The Villains Must Win-Chapter 91: Valerian Cross 11

Valerian’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "No. It’s my duty. Yours is to stay normal—to stay safe. I won’t allow you to be dragged into this world."

But she already is, Evelyn thought. Still, she chose to stay silent, savoring her breakfast with a satisfied smile as she enjoyed the sibling drama unfolding before her.

Stephany’s delicate face twisted in frustration, her fists clenching on the table. "No, brother. I will learn. You can’t keep me sheltered forever. I was born into the Cross household. This is my world too, whether you like it or not."

For the first time, a shadow of uncertainty flickered in Valerian’s gaze.

Evelyn merely watched, amusement curling at the edges of her lips. Oh, how interesting this family was.

And how deliciously tangled things were about to become.

Valerian sighed and dabbed a napkin over his lips before fixing his sister with a serious stare. "What are you saying now, Stephany? Since you were young, you hated these kinds of things. You always said you were scared of them and wanted nothing more than to be a normal girl. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Because she’s in love with a vampire.

Evelyn thought this but chose instead to take a slow sip of her tea, her lips curving into a knowing smirk as she watched the exchange unfold.

Stephany looked away, her fingers tightening around the hem of her dress. "I just . . . well . . . I was immature back then. It’s different now." She lifted her chin defiantly. "I want to know about them."

"No." Valerian’s voice was final, the weight of command pressing into the space between them. "All you need to know is that they’re dangerous. And you should stay away from them."

"You can’t keep me away from them forever, brother! I’m old enough to learn our family’s ways now."

"Really?" Valerian raised a skeptical brow. "Because last time I checked, the only knife you’ve ever mastered is a butter knife. You can’t even chop an onion without cutting your hands."

"I just need practice!"

"No means NO."

Stephany’s face twisted in frustration, and she slammed her palm against the table, the porcelain teacups rattling from the force. "I hate you!"

Then she stormed out, her heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded into silence.

Valerian merely exhaled and took another measured sip of tea, unfazed.

Across from him, Evelyn let out a soft chuckle. "You spoiled her rotten, I see."

"She will understand, eventually," he muttered. "What I’m doing is for her own good."

"Really?" Evelyn arched a perfectly shaped brow, her amusement growing. "If I were you, I’d throw her straight into the forest, let her spend a night with the creatures she’s so eager to learn about. She wouldn’t be so fascinated once she saw what real monsters look like." She took another sip of tea. "Sheltering her like this will only make her more reckless."

Valerian’s gaze darkened, the temperature in the room seeming to drop a degree. "Don’t lecture me on how to raise my sister." His voice was quiet but carried a dangerous edge. "She’s the only family I have left. The reason I work myself to the bone—to make this world livable for her, to keep her safe." His fingers curled around his teacup, the ceramic threatening to crack.

"You know, I’ve always believed that humans are the greatest danger in this world," Evelyn countered, her tone light but pointed.

Valerian clenched his jaw, irritated because—annoyingly—she wasn’t entirely wrong. "Why am I even bothering to explain this to you? You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have a family."

Evelyn merely gave a slow, elegant shrug. "You’re right. I don’t." A pause, then a smile. "But I do have memories."

Valerian frowned as Evelyn leaned back against her chair, swirling the contents of her teacup lazily before continuing, her voice deceptively light.

"I never knew my father, but apparently, he was a warlock, a male witch. My mother, though . . ." She exhaled a short, humorless laugh. "Now she was a real piece of work. She wanted a witch-child for my blood. You see, an innocent witch child’s blood is rare, potent—it amplifies magical potions beyond measure. So, she decided to get pregnant and have me . . . as nothing more than an ingredient."

The room fell eerily silent.

"Her obsession with power is what got her killed in the end," Evelyn added, voice almost too casual. "Hunters—like you—came for her, and that was the end of that Chapter."

She took another sip of tea, as if reliving a memory both bitter and long accepted. "I was adopted by a human family after that. A nice old couple. But they didn’t live long. And no human wanted to do anything with a witch. So, back to the forest I went."

Valerian had been prepared for a thousand things—but not that. For a rare moment, he found himself at a loss for words.

"I’m sorry to hear that," he said at last, though the words felt inadequate.

Evelyn shrugged again, her smile tilting. "It happened a long time ago. Maybe that’s why I prefer humans over my own kind." Her voice softened, almost wistful. "They may not live long, but at least they love while they do."

Valerian’s throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say. He had never bothered to understand witches before. Never cared about their lives beyond the danger they posed. And yet, here sat one in front of him, telling a story he never imagined hearing.

Evelyn caught the fleeting emotion in his expression, and her lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Is that pity I see, Cross? Are you pitying a sinful witch like me?"

Valerian’s spine straightened, and he scoffed, clearing his throat. "Not at all. I don’t care about witches."

His words were firm, but he wasn’t sure if he believed them anymore.

Evelyn only smiled knowingly, her eyes dancing with something wicked. She didn’t call him out on the lie. Instead, she merely watched him in silence, letting the weight of unspoken words settle between them like the lingering scent of tea and fading embers.