Page 64 of Carved in Ruin

I stand and move closer, taking his hand in mine. His fingers are stiff at first, but I hold on. “I’ll take Ivan and Arkadi with me,” I promise. “And whoever else you want.”

“No.”

I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “You told me I just needed toinformyou, not ask for permission,” I remind him.

“And I told you I won’t let you put yourself in danger,” he spits back.

“What danger, Rafael?” My voice rises a little, my frustration matching his. “The guards there are already loyal to you. I’ll be takingyourmen with me. There is no danger. Please.”

He glares at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. Then his hand reaches out, fingers grazing my bottom lip. He tugs gently at the pout I didn’t realize I was wearing.

“Fine, just don’t pout.”

Something softens in my chest at the gesture, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

“You take six guards with you,” he hisses.

I nod at the unreasonable request. “Deal.”

I slide into the back seat of the car after I finish getting ready. Ivan is in the driver’s seat, Arkadi riding shotgun, and two other cars with Rafael’s men follow us.

When we pull up to the gates, I look at the mansion that once felt so large and untouchable. It looms cold and empty now, every stone mocking me for the years I spent convincing myself it was ever warm. The warmth had never been real—it was a delusion I built for myself.

One of the guards opens the gates, another nodding at Ivan to let us through. My pulse thrums harder as we pull in. The carstops, and I step out, the chill of the past pressing against my skin.

The front door creaks as it opens, and there he is—my father. His sneer is as sharp as ever, cutting through me. “You sure look happy,” he spits, his lip curling in disdain. “Is he treating you better than I did?”

I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms. “Nice to see you, Father,” I lie.

“What brings you here? Not here to see me, of course. Unbelievable. Ungrateful little brat.”

“I’m here to get the rest of my things,” I say flatly, stepping past him.

As I move, his hand reaches out, but before he can touch me, Ivan’s iron grip clamps down on his wrist. “Don’t even think about it,” Ivan growls.

My father yanks his arm back, cursing under his breath, but he doesn’t try again. I climb the stairs. The sound of a door slamming echoes, and I know he’s followed me up.

I peek into Layla’s room to say hi, but she isn’t there. I’m bummed, I really wanted to see her. In my old room, everything feels smaller. The bed, the walls, the memories—they suffocate me. I grab a suitcase, standing on my tiptoes to reach it from the closet’s top shelf. My hand brushes against something that doesn’t belong.

I freeze. My fingers trace it carefully, and when I pull it down, my breath hitches.

A camera. A fucking camera.

My blood turns ice cold, my heart hammering in my chest.How long has this been here?My mind spirals.

“Ivan,” I call out, unnaturally calm. “Please throw everything in the closet into the bag, can you?”

He nods, stepping into the room, and I step out. Needing air.

Somehow, my feet lead me to his office door. I don’t know why I stop there. I don’t even know what I think I’ll do. But then I hear him.

“Yeah, they’re just like their mother,” he says, his tone bitter, venomous. “Think they’re better than me.”

I press my ear to the door, my blood roaring in my ears.

“That motherfucker has her now, but I would’ve preferred her untouched. I was so damn close… then that bastard swept in.”

My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat.

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