Page 31 of Carved in Ruin

But before he can even take a step, Layla’s hand snakes out, wrapping lightly around his forearm. She glances up at him, her grip lingering a second too long. Her gaze flickers briefly, hesitation, something unspoken, and then she turns to Mila. “How about you take Rafael, Mila? If it’s safer…”

Interesting.

I catch the subtle shift in Anatoly’s posture, the way his eyes dart to Layla’s hand before she lets go. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s there. Something.

“No,” Mila snaps, cutting through whatever moment just happened.

She strides toward the car, yanking the passenger door open and sliding in before I can say another word. Anatoly takes the driver’s seat without hesitation, the picture of composure, but I see the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As the car pulls away, I stand there, watching, my blood boiling. Mila’s taunt echoes in my head.Are you jealous?

Hell yes, I am. But the worst part? She knows it. And she’s using it against me. My plan backfired. It’s me burning now, not her.

Layla clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Um… how about we discuss the wedding a bit more?”

Good God. The last thing I want to do. But I nod, gesturing for her to go on. She just watched me unravel over her sister. The least I can do is humor her, I suppose.

We head to the living room, and she pulls out her phone, scooting closer on the couch to show me a series of venues.

I can’t even pretend to care. My eyes drift to the window, to the door, to anywhere but her.

She sighs, setting her phone down. I feel her staring before I turn to meet her eyes.

“When are you going to stop pretending you’re not in love with her?” she asks quietly.

Everything in me stills.

“Stop with the nonsense,” I say flatly.

But she doesn’t back down. “You look at her like she’s your enemy, but you love her. Anyone can see it.”

I lean forward, locking eyes with her. “And what makes you think I look at her like she’s my enemy?”

Layla bites her lip. Then, in a barely audible voice, she mutters, “I overheard your conversation in the bathroom.”

The words barely land before I’m on her. My hand snaps to the gun at my side, pressing the barrel to her temple. Her breath catches, and her lips part in a soundless gasp.

“I’m not an easygoing man, Layla.”

“I—I know,” she stammers, her body trembling under the pressure. “Please… forgive me. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

It’s the fact that she looks so much like Mila that makes me pull the gun away. Layla exhales shakily but doesn’t move.

“Why don’t you learn to forgive her?” she whispers. “At least her. She was young, naïve. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, dark and humorless, filling the space between us. Layla flinches, her shoulders curling inward like she’s trying to make herself smaller.

“Forgiveness isn’t in my nature,” I say, leaning back, the gun still in my grip. “And I’m not your salvation, Layla. I’m going to destroy all of you.”

Sixteen

Pinky Promises

Young Mila sat on the grass, her legs crossed beneath her as she twirled a forkful of spaghetti. She glanced up at Rafael, her mouth full, before leaning forward a bit too much and almost dropping her plate.

“Steven did something today,” she said suddenly. “He tried to kiss me in class.”

Rafael, who was sitting across from her on the porch steps, made a face, his mouth still half-full of spaghetti. “That’s yucky,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You shouldn’t do that.”

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