Page 48 of Ruin

Please, please let Ruin be okay, she begged silently, picking up the pace.

As they hurried down the winding corridor, movement in her peripheral vision had her whipping around, bringing her pistol to bear on… nothing? Her brow furrowed.

The sounds of combat started up again, making her jump. Pulse fluttering like a trapped thing, she swallowed and forced her feet to carry her onward, toward the blasting of weapons and grunts of exertion.

Toward Ruin.

When they reached the end of the corridor, she and the bot flattened themselves against the wall and snuck a quick look into the open space beyond. Bursts of blaster fire illuminated the darkness in blinding flashes, giving her disjointed glimpses of the fighting.

Struggling to focus past the bright spots left behind from those flashes, she searched for Ruin’s familiar pale skin and dark tattoos.

She saw Hush first, caught in a brawl with two mercenaries. The Drifter was a blur of crimson skin and flashing blades, his prehensile tail snapping out to knock a pistol from one's hand while he slashed his knife across another's throat in a spray of scarlet.

Scanning farther right, she sucked in a breath. There.

Ruin was locked in vicious hand-to-hand combat with a mammoth Voragon. Despite the Vor’s superior size and strength, Ruin fought with ruthless efficiency, his blows precise and calculated to inflict the most damage.

The violence and intention in his movements, not to hurt, but to kill, was simultaneously arresting and a little shocking to witness.

When he’d rescued her, he cut through Vargot and his guards like a laser scalpel through flesh. It’d been so quick and effortless, she hadn’t truly appreciated just how deadly he really was.

Instead of inspiring fear, seeing exactly how lethal he was filled her with a potent sense of security.

This beautifully monstrous male was her haven, the one place in the universe where she felt safe.

Movement from the corner of her eye had her whipping her head around. An injured assassin stepped into view, gun raised.

Lira didn’t need to follow his line of sight. She knew immediately who he had in his crosshairs.

Without thought or hesitation, she brought up her own gun and activated the trigger.

The Vor’sbody crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud, half his skull now missing. In almost the same moment, a single shot echoed through the warehouse.

He spun around, gun up and finger on the trigger, but it wasn’t a merc.

Standing in the mouth of the corridor, the bot by her side, stood Lira.

Perhaps even more shocking was seeing a little mag-coil pistol clutched in her hands, still aimed at the crumpled figure lying motionless not ten feet away from her. How in the thirteen hells had she found that gun amidst the plethora of others he had in that room? The guns were deceptively powerful, considering their size, and damned hard to get ahold of. He was absolutely positive that one had been at the bottom of a crate. The bot had to have found it for her.

He flicked a glance at the dead assassin, the Nyxian he thought he’d taken out with a grenade, then back to Lira. Fierce pride surged through him, followed immediately by a sickening dread.

She'd just killed to protect him. His sweet, delicate, little human had just taken a life. Because of him.Forhim.

His heart clenched painfully.

She blinked a couple times, then lowered her arm and turned, her gaze unerringly finding his.

He braced for shock, for horror, expecting those beautiful green eyes to be swimming with tears and full of blame for putting her in this position.

Instead, her lips split in a wide smile full of pride.

Lifting her free hand, she made a fist, with her little thumb pointed straight up at the ceiling. The gesture, while unfamiliar to him, was so fucking adorable he almost couldn’t stand it.

Godsdamn.

Realization slammed into him with such force it stole his breath. He was hopelessly, irredeemably, in love with her.

Love wasn't something he'd ever expected to feel, not in his line of work, not with the life he led. But there it was, unfurling in his chest like a supernova, filling every corner of his being with warmth.

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