. The pressure was suffocating, a visceral reminder of his barely restrained anger.

Realizing what he had done, Damian quickly withdrew his hand and reined in his aura, but the damage was done. My body trembled uncontrollably from the lingering aftershocks of his outburst.

He doesn’t even intend to kill me—so why let his bloodlust spill over like that?

It wasn’t hard to see: he had completely lost control of himself.

And why is he acting like he’s the one who has the right to be angry here?

My frustration surged again, but it felt as though my voice was stuck, as if my lips were glued shut. I couldn’t force out the words I wanted to say.

“…Hah…”

“Go back,” Damian muttered coldly, his voice a low growl. “If you don’t want to see something you’ll regret.”

Tears streaked down my face, unbidden and uncontrollable. They weren’t from sadness but rather a physiological reaction to the intensity of his aura and the overwhelming frustration that he wouldn’t even try to have a proper conversation.

Go back quietly, without accomplishing anything?

No. If I was going to leave, it wouldn’t be without resolving this mess. A drawn-out waiting game wasn’t something I could endure.

But I wasn’t in the right state of mind to handle this delicately, either. My frustration and anger had completely overtaken my sense of calm.

“What now? Are you planning to kill me too?”

My words, aimed at Damian’s retreating figure, snapped the last thread of his patience.

In a flash, he was back in front of me, gripping my wrist with terrifying force.

“…Let go! That hurts!” I shouted, struggling against his hold.

“You should’ve listened when I warned you,” he growled.

“You’re the one crossing the line! Let go—wait, what are you—?!”

Before I could finish, he yanked me to my feet and slammed me against the wall.

The force of the impact left me momentarily stunned, the sharp edge of a bookshelf digging into my back. Even as my mind reeled from the shock, I felt his hand grab at the hem of my dress, nearly tearing it in his haste.

“Damian! Have you lost your mind?!” I yelled, panic and anger lacing my voice.

“If you went through all this trouble to come here, I might as well give you what you want,” he muttered bitterly, his expression twisted with fury and pain.

“What are you talking about?! When did I ever ask for this?!”

I gasped in disbelief at Damian’s actions, striking his shoulder with my fist and struggling desperately, but my already weakened body likely delivered little impact.

In an instant, his member tore through the dry entrance.

“Ahh…!”

The dry inner walls scraped harshly against the massive intrusion, a searing pain tearing through me as if my lower half were splitting in two. Without warning, I was stretched to my limit, my trembling body instinctively trying to adjust to the size, but it was impossible.

After two weeks of being tightly closed with no trace of anyone else, my unprepared body couldn’t produce enough lubrication for such an abrupt penetration.

As Damian’s length was mercilessly gripped by my insides, he let out a low groan.

“Haah… Hngh… Hah…”

“……”

Before I could even fully grasp the situation, Damian’s rough thrusts began, his hips pounding into me relentlessly. As my vision darkened, I could do nothing but surrender my body to him, choking out pained whimpers.

“Ahh! Ngh, ah—stop… pull out…!”

“Hah, judging by how tight you are, it seems you haven’t been pleasuring yourself alone during this time.”

Smack!

I slapped him across the face, my hand landing squarely on his pale cheek. The impact left a vivid red mark, and for a moment, he paused, staring at me with a cold expression.

As I instinctively shrank back under his piercing gaze, he seemed unfazed, as if it hadn’t bothered him at all. Without a word, he resumed moving his hips, continuing as though nothing had happened.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because of that. So stop resisting,” Damian sneered.

“Damian… ahng…!”

He smirked at my helpless reaction to the sudden intrusion, mocking my inability to handle it. Then, as if seeking revenge for the slap earlier, he brought his hand down hard on my rear.

Again and again, he struck, each blow landing with force, as though determined to make me loosen the grip of my trembling entrance around him. I could only gasp sharply, each sting of pain coursing through me, leaving me breathless.

As the pain spread and dulled, my strength gradually faded, but the sobs that escaped me, mingled with tears, only grew more intense.

“Nngh… sniff… I don’t want this…”

Despite my protests, Damian looked at me with a cold, detached gaze, relentlessly driving his length deep inside me, all the way to the end of my inner walls.

Without any lubrication, the raw sensation of his thick, ridged member against me was overwhelming. My hands and feet curled instinctively, and my legs gave out, my body collapsing several times under the strain. Damian, watching me crumble, clicked his tongue in irritation.

Then, without hesitation, he grasped my hips with both hands and lifted me, holding me firmly in place.

My trembling body was effortlessly lifted by his brute strength, my legs seemingly suspended in the air.

“Nngh… put me down… ahh…”

Damian’s member now plunged into me so deeply it felt like it reached my limit. I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to push him away, but he refused to allow it. Left with no other choice, I clung to his neck with both arms, helplessly holding on.

At least now, a trickle of fluids leaked from below, easing the pain somewhat compared to earlier. But what followed was an intense wave of pleasure that I couldn’t suppress—though it was anything but welcome.

Hearing the change in my voice, my moans now tinged with unwilling arousal, Damian smirked and mocked me.

“Look how beautiful you are, just lying there and crying like this, Sis.”

“Y-You bastard… ngh, haah…!”