02/04/2025
VENGEANCE & VELVET 💔💔
CHAPTER 18 – COLLISION
Lena’s POV
Lena’s heartbeat roared in her ears, but her face remained impassive. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
Vincent stood in the doorway, his presence suffocating, his gaze searing into hers like a brand. He hadn’t just found her—he had broken in.
She should have been terrified.
She wasn’t.
Because despite everything—despite the venom between them, the fire of their destruction—she had expected this.
She had wanted this.
Lena took a slow step forward, the silk of her robe whispering against her skin. “Breaking and entering, Vincent?” she murmured, her voice smooth as glass. “How desperate.”
His lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Desperate?” His eyes dragged over her, dark and unreadable. “No, sweetheart. I’m just done playing your game.”
He kicked the door shut behind him with a slow, deliberate motion. The soft thud reverberated through the penthouse, final, absolute.
Lena’s fingers curled slightly at her sides, but she forced herself to stay poised. He wants to rattle you. Don’t let him.
She lifted a brow. “You found me. Congratulations. Now what?”
Vincent took another step forward, closing the space between them. “Now,” he murmured, voice dark as sin, “I remind you exactly who you’re dealing with.”
Vincent’s POV
Lena smelled like a challenge.
A mix of expensive perfume, defiance, and something far more dangerous—the ghost of the past, curling between them like smoke.
Vincent could taste it.
She stood her ground, but he saw the flicker in her eyes, the slight rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twitched for just a second before stilling.
She was playing the same game.
But this time?
He wasn’t following her rules.
Vincent tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You really thought you could erase yourself? Disappear?” His voice dropped lower, silk wrapping around steel. “Did you think I wouldn’t tear the city apart to find you?”
Lena exhaled sharply, something flashing in her gaze—something raw and electric. “And what, exactly, are you planning to do now that you have?”
Vincent smirked, slow and deliberate. “Depends.”
He reached out, fingers brushing her chin, tilting it up just slightly.
Lena didn’t pull away. She didn’t even blink.
But he felt the tension coil in her body, a wire wound too tight.
“Depends on what?” she asked, her voice even, but he
The kiss was fire and destruction, a war waged with teeth and desperation.
Lena’s hands fi**ed in Vincent’s shirt, the weight of years pressing between them—anger, lust, hatred, the past clawing at them like ghosts refusing to be forgotten.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore.
She wasn’t the broken thing he had left behind.
And while he was lost in the storm, she was still in control.
With a sharp inhale, she twisted her wrist, slipping a cold, thin object from the silk belt of her robe.
Vincent didn’t realize what was happening until the blade pressed against his throat.
The shift was immediate.
His body stiffened, muscles locking as Lena pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.
Her lips were swollen, her breath ragged—but her grip was steady.
And the knife in her hand? Deadly.
Vincent’s eyes flickered, not with fear—but something else. Amusement. Interest. Obsession.
"Lena," he murmured, his voice dark, rich, a velvet promise of sin. "Are you really going to do this?"
Lena tilted her head, pressing the blade just a fraction deeper against his skin. "I already have," she whispered.
Vincent smirked. "Then do it."
A test.
A challenge.
Lena's grip tightened, her heartbeat steadying. "You don’t get to decide how this ends, Vincent. Not this time."
She felt the exact moment the shift happened—when realization slid through him like ice.
This wasn't just a game anymore.
She had been playing him.
And he had let her.
Vincent exhaled slowly, something sharp flashing in his eyes. "What have you done?"
Lena stepped back, lowering the blade but keeping it in her grasp. "I made sure you would lose."
The sound of sirens split through the silence.
Vincent’s head snapped toward the window, the red and blue lights painting the penthouse in flickering shadows.
He turned back to her, something unreadable in his gaze. "You called them."
Lena smiled—a slow, victorious curve of her lips.
"I didn't have to," she said softly.
A sharp knock echoed through the room. "Vincent Crowne!" A deep, authoritative voice rang out. "Open the door!"
Vincent didn’t move.
For the first time, he was the one frozen.
Not out of fear.
But because he finally understood.
Lena had won.
She had been setting him up from the moment she walked back into his life.
Every mistake he had made. Every moment he had spiraled, clawing for control.
She had been watching.
Waiting.
And now?
Now, she had all the proof she needed to bury him.
Vincent’s gaze darkened. “You planned this.”
Lena stepped closer, her fingers brushing the collar of his shirt—mocking the intimacy he had once used as a weapon.
"Of course I did," she whispered. "Did you really think I came back just to watch you suffer? No, Vincent." She smiled, slow and dangerous. "I came back to end you."
Another knock. Louder this time.
"This is the police! Open the door now!"
Vincent’s hands clenched at his sides.
He could fight. He could run.
But neither would change the inevitable.
Lena had played the long game.
And she had won.
His lips parted, something dark slipping from his voice. "You really hate me that much?"
Lena’s expression didn’t waver. "I did."
Something flickered between them—something raw and bitter and too complicated to name.
And then, quietly, she added, "But not anymore."
Vincent stilled.
That was the real punishment.
Not the loss of his empire. Not the humiliation.
But this.
Lena standing in front of him, victorious.
Lena, free.
And him, realizing—too late—that he had never truly wanted to destroy her.
He had wanted her back.
And now, he had lost her forever.
Vincent Crowne never lost.
But tonight, he did.
With a slow, measured breath, he turned toward the door.
And opened it.
The cops moved fast, voices sharp, hands gripping his arms as they forced him to the ground.
But Vincent didn’t fight.
His gaze remained on Lena.
And for the first time in his life—
He regretted everything.
Lena
As they dragged him away, Vincent kept his eyes on her.
But Lena didn’t move.
She didn’t falter.
Because the past was over.
And she had finally won.
THE END
