Page 63 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Don’t tell anyone.” She coughs out, a chuckle on the edge of her voice, but she swallows it.

“It’ll be our little secret, Princess.”

She shifts in my arms, her body melting into mine like she was made to fit there. Her breathing evens out, the tension in her frame slowly unwinding as exhaustion takes over. I keep my hold on her loose but secure, my fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm. Within moments, her soft, steady breaths tell me she’s fallen asleep.

I don’t move. I can’t. Instead, I lie there, staring at her. The way her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips part ever so slightly, the way she seems so peaceful in sleep—all of it grips me in a way I don’t fully understand. She’s beautiful, but it’s more than that. She’s mine, even if she doesn’t fully realize it yet.

My chest tightens. I know I have wanted her from the start, before the contract, or the heart transplant—ever since the day I saw her eating an apple and reading under a tree during lunch period. She ignored all the girls around her, totally engrossed inThe Outsiders.A book I’ve read a thousand times since. I wanted her not just because she’s gorgeous, not just because she’s fierce and infuriating and impossible to ignore. I want her because she has this blinding light that I am drawn to. A light I want to burn me alive from the inside out. I want her because she makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. She makes me feel good, and I have never beengood.

I tuck a hair behind her ear and she wiggles against me. I have to do everything not to get hard. I don’t want my dick waking her up today, one day sure but today I am only scared of losing her. Losing this. Everytime I look at her I can’t stop thinking about what will happen when this is over. When the contract is fulfilled, when she doesn’t have any more debt? The thought sends a cold wave through me. I’m terrified she’ll run for the hills, that she’ll leave and never look back. And why wouldn’t she? What do I have to offer her, really?

Then I think of her confession, the way she said she wanted Cast. By extension, she wants us. She’s starting to see it, starting to feel it. It’s not much, but it’s enough to give me a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll look back. Maybe she’ll realize that this—what we have—is worth staying for.

I tighten my hold on her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep well, Princess,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “I’m not letting you go.”

She groans, turning in my arms and burrowing in my chest. I slowly fall asleep to the light thrum of her snores.

Hours later, a knock at the door wakes me. I carefully slide out from under Willow, tucking the blanket around her before moving to answer. When I open the door, Cast stands there, his expression calm but his eyes gleaming with something darker I can’t quite name, but I know nothing good comes from Cast which doesn’t mask his darkness. There is a reason most are afraid of sociopaths, and it’s this look that makes everyone, even me run from Cast.

“It’s all clear,” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “You two can head home.”

I glance back at Willow, still asleep, her face soft and peaceful. “What happened?” I ask, stepping aside to let him in.

Cast steps inside, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Willow. There’s nothing gentle in the way he looks at her now. It’s raw, hungry—like a predator eyeing something it already owns. He moves to the bed and, with careful precision, lifts her into his arms. The reverence in his touch contrasts sharply with the madness simmering in his eyes. To him, she isn’t just a person; she’s a prize, a treasure he’s unwilling to share.

“She’s lighter than I thought,” Cast murmurs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “So delicate. Yet she fights like hell, doesn’t she?”

I grit my teeth but say nothing, my fists clenching as I watch him cradle her with one arm like she’s the most fragile, preciousthing in the world. He looks down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that feels wrong, too deliberate. “You’re looking at the new king of the Castillos,” Cast says, his tone laced with deranged pride.

The weight of his words sinks in, but it’s the way he says them—like his new title gives him even more claim over her—that makes my stomach churn. “King, huh? That was quick.”

“It had to be. No room for doubt or delay.” Cast’s gaze doesn’t leave Willow, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw possessively. “Let’s move.”

The tunnels leading out of the safe house are dimly lit and eerily quiet. Cast cradles Willow effortlessly, his grip firm and unyielding, like he’s daring the world to try and take her from him. Her head rests against his chest, her breathing soft and even. I walk ahead, flashlight in hand, illuminating the path through the narrow corridors. The air smells damp, the faint echo of our footsteps the only sound.

“She’ll be alright,” Cast mutters, almost to himself. “Better than alright, once she’s where she belongs.”

I don’t respond, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. Whatever he means by “where she belongs,” I don’t want to know.

We reach the exit, where Ricardo waits with the town car. The moment we step outside, the cool night air hits us, a stark contrast to the stale atmosphere of the tunnels. Ricardo grins as he opens the car door, his voice ringing out in the night.

“¡Viva el rey!” Long live the king.

Cast chuckles, shaking his head. “Enough of that, Ricardo. Let’s just get out of here.”

He slides into the car with Willow still in his arms, settling her gently against him like she’s a precious artifact. I follow, closing the door behind us as Ricardo starts the engine. The hum of the car is soothing, a strange comfort after the tension of the safe house.

Willow stirs, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Cast. “Hi,” she murmurs sleepily.

“Hi, Cariña,” he replies softly, his voice dripping with fondness. His hand brushes over her hair, the touch too possession to be comforting. “Go back to sleep.”

She smiles faintly, her eyes already closing as she nestles closer to him. By the time we reach my house, she’s sound asleep again, her head resting against his chest. Cast’s smirk lingers, his gaze daring me to challenge the claim he’s so clearly staked. I give him a smile instead, because as much as she is his, she is mine and he knows that.

As soon as the car comes to a stop in front of my house, I step out and open the door on Cast’s side, careful to keep my face neutral despite the seething frustration bubbling under my skin. “I’ll take her,” I say curtly, reaching for Willow.

Cast hesitates, his grip tightening for the briefest moment before he smirks and relinquishes her. “Handle her carefully, Vincent.” His words seem ominous as he closes the car door.

I don’t dignify his comment with a response, cradling Willow against me as I turn toward the house. She murmurs something unintelligible, her face pressing into the crook of my neck. Fora fleeting moment, the feel of her in my arms drowns out the residual tension with Cast.

---