Page 42 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

My locker is just ahead, the clutter of books and papers a small comfort. I reach for the combination, the dull click of the lock loud in the empty hallway. But before I can pull it open, a voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and full of venom.

“Bitch.”

I freeze, my hand still gripping the cool metal of my locker door. I know that voice.

Jasper.

I turn slowly, my pulse quickening, but I can’t stop the chill that races up my spine as I meet his eyes. The usual swagger is gone, replaced by a bruised and battered version of the boy I once knew. His lip is split, tape over a crooked nose as if it was broken and a dark bruise colors his jaw, but the fury in his eyes is unmistakable. The injuries must have been horrible because Vincent beat him up almost two weeks ago, and he still looks like the fight was yesterday.

“Jasper,” I whisper, my breath caught in my throat.

“You think you can just walk away from me? Like I’m nothing?” His words are a hiss, each one punctuated with raw anger. He steps closer, his presence suffocating as he gets in my face, too close for comfort, his breath hot against my skin. “You think you can just ignore everything I did for you and go off with your perfect little life?”

My heart races. My hands start to tremble, and I step back, hoping he’ll get the hint, but he doesn’t move, his eyes darkening, narrowing.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he sneers, grabbing my arm roughly.

I try to pull away, but he holds me in place, his grip tightening, the pain shooting up my arm. My mind flashes to everything else—the boy in the art room, the slashes across his face—and the weight in my chest grows heavier. But before I can react, a voice rings out, low and commanding.

“Let her go.”

I don’t have to look to know it’s Damien. The way he says it—low, like a growl—sends a ripple of tension through the hallway. Jasper falters, but doesn’t back down, his glare shifting to Damien as he steps closer, almost challenging him.

“Stay out of this, asshole,” Jasper spits, his hand still clenching my arm like a vice.

I can feel the panic starting to rise in my chest, the pressure building, but it’s not just in my head. It’s physical. My vision starts to blur, the edges going soft as if I’m looking through a fog. My breath comes out in shallow bursts, each one harder to catch than the last.

Damien takes another step forward, his presence towering and unyielding. His voice drops low, cold as ice, and every word feels like a threat wrapped in steel. "Tell me, Jasper... how many times do we have to beat your ass to make you stop?"

Jasper stiffens, his eyes flicking to Damien, calculating the risk. But the fire in Damien’s gaze doesn't waver, his tone turning more dangerous with every passing second.

Jasper opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s sizing Damien up, clearly realizing that his usual bravado isn’t enough to mask the fear creeping into his expression.

“I don’t want to waste my time with you, but don’t think for one second I won’t,” Damien adds, his tone sharp enough to cut through stone.

Jasper’s jaw clenches, but his bravado is quickly evaporating. He steps back, hands slightly raised as if in surrender, but his eyes still burn with resentment.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Jasper shoves me back. My knees buckle, my vision going black around the edges as I stagger, trying to keep my balance. My chest tightens painfully, my breath shallow and erratic, and I clutch the edge of my locker for support.

“Willow?” Damien’s voice is sharp with concern, but it feels distant. Like it’s coming from somewhere far away.

I try to take a breath, but it feels like my lungs won’t expand, like there’s a weight pressing down on me. My heart is thudding in my ears, too fast, too hard, and every beat seems to send a pulse of pain through my chest. I gasp for air, my mouth dry, but nothing feels right. I feel dizzy, like I might fall at any moment, and the room spins wildly around me.

“Damien…” My voice cracks, a weak whisper, but he’s already there, his hands steadying me as the world tilts dangerously.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re okay, Willow. I’ve got you.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face, the cold sweat beading along my forehead, the panic rising like a tidal wave. My heart’s pounding in my ears now, too fast, too erratic. I try to steady myself, to calm my breathing, but it’s like I can’t. The air feels thick, almost suffocating.

Jasper’s voice is distant now, but I hear the accusation in his tone. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Damien snaps, his hand tightening around my wrist, pulling me back toward him. “You better watch yourself, Jasper.”

I can’t focus on anything but the suffocating tightness in my chest, the dizziness consuming me. I feel like I’m sinking, drowning, and I can’t catch my breath. My vision is starting to fade, the edges turning black and fuzzy.

“Willow,” Damien says urgently, his voice sharp, but it feels like I’m underwater, everything muffled. “You need to breathe. Focus on me. Just breathe.”

I try, but the air is thick, almost solid, making every breath a struggle. My chest tightens further, and the ache in my heart spreads like a fire. It feels like I’m drowning.

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