The Villains Must Win

Chapter 367: Alistair Cain 27

"I was the one who kept my distance," Yuki said, her voice steady despite the tension coiling thickly around her. "It was him who continued to approach me."

There was no tremor in her tone. No hesitation. Only truth—blunt and unadorned.

Had Selene not known that Yuki was the female lead of this wretchedly predictable narrative, she might have admired her without reservation.

Yuki did not yet feel the mate bond. Her wolf lay dormant—sleeping deep within her blood, unawakened, silent. No scent of a shifted she-wolf clung to her skin. No power stirred in her veins.

But she knew.

She knew the bond existed.

And Roger felt it.

Even if Yuki did not.

That, it seemed, was enough to ignite fury.

A low ripple of growls spread through the gathered she-wolves. Shoulders stiffened. Nails sharpened into claws with faint cracking sounds. Their patience thinned to something brittle and dangerous. They were not moments away from reprimand—

They were moments away from violence.

Not because of what Yuki had done.

But because she attracted Roger and a lot of potential male leads’ attention.

Selene leaned slightly forward where she crouched behind the manicured hedge, anticipation curling pleasantly in her chest.

Ah.

This was familiar.

Scenes like this were beloved by readers. Overused, predictable, deliciously dramatic. The ostracized heroine cornered by jealous rivals. The threat of claws and blood. And then—

Rescue.

This was precisely the moment when the male lead would arrive.

Or perhaps the second male lead.

Or, for dramatic flourish, even the villain.

Selene’s lips curved.

Right on cue—

The air shifted.

It was subtle at first. A change in pressure. A thinning of sound. Authority did not announce itself loudly; it bled into the garden like ink dissolving into water.

Footsteps approached along the stone path.

Measured.

Unhurried.

Confident.

Of course.

Selene’s smile widened.

The plot was finally moving.

But to her distinct disappointment, the figure who emerged through the silver-lit archway was not Roger.

It was Alistair.

And beside him—

Another vampire.

Tall. Pale beyond mortal fairness. His hair fell in silken strands of white tinged faintly with blue beneath the moonlight, as though frost clung permanently to him. His eyes were crimson—not the muted red of hunger, but something deeper. Colder. Aristocratic.

He was strikingly handsome.

Much like Alistair.

Selene straightened imperceptibly, her interest sharpening.

Cassian.

The system flickered faintly before her eyes, confirming the name.

Noble vampire. Ally to Alistair. Potential love interest.

Ah.

Another one.

Come to think of it, Alistair walked just slightly behind him—as though allowing Cassian to address the disruption first.

He was never one to insert himself into other people’s business.

"You are blocking the path," Cassian said.

His voice was smooth and glacial. The sort of cold that did not bite sharply, but settled over one’s skin and refused to leave.

It rivaled Alistair’s detachment—though where Alistair’s indifference felt innate, Cassian’s seemed deliberate.

Selene had always liked pale, white-bluish haired men. There was something dangerously beautiful about them—especially when paired with crimson eyes.

And being a vampire?

An added indulgence.

Still, her target remained Alistair.

Her objective was clear: elevate him. Ensure his victory.

Guide the narrative in his favor.

Cassian was merely a second male lead.

Too bad he wasn’t the villain.

Though, considering how many "male leads" seemed to be materializing lately, Selene wondered dryly whether villains might soon multiply just to balance the scales.

The she-wolves stiffened.

Georgina’s lips peeled back in a snarl, but even she did not dare lunge. A hiss escaped her throat, sharp and resentful. One by one, claws retracted. Fangs dulled.

They stepped aside.

They knew better.

Noble lord vampires were not prey to be challenged lightly. Only alphas—or exceptionally strong betas—could hope to rival them.

Cassian’s gaze swept across the group.

It was enough.

The garden fell silent.

Georgina spat at Yuki’s feet before retreating. "This isn’t over."

Then they were gone, their resentment trailing behind them like smoke.

Yuki stood still for a breath longer, as if ensuring they truly meant to leave. Then she turned, intending to depart as well.

"You."

Cassian’s voice halted her mid-step.

She paused and faced him without flinching.

Selene nearly rolled her eyes.

Of course.

The second male lead would take interest.

Cassian approached Yuki slowly, circling half a step closer as though inspecting something rare.

His ruby gaze sharpened.

"You do not have a scent," he observed.

Selene exhaled sharply through her nose.

No scent? Truly?

Was it because Yuki had not yet awakened her wolf?

Plot armor, she concluded.

Thick. Impeccable. Impenetrable. Female lead plot armor!

If it was another girl she was sure that Cassian wouldn’t throw a glance.

It was definitely the female lead plot attraction.

"What is it to you?" Yuki replied coolly. "I do not recall ever knowing you, vampire."

Bold.

Reckless.

Impressive, perhaps—if one ignored the glaring imbalance of power.

Selene smirked.

For a she-wolf unable to shift, Yuki possessed an audacity bordering on foolishness. Did she not understand that these were noble vampires? Lords of ancient bloodlines?

Or perhaps she relied entirely on the invisible shield the narrative wrapped around her.

Cassian’s lips curved faintly.

"Are you always this spirited?" he asked lightly. "Isn’t she interesting, Alistair?"

His severe expression softened by a degree.

Selene stiffened slightly.

Ah. There it was.

Interest.

Cassian was hook, she was sure of it.

But Alistair—

Alistair barely spared Yuki a glance.

His amber eyes skimmed over her once, devoid of curiosity, devoid of hunger. Then, without warning, his gaze shifted.

Directly.

Toward the hedges.

Toward the precise patch of shadow where Selene crouched.

Her breath caught.

Had he—

No.

She had concealed herself carefully.

Surely—

"We should go," Alistair said calmly.

His tone was flat. Disinterested.

He turned and began walking ahead, as though the entire confrontation had not merited more than a passing interruption.

Not interested in the unshifted she-wolf.

But at that moment, Yuki had clearly followed Alistair with her gaze. Curios, perhaps.

But Selene knew better than to dismiss it as a fleeting exchange.

Whatever it was—romantic tension or something far more dangerous—it would not remain insignificant.

Alistair was not merely a passing character in this world. He was one of its central shadows. A man who stood firmly within the ranks of future villains, whether he chose that path willingly or was driven there by fate.