Page 125 of Ruthless Regret

I don’t respond, just take the bag and head to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror stops me. Bruised, battered, but alive. I press my hand against the bandage, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots through my side. It’s a reminder of how close I came to losing everything—not just my life, but the chance to finally get revenge on the person who put me behind bars.

A rusty laugh escapes me.

Funny how that’snotthe person my original plan was focused on.

I turn away, and pull on the sweats and black t-shirt Rook packed for me. They’re comfortable, loose, and the least likely option to irritate the stitches in my side. But they still feel foreign after two days in a hospital gown. When I step back out, Rook is already on his phone, murmuring instructions to someone on the other end.

“You good?” he asks, ending the call. His tone is almost casual, but I know him better than that. He’s watching for any sign of weakness.

“I’m fine,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. “Let’s get out of here.”

He ignores me. “Knight’s been busy. Everything’s in place at the house. Cameras, mics—McFadden’s walking into a trap, and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Good. Can we go now?”

He flashes me a smile, and turns to the door. “What did the doctors say about you leaving?”

“Told me I should stay for longer. Told them I’m not dying, so I’m going home. Wasn’t much they could say to that.”

I follow him out of the room. The nurses barely glance at me as I pass by. Maybe they’re used to people leaving the hospital too soon, against medical advice. Or maybe the man in the suit,with the cold eyes, walking beside me has something to do with it.

The ride down the elevator is made in silence. Rook has never been a big conversationalist, even when we shared a cell, and my mind is too wrapped up in what’s coming.

This isn’t just about getting revenge anymore. It’s about survival. It’s about making sure McFadden never has the chance to hurt anyone else again.

The moment we step outside, the summer heat hits me like a wall. The sun is too bright, the air too thick with humidity. It’s a stark contrast to the sterile cold of the hospital. I squint against the glare as Rook leads me to the car.

It hurts to stoop and climb inside, but I grit my teeth and get as comfortable as I can, and Rook pulls out of the parking lot. I stare out of the window, my mind running through everything that’s about to happen.

When we finally pull up to the house, the sight of it sends a wave of nausea through me. The last time I was here, I was bleeding out on the kitchen floor. The memory flashes in my mind, vivid and brutal, but I push it away.

Rook kills the engine and gets out, surveying the area. I take a deep breath and carefully maneuver myself out of the car, wincing as the movement pulls at my stitches. The house looms in front of me, silent and waiting. I know what’s inside, waiting for me.

Ashley.

She’s been on my mind since the moment I woke up this morning, but I haven’t allowed myself to dwell on it. There’s too much at stake, too much that needs to be done before I can even think about how I feel when she’s around. But as I step up to the front door, the reality of seeing her again hits me.

The door creaks open before I can reach for the handle, and there she is, standing in the doorway. Her eyes meet mine,and for a moment, neither of us says anything. The tension between us is palpable. But it’s not filled with anger, or fear—it’s something else entirely, something I can’t quite name.

“Hi,” she says softly, stepping aside to let me in.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The sight of her standing there, waiting for me, stirs something deep inside me, something I’ve been trying to bury for days. But I can’t afford to feel anything right now, not while McFadden is still out there.

I step inside and Ashley closes the door behind us. Bishop is standing in the reception hall, and he nods to me, before walking past to talk to his brother in a low voice.

“You look a little better than you did yesterday.” Ashley’s voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure how I’m going to respond.

I grunt, and make my way past her, going through to the living room, where I drop down onto the couch with a wince. The painkillers they gave me at the hospital are already starting to wear off, but I’m not about to ask for more. I need my head clear for what’s coming.

Ashley follows me, then hovers in the doorway. I wave a hand toward the chair across from me, and she sits, folding her hands in her lap. The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?—”

“I’m fine.” She was about to ask if I’m sure about this. But I can’t let the doubt take root in my head.

She looks away, biting her lip. It’s strange, seeing her like this.Vulnerable. I’m used to her being defiant, fighting me at every turn. But this ... this is different.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

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