Page 76 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

The words loop in my head like a song I can’t turn off, each repetition louder and more intoxicating. My cheeks warm as the realization settles over me—Cast must have sent them. This is his way of finally acknowledging what I’ve been to him, what I could be.

Not just a pawn. Something more.

I clutch the note to my chest, grinning so wide it almost hurts. Without another thought, I slam my locker shut, startling Ricardo, who steps closer like he’s ready for an attack.

“Relax,” I say, breezing past him with a bounce in my step. “I’ll be back.”

He follows, of course, his boots heavy on the tile floor as I weave through the crowded hallways. I don’t care about the stares or the whispers. My head is buzzing, my pulse thrumming with excitement.

When I finally push open the doors to the bleachers, the cool air hits my face, clearing some of the fog of my giddiness. Cast is there, of course, sitting on the top row like he owns the whole world, a joint hanging loosely between his fingers. Smoke curls lazily around him, the scent earthy and sharp.

“Cast!” I call, my voice carrying across the empty space.

His eyes flicker down to me, green and sharp, narrowing slightly as I bound up the steps two at a time. By the time I reach him, I’m breathless, but I don’t stop.

Without thinking, I drop the note and the flowers on the bench beside him and throw my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his. He stiffens at first, startled, but he recovers quickly, his free hand gripping my waist, pulling me closer.

“Thank you,” I murmur against his mouth, my words tumbling out in a rush. “For the flowers. And the note. I knew you saw me, Cast. I knew it.”

He pulls back, his brows furrowing as he looks down at the bouquet and the note. For a moment, he says nothing, his face unreadable. Then, he takes another drag of his joint, exhaling the smoke slowly before speaking.

“Willow,” he says, his voice low and measured. “I didn’t send those.”

The words hit me like a slap, and I blink at him, confused. “What? But… who else would?—?”

“Not me,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His gaze shifts to the flowers, sharp and assessing, before he grabs the note and reads it again. “And it wasn’t any of the guys either. Trust me, I’d know.”

My stomach twists, the giddiness evaporating like smoke. “But…” I trail off, my voice shaky. “Then who?”

Cast flicks the joint to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. His expression darkens, his jaw tightening as he pulls out his phone.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, his tone clipped as he types out a message. “We’ll find out. In the meantime, you’re not moving without one of us, got it?”

I swallow hard, my pulse racing for entirely different reasons now. “But what if?—”

“No ‘what if,’ Willow,” he snaps, his eyes locking onto mine. “This isn’t a game. Whoever sent this isn’t playing around.”

He stands, pocketing his phone and signaling to Ricardo, who’s already at the base of the bleachers, watching us like a hawk. Cast turns back to me, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“Stay close,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “You don’t take a single step without one of us there. Understand?”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, rough kiss to my forehead before stepping back. He picks up the note again, his fingers tightening around the paper until it crumples.

As he stalks away, I sink onto the bench, staring at the flowers as dread creeps in, cold and unwelcome. The lilies that had seemed so beautiful just minutes ago now feel like a warning.

Cast’s fingers fly over his phone as he walks away from the bleachers, his usual swagger replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. I glance at Ricardo, who is stone-faced and silent, standing just a step behind me like a living shadow.

“Damien,” Cast growls into the phone, his tone a razor-edged command. “We’ve got a situation.”

He pauses, listening, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. “No. This isn’t subtle. Someone’s making moves, and they’re using Willow to do it.” His eyes flick to me briefly, and I can see the tension carved into every line of his face.

Another pause. Then, “Meet me in twenty. Bring everyone.” He hangs up without waiting for confirmation.

When Cast turns back to us, his expression is unreadable, but his energy feels like a storm about to break. He points at Ricardo. “You’re glued to her. Not an inch of space. Not for a second. If she needs to go somewhere, you’re there. Understood?”

Ricardo nods sharply, already stepping closer to me.

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