Page 43 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

Then, a strange, terrifying sensation hits me. My heart skips, then slows. I gasp, but it’s not enough. My pulse is weak, slow—too slow. I can feel it sputtering, struggling to keep me conscious.

“Damien…” I whisper, the words barely audible. “Check my heart rate.”

Damien’s face hardens in an instant, but there’s panic in his eyes, something I’ve never seen from him before. “What the hell is happening?” he mutters, bending down to check my pulse.

His hand is warm, but the pressure against my wrist feels too weak, too erratic, and I can see his lips move as he counts, his eyes flickering to my face in concern.

After what feels like an eternity, Damien curses under his breath, frustration and worry clouding his features. “You’re bradycardic," he says, his voice thick with concern. "Your heart rate’s only 47 bpm. What the hell, Willow?"

I try to focus, my chest tightening, the world feeling like it’s spinning too fast. “Oh fuck. I need-”

Damien’s grip on me tightens as he pulls me closer, his expression darkening. “Doctors now.”

I try to steady my breathing, but the pain in my chest doesn’t lessen. The dizziness still swarms, and everything feels like it’s closing in on me. My body trembles in his arms, my head spinning, but his grip remains steady, supporting me like I’m the only thing that matters.

“Damien…” I whisper again, my voice barely above a breath. His hands slide to my back, pressing me close to his chest.

Damien’s grip is firm, but gentle as he picks me up, his arms steady around my waist. My vision is swimming, the world tilting in and out of focus, and his presence feels like my anchor to reality. The overwhelming dizziness is almost unbearable, and I can’t keep my breath steady enough to catch a proper inhale.

“Stay with me, Willow,” Damien’s voice is low, urgent. He’s trying to keep me calm, but his own concern is palpable. “I’ve got you.”

I want to respond, but the words feel too heavy, too far out of reach. Instead, I let him carry me, my head lolling against his chest. His heartbeat thunders against my ear, rhythmic and steady, but mine feels chaotic, like it’s trying to escape its own prison.

The hallway is a blur, and by the time we reach the nurse’s office, my chest tightens further. I can barely hold onto the threads of consciousness, and the last thing I remember is Damien settling me onto the cot before everything fades to black.

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As I slowly regain consciousness, the lights in the nurse's office flicker on, casting a dim glow across the room. A sharp scent of antiseptic tickles my nose and makes me want to cough. My head throbs with a dull ache, but at least the dizziness has subsided. In the background, I can hear the soft murmur of hushed voices, drawing me out of my foggy state. Struggling to focus, I force my eyes open and they immediately lock onto the figure beside me, their face etched with concern and worry.

Vincent. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, his sharp features twisted with concern. He’s watching me like I’m something fragile, his usual hard gaze softened with something unfamiliar—worry.

“Vincent?” I croak, my voice hoarse from the shallow breaths I’d been trying to take earlier.

He shifts, standing up slowly. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

I blink a few times, trying to get my bearings. The confusion lingers, and something is off. “How did you get in here?” I ask, my words still slow and heavy. “The nurse doesn’t just let anyone in.”

Vincent gives me a small, almost too casual smile. “Telling people I’m your boyfriend and flashing a thousand dollars gets you into most places.”

My stomach drops, the weight of his words catching up with me. “You—what?” I begin, but the confusion only deepens. “Why would you do that? How do you even...”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cuts me off, his voice firm. “The point is you’re okay now. That’s all that matters.”

I stare up at him, a swirl of emotions running through me. Part of me wants to be mad at him, or at least question him, but another part just wants to collapse against him and let the overwhelming feelings of confusion and exhaustion wash over me.

Vincent stays at my side, his eyes never leaving mine, silently waiting for me to settle. I feel a strange sense of security in his presence, even if I’m still reeling from everything. The panic that had gripped me earlier is starting to fade, but something else lingers—something I can’t quite put into words.

"How long was I out?" I ask, swallowing hard.

"Not long," he says, his voice steady but still full of that concern. "Just a few minutes. Damien had to leave—he had... things to handle." There's something unspoken in his tone, but I don't press him for more.

I nod slowly, glancing around the room. It's hard to process all of it—the worry, the near-blackout, and now Vincent's uncharacteristic kindness. Part of me wants to be annoyed, but a much bigger part is grateful he’s here. That thought only complicates everything more.

“I’ll make sure you get home okay,” Vincent adds, his eyes not leaving me. “We’re not letting you out of our sights today. Not after that.”

I shift uncomfortably, trying to find a more comfortable position on the cot, but my mind keeps racing. Vincent’s presence is almost too much, and the weight of the conversation I still need to have with him feels heavy in the air. My mind keeps circling back to what Damien had said earlier—about Vincent being in love with me.

I swallow again, clearing the tightness in my throat. "Vincent," I start, my voice quiet, unsure. "Damien... he said something earlier. About you. About how you're... in love with me." I can’t quite meet his eyes, afraid of what I might see there. Afraid of how it might change everything.

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