Vengeful (Villains, #2)

by V.E. Schwab

While seeking revenge, dig two graves—one for yourself.

He hadn’t been asleep, she realized. Victor had simply been waiting for Syd to come home.

“Never underestimate an angry woman.” “Never underestimate a woman,” amended Rios.

Victor stared at the wall as if it were still a window. “He doesn’t know how patient you are,” he said. “Doesn’t know you like I do.” Eli cleaned the blood from his hand. “No,” he said softly. “No one ever has.”

Not a good photo, not a clear photo, but Eli would recognize him anywhere. Victor Vale.

“I’ll be back,” he said, turning toward the door. Sydney caught his arm. “Be careful,” she said. What a nuisance, Victor told himself, even as he rested his hand on her head.

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as her will warred with his, but Eli was loose, and Sydney was lost, and those two things made Victor immovable.

Victor had to take responsibility. For himself. And for the monster he’d helped to create. Eli.

His eyes met Victor’s, and for a second neither man moved. Run, thought Victor, and he could see the response in Eli’s coiled frame. Chase me.

Victor reached out and put a hand on her cheek, the gesture so strange, so gentle, it stopped her cold. “Syd,” he said, “look at me.” She met his eyes. Those eyes that after everything still felt like family, like safety, like home.