Page 12 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“I prefer brat.” Damien mumbles which only makes me want to pull my hair out, but instead I flip him off.

Vincent’s hand slides over my middle finger, slowly putting my finger down. “Not right now, Princess. You’re already in so much trouble.”

I yank my hand back, glaring at Vincent. “Trouble? For what? Not bowing down and calling you my kings?”

Cast chuckles from his corner of the room, leaning casually against a desk. “Not a bad idea, actually. Shall we add that to the list, Damien?”

Damien looks up from his binder, his sharp, disinterested gaze meeting mine. “Wouldn’t hurt. She needs structure.”

My fists clench at my sides as I take a step back, my body colliding with the closed door. “I don’t need anything from you. If this is your idea of intimidation, you’re wasting your time.”

Vincent’s lips press into a thin line as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “This isn’t about intimidation, Willow,” he says, his voice calm but laced with authority. “It’s about reminding you of your place. You signed a deal with us. That means you’re part of this, whether you like it or not.”

“I didn’t agree to be harassed,” I snap, meeting his gaze head-on even though my knees feel like they might give out at any second.

“No,” Vincent agrees, his tone colder now. “But you agreed to follow our rules. And disappearing for three days isn’t following the rules.”

“ I didn’t disappear for three days.”

“No,” Damien drawls, flipping another page of his binder. From the X’s and O’s it looks like his hockey binder, filled with plays that he’s studying for. “You just cowered and ran away from us.”

I take a step forward, the fire in my veins roaring to life. Damien’s smug expression fuels the inferno building inside me, and I open my mouth, ready to snap back at him. If he thinks he can call me a coward and get away with it?—

Before I can get a single word out, Vincent’s hands slide around my waist, pulling me back against him. The heat of his touch ignites a whole new kind of fire, one that rushes across my hips and leaves my thoughts in a tangled mess.

“Easy, Princess,” Vincent murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “No need to lose your temper. Especially when you’re in the wrong.”

My body stiffens at the intimacy of his hold, my words dying in my throat. The fight I’d built up moments ago falters as my senses are overwhelmed by the weight of his arms and the scent of him—clean and sharp, with a hint of something dangerously intoxicating.

Damien’s laugh is low and cutting as he rises from the desk, the binder tucked under one arm. He moves with a deliberateslowness, each step reverberating against the polished floor until he’s standing in front of me. His sharp, calculating gaze pins me in place, making me feel like a chess piece caught in his intricate game.

“You signed a deal, Willow,” he says, his voice deceptively smooth. “But clearly, you need a more... formal arrangement.”

Before I can respond, he pulls a crisp document from the binder and unfolds it with a snap, holding it up so I can see the official seal at the top. My heart sinks as I skim the bold letters:AGREEMENT OF SUBMISSION AND COMPLIANCE.

“You can’t be serious,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.

“Deadly serious,” Damien replies, his tone laced with finality. “This ensures there’s no more confusion about your role. You’re ours, Willow. Until graduation day. No running, no hiding, no defiance. You’ll adhere to our rules, and in exchange, we’ll ensure... everything stays in balance.”

My fists clench so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. “You can’t just force me to sign that.”

Damien raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a cold smile. “Force? No. Persuade? Absolutely.”

Vincent steps closer, his towering presence making the walls feel even tighter. “Think about it, Princess. This protects you as much as it binds you. Step out of line, and we could ruin you in ways you can’t even imagine. But with this”—he gestures to the document—“you’ll have clear boundaries. No surprises.”

Cast lets out a low whistle, his grin smug as he leans back against the desk. “It’s a win-win, really. You get to keep playing nice, and we get to keep our pawn on the board. Everyone’s happy.”

For a moment, the air feels too thick to breathe. My mind races, weighing my options. Signing would be giving them more control, binding myself to their twisted rules. But refusing? How can I refuse? The money is gone. I can’t go back on this.

My stomach churns as I glare at the paper Damien holds out to me. “I need time,” I say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong. “That contract is like thirty pages.”

Damien’s eyes narrow, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Time? You don’t have time. You have now, besides, you already agreed to everything in here. It’s just written out.”

“I doubt I would agree with everything in there.” I snarl.

“Trust me, Princess. There is nothing in there that you wouldn’t give willingly.” Vincent says, pushing me closer to the desk while Damien holds the paper and a pen out to me. I don’t know if it is the new nickname, or the sureness in Vincent’s tone, but out of everyone here I trust him not to make me regret it.

“Is there anything in here that says you can kill me?” I question.

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