Page 43 of Carved in Ruin

She groans, covering her face with her hands again. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to feel something. Maybe I wanted someone to look at me the way Rafael looks at you. Maybe I was just being stupid and impulsive.”

I slump back in my chair, staring at the floor. “Layla…” I trail off, not even sure what I want to say.

“I know. I’m a mess, Mila. I just…” She hesitates. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Neither of us knows what to say after that. The silence stretches and it feels like I’m drowning.

She closes her eyes briefly as if summoning courage. Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she confesses, “I asked him to run away with me.”

My heart clenches violently. Too much. Too much is happening all at once. My fingers clutch at my chest, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of my heart. “What?” I croak.

“Somewhere far away,” she continues. “I told him we could leave everything behind—this life, all of it.”

“And?” My throat feels tight.

“He didn’t agree,” she murmurs, her face twisting with bitterness. “He wouldn’t even entertain it.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m in love with him.”

Oh, God. I glance at her, then away, then back again. We truly have the worst taste in men.

As if she hears my thoughts, Layla lets out a bitter laugh, wiping at her watery eyes before raking her hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face. “You were right, Mila,” she says hoarsely. “Rafael isn’t salvation. Marrying him would be moving into an even worse cage.”

Her shoulders are hunched as if she’s carrying the weight of the world. And maybe she is. Maybe we both are.

“The way he feels about you… it’s terrifying. Mila, he won’t stop. Not at anything. If it meant keeping you tied to him, he’d burn the whole damn world down.”

My breath catches, the gravity of her words sinking into my bones.

“But no matter how much he tries to deny it,” she utters, “he’d never let you burn. Everyone else? Everything else? They’ll all go up in flames. He’ll scorch the earth around you without hesitation, but you…” Her gaze locks on mine. “He’ll protect you, even from the ashes.”

She swallows hard. “And I don’t want to burn in his wake.”

She’s right. Rafael isn’t just dangerous; he’sdestruction incarnate.She got one thing wrong, though—he wouldn’t just burn me down; he’d reduce me to ash, mix me with his blood, and carve me into his veins so no one could ever take his plaything away.

Twenty One

The Ring and the Chains

Mila

The next morning, I sit at the breakfast table, picking at a plate of cut-up fruit. Layla sits beside me, her hands clasped in her lap like she’s praying for this meal to end. Across from us, our father devours his food like a man at his last feast, his expensive suit smeared with butter and jam. Bits of egg cling to his lapel.

“Eat well, ladies!” he bellows, his mouth half-full, raising a whiskey bottle to his lips. “Might be the last time you see a spread like this.” He gestures at the table with a wide sweep of his hand, nearly knocking over the pitcher of orange juice.

I chew slowly, stomach turning. The way his laughter bounces off the walls feels unhinged, like he’s on the verge of another breakdown. His eyes glint with insanity.

Ana enters with more trays, her face terrified as she sets down pies and pastries. Before she can leave, his good handdarts out to smack her ass. “Maybe I’ll get to enjoy you too before I can’t afford you anymore,” he slurs, laughing as Ana jerks away with her cheeks flaming.

My fork clatters against my plate. My entire body recoils, a shudder ripping through me. God. Poor Ana. She hurries out of the room without a word. I wish I could disappear with her.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he roars suddenly. “I spent good money on this food! Eat, damn it!”

Layla flinches and I freeze as his hand wraps around the neck of the whiskey bottle. He hurls it against the wall with a crash, shards of glass raining to the floor. His empty plate follows, shattering into jagged pieces that scatter across the hardwood.

I’ve had enough. I push my chair back, rising to leave.

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