Page 29 of Carved in Ruin

She knelt in front of the basement door, the one only the men could ever enter. They always told her and Rafael that if they ever played around in there, it would explode. They must have been kidding, she thought innocently. Her father had told her the door was special. It was locked, and that was fine. Because he’d also said to slide the spray under the door and just spray it a little.

Mila, her hand trembling slightly, aimed the bottle at the crack under the door and sprayed. It didn’t seem like much, but her father had said it would do something special.

“Just like he said,” she whispered, satisfied. “It’ll be nice.”

But as she stood up, the smell became almost too strong. She frowned, but shrugged it off. It was fine. She had done exactly what her father asked.

She ran outside, just like her father had told her to do, her chest swelling with pride. Now, she just had to wait for the ‘special thing’ that would happen.

She heard Rafael’s voice coming from the back garden. She could hear his singing and the thump of his footsteps. But this time, she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the mansion, waiting for what her father had promised her.

And then, it happened.

At first, there was a small crackle. Her eyes widened, and her mouth went dry as smoke began to curl up from behind the house. Something was wrong. The smoke thickened, turning from a little puff into a cloud. She could hear people yelling, but she didn’t understand. Why were they screaming?

She heard Rafael calling her name, his voice shaky and full of panic. “Mila! Mila!”

But the smoke kept coming, thick and choking. She coughed, her lungs searing, and then the heat hit her. It burned—too hot, too sudden. The mansion wasn’t supposed to be on fire.

Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled backward, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong. Her chest tightened, panic squeezing at her throat. This wasn’t what she had imagined at all.

She had only sprayed a little, just like her father said.

But why were people crying? Why were the flames so big?

Everything was chaos.

Fifteen

Jealousy Ignites

Rafael

Isit in Milos’ office, the air heavy with cigar smoke. The leather chair beneath me groans as I lean back. Milos drones on about the wedding plans, making my head hurt. Layla sits across from me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, but her eyes… they’re far away. She’s not here. Neither am I.

I’m in a different world—a world of her. Mila.

The memory of her tonight burns behind my eyes like a lit cigarette pressed into flesh. The way she sat there, poised, polite, indifferent. It made my skin crawl. She didn’t care. Not a goddamn flicker of jealousy in her eyes at the thought of me slipping a ring onto another woman’s finger.

Itshouldn’tmatter to me. I know that. But it does.

My jaw aches from grinding my teeth through dinner, through her smiles at Anatoly, through the way she tilted her head when she asked him to dance. That fucking smile. Like Iwasn’t sitting right there. Like I wasn’t the man whose hands had been on her, whose lips had devoured every goddamn breath she had to give.

She’s mine.

The fact she doesn’t think she has any claim over me? It’s maddening. Sheshouldfeel possessive of me, the same way I feel when I see her even glance at another man.

Anatoly. I wanted to snap his neck. She doesn’t know how close I was.

“…end of the month,” Milos says, cutting through my thoughts. I lift my gaze to him, but his words barely register. He’s talking about dates and timelines, and I don’t give a shit. I did this whole thing to punish Mila, to hurt her… But that isn’t the reason her indifference guts me.

Layla shifts in her seat, but her silence doesn’t bother me. I twirl the strand of hair in my pocket between my fingers. Mila is different. She claws her way into your soul, leaving scars in her wake. Layla for me, is just there.

“I’ll leave the finer details to the women,” Milos says, smirking like he’s cracked a joke.

I see her through the office window. Mila. She’s leaving the mansion. Where the hell is she going?

My body moves before my mind can catch up, pushing back the chair as I stand abruptly. Milos doesn’t even get the courtesy of an excuse as I leave, his words cutting off mid-sentence.

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