Page 62 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

I motion for the room to quiet, my gaze sharpening as I look at each face before me. “Get everyone in here,” I say, voice low but commanding. "It’s time for the inner circle to convene."

Minutes later, the room is filled with the familiar faces of my trusted men, all standing tall in respect—some with caution, others with anticipation. The weight of the room presses down on me, but I don’t falter. I stride to the center, every step purposeful, my eyes cold as I address them all.

“The Castillo name doesn’t die today. It’s my name now,” I declare, my voice unwavering. “And I’ll be damned if anyone thinks they can take us down without a fight.”

A few of the older members shift uncomfortably, but they know better than to challenge me. I take a slow breath, gathering my thoughts, trying to steady my nerves.

“You all know why we’re here,” I continue, my voice low and controlled, but the weight behind it is undeniable. “There’s a traitor in our ranks. Someone tipped off the FBI. We need to find them. And we need to do it quickly.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the group, but there’s uncertainty in their eyes. They’re wondering if I can pull this off. If I can hold everything together in the wake of this chaos.

I don’t give them a chance to doubt me. “We’re not backing down. We’ll fight this. We’ll rebuild. We don’t need my father to do that. We have each other. And we haveme.” I let the words hang in the air, the certainty in my voice unwavering.

Ricardo, one of the older cartel members, steps forward. He’s been loyal for years, and I trust him more than anyone in this room. “¡Viva el heredero! ¡Viva la familia!” he says, bowing his head.

I nod sharply, my gaze never leaving his. “¡Viva la familia!” I echo.

18

VINCENT

“Stop pacing the room, Princess.” I yawn, my body sprawled on the bed as I watch Willow’s pacing stirring up the dust on the cracked tile floor, her shadow stretching and shrinking with each step as the faint glow highlights the tension in her rigid shoulders and furrowed brow.

Her bottom lip is so bruised from gnawing on it that it looks seconds from bleeding. I prop myself up on my elbow, taking in the way her leg bounces like a restless metronome. She rubs the space between her thumb and forefinger repeatedly.

“I can’t stop,” she snaps, her voice trembling.

The underground safe house feels oppressive, its low ceiling and concrete walls pressing in like a heavy weight. The room is sparsely furnished, with a single metal-framed bed where I’m lying, the thin mattress creaking under my movements. A small, flickering lamp on a makeshift nightstand throws dim, uneven light across the room, leaving corners shrouded in darkness. The air smells faintly of damp cement and stale fabric.

“What happens if he got arrested?”

“His team will bail him out. He is clean for this very reason, nothing the cartel does can be tied to him.”For now,I add silently, because Cast was always next in line. His life was always going to be one of crime, we just thought we had more time before he had to be serious about the Cartel family. We thought he had more time for us, but now with the FBI I doubt it.

I flip onto my side to get a better view of her. She’s unraveling, and every second of it is painful to watch. “You’re not helping anyone by working yourself into a frenzy. Sit down, Princess.”

She lets out a frustrated huff, yanking her hair free from its ponytail. The strands cascade around her face, a wild halo framing her frantic energy. “I can’t sit, not until?—”

“Now, Willow,” I say, more firmly this time.

She hesitates, her lips parting as if to argue, but the weight of my gaze anchors her in place. With a defeated sigh, she perches on the edge of the bed, her hands wringing together in her lap.

I shift closer, my hand reaching out to still hers. The contrast of my calloused fingers against her trembling ones feels intimate, grounding. She looks at me with wide, glassy eyes, her vulnerability cutting deeper than I expected.

“What do you need to calm down?” I murmur, my voice softer now. I bring her hand to my lips, brushing a kiss along her knuckles before trailing a line up her arm. Her skin shivers under my touch, but it’s not enough to ease the storm in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“Sure you do,” I coax, my lips hovering near her shoulder now. “Tell me, Princess. What’s the one thing that will help you breathe a little easier?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. For a moment, I think she won’t answer. But then, in a voice so quiet I almost miss it, she says, “Seeing Cast again.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, heavy and electric. I press a lingering kiss to her shoulder, letting my lips linger there as her breathing hitches. Slowly, I move closer, my hand sliding to her jaw to tilt her face toward mine. Her eyes glisten, the rawness in them almost undoing me.

“When he is free, he will come to you, Princess.” I trail a finger up the curve of her neck, right along her spine, and she sighs.

“I just…I’ve never…and I don’t want him to be hurt.” She stutters, her eyes darting around the room and eyebrows twisted like she can’t understand the words coming out of her mouth.

I smile, pulling her down and into the curve of me where she fits perfectly. I smile against her shoulder. “Careful now, you sound like you want us,” I whisper, my voice rawer than expected.

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