Page 45 of Carved in Ruin

Rafael leans against the table, his expression mocking. “Mmh, you weren’t so smart with your bank transactions, let’s say. Some accounts may already be under investigation… for laundering.”

The blood drains from my father’s face. For the first time in years, decades maybe, he looks thoroughly defeated. Not angry, not brash, not full of empty bravado. Just… beaten.

Rafael watches him crumble, a slow, predatory smile curling on his lips. “Checkmate,” he murmurs, sipping the whiskey again.

“I can offer you that,” he continues casually. “I can stop the investigation. Keep you out of a cell.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Your daughter.”

Father’s laugh is sharp, bitter. “You’re already going to marry her.”

Rafael clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Not Layla.”

The room freezes. My father’s face flushes a deep, ugly red. Layla gasps, her hand flying to her chest. And me? It feels like the world has stopped spinning.

“What the actual fuck?” I blurt.

“No!” my father screeches. His face contorts in fury as he points at me. “She’smine.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, the temperature in the room drops. Rafael’s entire demeanor changes. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down with an eerie calm. He stands, looming over my father, and the menace in his voice is a dark promise.

“Don’t.” He spits. He steps closer, forcing my father back against the chair. “She’s not yours. Neverbeenyours. And she willneverbe yours.”

They’re having a pissing contest over me while I’mright there. It’s not a conversation, it’s a bidding war, and I’m the fucking prize.

My father turns his head toward Layla. He points at her like she’s cattle. “She’s sufficient,” he says, his chin tilting toward her. “She’ll fit you perfectly. Leave Mila to me.”

Rafael doesn’t even glance her way. His hand lashes out, grabbing my father’s jaw in an iron grip. The sound of bones grinding fills the room as Rafael squeezes. My father gags.

“Let me make this very clear,” Rafael growls. His words are a guttural snarl. “I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to reclaim what’s always been mine, Milos. And you already know that, don’t you?”

Rafael’s grip tightens, and I swear I hear teeth crack. “It’s simple,” he continues. “I marry her—which, by the way, I don’t need your permission for. I’m just giving you the illusion of a choice.” He taunts. “Or… you go to jail. And I’ll take her anyway.”

My father’s silence stretches. Rafael tilts his head, feigning patience. “Tick-tock, Milos. Tick-tock.”

Finally, my father breaks. “She’s yours,” he heaves, the words torn from him.

Rafael releases his grip on him. He wipes his hands on a napkin, like my father was just a bug in his way.

I look at Rafael, and all I see is the embodiment of everything I’ve ever loathed and everything I can’t seem to let go of.

“Are you done?” I ask them.

No one answers.

I laugh, my chair scraping against the floor as I stand. “Good. Becausehell no. I don’t want to marry you.”

His gaze burns through me, a possessive heat that makes my skin prickle. He doesn’t just exist in this space—hedominatesit, like he’s carved out every corner to suit his will.

“Too bad. You’re mine.”

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as my chest tightens with rage. He’s so damn sure of himself, so sure of me, like this is all inevitable. Like he’s already won.

“Get over yourself,” I snap. “I don’t want this. I don’t wantyouanymore, not after all this.Have some pride, Rafael. Get that through your thick skull.” I jab my finger against his temple.

He looks away, tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s barely holding back.

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