Page 27 of Carved in Ruin

I need to get out. I mutter some excuse about needing the bathroom, but really, I just need to escape for a second.

The hallway is my only moment of peace—but it’s fleeting. Before I can even reach the bathroom door, someone shoves me inside. My back hits the wall as the door locks behind me.

I look up, my breath caught in my throat. Rafael.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I spit, not caring about the danger in his eyes. I don’t care how much bigger, stronger, or more terrifying he is.

He grabs my arms, his grip too tight. “Why the hell are you so okay with all of this?” he barks.

I freeze, thrown off by his words. He looks angry, like something’s burning him up inside. But this isn’t just anger. Thisis…something else. He wants to hurt me, humiliate me. And he’s pissed that I’ve just accepted the news.

“Why would I care?” I force the words out. “It’s not like we have any claim on each other.”

He laughs, but it’s sick. Mocking. “Why should you care?” he repeats, like it’s a joke. “My lips were on yours. My fingers were inside you a day ago, Mila.”

I shiver, the memory flooding my thoughts, but I don’t let him see how much it messes with me. “You’re so crass,” I hiss, trying to push it all away.

He doesn’t back off. He steps closer, his body heat overwhelming me. I can feel the space between us disappearing, every inch of my skin hyper-aware of him.

“Why don’t you care?” he stresses.

I move in, close enough that our noses touch. “Because you aren’t mine, and I am not yours.”

His fist slams into the counter next to us, and I roll my eyes. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

“Why do you want to hurt me?” I yell.

“Because it’s all because of you,” he spits, his words like a venom I can’t escape.

“All because of me?” I ask, confused, my heart slamming in my chest.

“You were the reason the fire broke out that day. Mila, YOU. It was you who set the fire at your father’s request. It’s how that fucker bypassed security.”

My legs give way, and I stumble backward, collapsing to the cold bathroom floor. The nausea hits me like a freight train. No. No, that can’t be true. I don’t remember. I can’t remember.

He stands cruelly over my kneeling form. “You ruined me, Mila. You took away my father. You betrayed the Bratva. Your loyalty was with that prick, not to me.”

I curl into myself, my hands shaking. My thoughts spin out of control, crashing together in a whirlwind of guilt, fear, and regret. I hurt so many people. I hurt him.

I don’t remember any of it. Not what happened. Not the fire. Not what I did.

But he wouldn’t lie about this. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Your sorry means nothing.”

I stand up shakily, desperate to keep some control. I grab his shirt, pulling him toward me. “I was nine,” I shout, my voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t even fucking remember.”

He just watches me, unmoving, like I’m not even there.

“I know what I did was horrid,” I say. “But I was nine! I didn’t know any better. I was just doing whatever Father told me to do.”

I feel the panic building, but I don’t stop. “Maybe, just maybe, I’m not an evil person. Maybe I was just fucking nine.”

But he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t react. He just watches me fall apart.

I reach out to point at him. “But you…” I breathe. “I’m an idiot.”

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