Page 87 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

He places a hand on my shoulder, his grip steady. “You can’t think about them right now. This isn’t just about you, Willow. It’s about staying alive, staying free. They’ll understand. Or they won’t. But you can’t stay here and find out.”

His words slice through me, but I nod, knowing he’s right. With shaky hands, I clean myself up as best as I can, my mind racing. Images of Vincent’s smirk, Cast’s mischievous grin, and Damien’s quiet intensity flash through my mind, each one stabbing at me with guilt and longing.

Before I know it, I’m in the car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My father stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, as I pull out of the driveway.

As the house disappears in the rearview mirror, I let out a choked sob, the weight of everything crashing down on me. The thought of leaving them—Vincent, Cast, Damien—feels like a hot brand down my throat, but I can’t turn back. I can’t look at what I’ve done to protect them. To protect me.

EPILOGUE

DAMIEN

The car idles outside Willow’s house, the engine humming softly in the cool night air. Vincent steps out first, his sharp suit catching the glow of the porch light as he strides toward the house with purpose. Cast follows a beat later, moving slower, adjusting his cuffs like we’re heading into a boardroom instead of prom night.

“Just don’t piss her off tonight, Damien. You know how she gets,” Vincent says, already halfway up the walkway, his voice dripping with amusement.

I shoot him a glare. “Shut up, Vincent.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but the knot in my chest won’t loosen, and his commentary isn’t helping.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, smirking as if this is all a joke. “Relax. I’m just saying. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Cast catches up, his expression as casual as ever. “Chill. Damien’s got this,” he says, leaning lazily against the porch railing. He tilts his head toward the car with a smirk. “But for the record, I’m calling dibs on the back seat next to her.”

I glare at him too, but he just grins, unfazed. Vincent chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, and for a fleeting second, their antics almost pull me out of my nerves. Almost.

I stand at the front door, my hand hovering just a second too long before knocking. My tux feels tight, constricting, but it’s not the suit—it’s the anticipation. Tonight is supposed to be the night. Prom. The night I finally get to tell Willow I see her, that I want her.

I knock, twice, harder this time. The door creaks open, and I freeze when I see him. Mr. Carter. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are colder than usual, a strange tension hanging in the air.

“Hey, Mr. Carter,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m here to pick up Willow. We’re heading to prom.”

He doesn’t move at first. Doesn’t speak. I shift from one foot to the other, already feeling the unease creep up my spine. Something doesn’t feel right. The silence drags on too long.

Then he speaks, and the words slam into me like a freight train.

“She’s gone.”

My chest tightens, my stomach drops. “What do you mean, gone?”

Mr. Carter steps aside, a grim look in his eyes. “She’s not here. Left.”

Left?Willow wouldn’t leave without saying anything, not tonight. We were supposed to be together, we’d made plans.She wouldn’t just disappear.I glance behind him, like I might catch a glimpse of her running back in from the yard or the kitchen. But there’s nothing.

“Where is she?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, my hands clenching at my sides. “What do you mean, she left?”

Mr. Carter shrugs, his expression locked in a hard line. “She didn’t tell me. She’s gone, Damien.”

I can’t process it. My brain stalls, scrambling for something that makes sense, but nothing does.Willow wouldn’t do this.Not without a word, not on a night like this.

“Where’s Ricardo?” I sneer.

“I sent him away,” Mr.Carter shrugs.

“Where?” Cast pipes up.

“Away from here,” he snaps. His hand going to close the door. “Now if you excuse me.”

“Mr.Carter.” I growl, but he swiftly slams the door in my face, and I lean my head against it.Willow’s gone, she just disappeared.

“I’m calling Ricardo,” Cast growls. After a moment, he slams his cartel phone into the concrete.

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