Villainous Threads Novels & Stories

"In that case, release the threads." Jaud simply smiled at Frank. "Come now, Mr. Lawrence. As a fellow mentor of martial arts, don't tell me you can't undo these threads?" Frank's eyes turned cool. "I warned you." He unleashed his vigor right then, leaving Yara horrified when she felt the blazing burst of pure energy behind her! Jaud pushed as well, his vigor colliding endlessly against Frank's on the threads! It was only then that Yara saw the crimson flash on the pure-white threads as vigor struck vigor on the threads as thin as hair.

If you fail. I feel it shaping my thoughts—planting seeds of doubt, of fear. I hesitate before moving. A moment. A heartbeat. And I see Cain’s reaction, instinctive, heartbroken. “You hear it,” he murmurs, voice trembling. “I feel it too. Don’t let it turn you against me.” The bond twists violently, screaming in response. A shard of crimson threads splits from it, coiling around my spine. My entire body shudders. The thread inside us hisses again. Yes. Feel it. Share it. Destroy them both from the inside.

A chant not for her, but against her. “Villainess. Villainess. Villainess.” Seren’s stomach turned to ice. They weren’t wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had just hijacked the heroine’s story. Kael leaned down, his breath hot against her ear, his voice pitched only for her: “Let them chant. A villainess…” His thumb brushed the line of her jaw, possessive and reverent. “…is far harder to forget than a saint.” The System hummed in satisfaction.

“You’ve been using this body for too long,his soul’s thread is dissolving.” I tilted my head. “It doesn’t matter. I only need him alive long enough for the story to end my way.” Her gaze flicked up at me,half amusement, half admiration. “Ever the strategist. One might almost mistake you for the villain of your own legend.” I smiled faintly, stepping closer to the slab. “Villains don’t crave what’s pure,” I said. “They destroy it. I intend to keep mine.” Kaela’s grin widened. “Ah, obsession,the language of kings and monsters.”

“Three. Enough to watch my world start to fall apart. Then you ghosted. Again.” On my right, the villain from “Threadcount”—the one I’d meant to redeem and never did—stood tall in his immaculate suit, threads of shadow crawling at his cuffs. In my head, he’d always been charming in a sharp, dangerous way. Here, the sharpness had turned inward; his smile was brittle, his eyes hard. “You made me a monster,” he said calmly. “Then walked away before you gave me a chance to be anything else.” Behind them, more shapes flickered.

Trending at the top: #Human-WerewolfRelationsCountdown# #SaveJamesonHeiress# #WolfKingFrederickVillainy# The internet was ablaze with outrage: [It's rape! Lock the Alpha King away!] [We have to fight! Stand up for human dignity!] Those comments made me feel so guilty I could barely breathe. If that turned into an all-out war, it would be over that ridiculous three thousand in "hush money." Then, a gossip forum post grabbed my attention: [Let's Think About It: Could They Be Into Kinky Role-Play?]

"That could hold a wolf and snap their spine only." I smirked. "Guess I’ll practice on you later." Her eyes flashed, but before she could retort, I turned to the next thing in the grimoire, creating a shield. The threads resisted at first, eager to cut, not cover. Like I was forcing them to do the opposite of what they were made of. I gritted my teeth, forcing the pattern I saw on the page into existence. My threads bent reluctantly, layering one over the other until they formed a thin, shimmering wall in front of me. It looked fragile, almost as delicate as a spider's silk.

The altar blinked once with light, and from it emerged three threads—gold, crimson, and black. The gold thread pulsed with warmth, the promise of restoration. A future where she reforged the kingdoms, brought peace, carried names that would be sung long after her death. The crimson thread burned with sacrifice—war, fire, the destruction of the gods and a world rebuilt in ash and rebirth. The black thread was silent but heavy, a thread that led inward, not forward—a choice to unravel all and return the world to its unformed beginning. Each thread tugged at something primal within her, demanding not just a decision, but belief. She couldn’t choose lightly. Every path would cost her something t

“You tried that once. And you failed. You called her Hollow. You called him Fallen. And yet… they still breathe. Still burn.” The thread in the Heartmirror pulsed again—brighter, faster. “This is the forbidden thread,” I told them. “Not forged. Not sanctioned. But chosen.” I met every gaze in the Circle. “And it has already begun to bind.”

That's what they all believed. It was reasonable for them to think that way. A spoiled wealthy girl and a naive innocent one. Who was the villain? Apparently, no one was on my side. People believe what they want to believe, and I was the one who got their anger. That was that. They couldn't be changed. But I did hold some grievances. I was pissed not because everyone hated me, but because of Annika Summers, the girl with an innocent face I used to take as my best friend.