Page 85 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

My chest tightens as I stare at the words. The excitement I felt earlier when I opened the email twists into something heavy, something close to dread. I haven’t told them. Haven’t toldanyonebut Jasmine, and I only told her because she got rejected last night and asked what my letter said.

Vincent. Cast. Damien. What would they say if they knew? How would they react?

I exhale shakily, leaning back against the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, flushed and raw, still caught in the aftermath of too much and not enough.

RISD is a dream I’ve fought for, the future I thought I wanted more than anything. But now, all I can think about is how much it would cost me to leave.

And the weight of it feels unbearable.

26

WILLOW

Itwist another curl into place, pinning it back to frame my face. The sight in the mirror catches me off guard. The girl staring back looks confident, glamorous even. I almost don’t recognize her.

The gold shimmery dress hugs my body perfectly, the fabric catching the light with every subtle movement. It’s strapless, with a sweetheart neckline that accentuates my collarbones, and a flowing skirt that flares out slightly at the waist, cascading to the floor like liquid sunlight. Tiny sequins are embedded in the fabric, giving it a starry effect as they glimmer in the warm glow of the room.

I run my hands down the skirt, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and take a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to prom,” I mutter to myself, adjusting a loose strand of hair.

The thought feels surreal, almost like stepping into someone else’s life. This isn’t just any prom—it’s my prom. A night that seemed impossible a few weeks ago. And I’m not going alone. Cast and Vincent insisted, of course, their arguments charming and relentless. And then there’s Damien. I’m not even sure he’llshow up, but the hope lingers in my chest, making my pulse quicken.

I picture them: Cast’s playful smirk as he teases me about how he’ll be the best-dressed guy there, Vincent’s steady confidence as he insists he’ll make sure tonight is unforgettable, and Damien—his quiet strength, the way he always seems to look out for me, even when he doesn’t say much.

Tonight isn’t just prom—it’s a chance to feel normal, even if just for a few hours. To laugh, to dance, to live in a moment that belongs to me. To us.

Tonight, I am going to ask them to come with me to RISD, or at least let us continue this during the breaks. I am going to admit out loud to them that I want them and pray they don’t reject me.

The knock at the door startles me, breaking through my thoughts. My heart leaps with anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding my veins. Setting the curling iron down, I make my way to the door, the soft rustle of my dress accompanying me.“They’re early,” I whisper, smoothing my dress one last time before walking toward the door, the soft rustle of the fabric trailing behind me. My hand hesitates on the doorknob for a moment, my pulse thrumming with the promise of what’s to come.

As I open it, a confused smile forms on my lips—until I see him.The man stands there, his face hidden behind a black ski mask. My heart drops, fear gripping me in an instant.

“Who—” The question barely escapes my lips before he lunges forward.

I stumble back, his gloved hand clamping over my mouth before I can scream. Panic floods my system as I thrash against him, my fists pounding uselessly against his chest.

“This is for the future queen,” he snarls, his voice low and menacing.

The words send a chill down my spine, their meaning lost in the chaos of the moment. I twist and struggle, my heels scraping against the hardwood as he forces me further into the room.

I manage to bite down hard on his hand, and he jerks back with a curse. The brief release gives me just enough time to grab the nearest thing—a heavy glass vase from the dresser.

With all the strength I can muster, I swing the vase at his head. The impact shatters the ceramic into jagged pieces, sending shards flying and the man stumbling back. His grip on me loosens just enough for me to wrench free.

“Help!” I scream, my voice hoarse and desperate as I dart toward the door, my heart pounding in my ears.

But he recovers quickly, his movements eerily calm and calculated as he blocks my escape. His masked face tilts slightly, as if mocking my efforts. My chest heaves, terror clawing at my throat as I frantically search for anything else I can use.

My eyes land on the curling iron still plugged in on the vanity. I lunge for it, the hot metal scorching my palm as I wrap my fingers around it. Adrenaline pushes me forward, and I swing it with every ounce of strength I have, the heated barrel landing squarely against his arm.

He lets out a sharp hiss of pain, the mask slipping slightly as he stumbles back. My breath catches as the familiar face beneath is revealed. Ricardo.

“Ricardo?” My voice trembles with disbelief, a crushing weight settling in my chest. He was supposed to protect me, to keep me safe. “You’re the mole?!”

He rips the mask off completely, his face twisted with anger and something darker. “You stupid bitch,” he growls, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re ruining everything. This is for the future queen.”

The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical blow. My knees threaten to buckle as I step back, gripping the curling iron like a lifeline. “Why?” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I trusted you!”

Ricardo sneers, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “You were never more than a job. And now, you’re just in the way.”

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