Page 10 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Willow,” Vincent protests, but hearing my name instead of little devil, only makes the pit in my stomach grow.

Vincent doesn’t hold onto me, he lets me out of his lap. The minute I’m free I scoop up my bag and turn on my heel and stalk out of the cafeteria, trying to ignore the whispers behind me. The harshness of the cold air outside the doors does nothing to calm the rush of tears threatening to spill over. My chest tightens as I fight to hold back the floodgates, but they burst anyway, hot and raw.

I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t understand why I'm letting them get to me like this. All I want to do is crawl back to them. To Cast and beg him to get rid of the ache between my thighs, to make me feel better. I don’t know why but the heat of embarrassment comes in hot waves that I can’t fight.

I stumble into the bathroom, grateful that no one is here and curl into a ball in the corner of the last stall. The sob that escapes me sounds panicked, but it’s a better sound than my phone buzzing.

Unknown Number: Little pawn, you were perfect.

I hold my breath, rereading the wordperfectover and over again. For some reason that eases the clawing in my chest.

4

WILLOW

Avoiding the Chessmen is proving harder than I imagined. They’re everywhere. No matter where I go, one of them is always lurking—watching, waiting. After what happened in the cafeteria, I can’t even look them in the eyes. Thankfully, they’re giving me some space, but not enough.

Damien’s gaze clings to me like a shadow, trailing over every inch of my body from the moment Jasmine’s car pulls into the parking lot. For the past three days, his presence has been a constant weight, his watchfulness oppressive and unrelenting.

Vincent is no better. His eyes sweep over my outfits every morning, his judgment palpable from across the cafeteria. And when he thinks no one can see, something in his expression shifts. He looks heartbreakingly lost, like a wounded animal yearning for comfort. That vulnerability makes me want to run, but it also tugs at something deep inside me, demanding I stay.

Then there’s Cast. Cast is the most suffocating of them all.

I feel him before I see him, the air shifting heavy and electric as he approaches. A shiver races down my spine as his towering frame blocks my path just outside the cafeteria.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Cast says smoothly, his voice a velvet blade. “Avoiding us.”

“Is that so surprising?” I snap, trying to move around him, but he sidesteps to block me.

“I love to play games, little pawn,” he murmurs, leaning in close. His green eyes glint dangerously, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “But do you really think you want to play with me?”

“I am not playing a game with you. I’m just trying to live my life,” I shoot back, glaring up at him.

His lips twitch into a smirk, the kind that makes my stomach twist with equal parts fear and... something else I don’t want to name. “Yourlife? That’s cute.”

“Excuse me?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended as I shift my weight onto my right hip and cross my arms across my chest.

Cast licks his pink lips, a scoff escaping from between his lips as he slides closer to me, the scent of ash and honey invading my nostrils. He plays with one of my curls between his pointer and thumb. His eyes never fading from mine. “This is notyourlife anymore. You are ours, little pawn. Damien’s to control. Vincent’s to tease. Mine to torture.”

I try to take a step back, but his hand snakes around the back of my neck, drawing me in so close the cinnamon scent of red hot gum flutters over my face. My eyes widen and I can feel all theair leaving my chest as my eyes lock with his slowly expanding pupils that seem to consume almost every inch of his green irises.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands.

Cast tilts his head, his smirk deepening as though I’ve just issued him a challenge he can’t wait to accept. “You signed your life away for one hundred fifty thousand dollars, which is sad,” he says, his tone almost playful. “I would have paid so so much more.”

I swallow roughly. His lips a safe inch, or a painful breath away. I can’t decide. “W-what does that mean?”

“It means,” Cast’s lips brush over the shell of my ear. “I know your worth, even if you don’t.”

I’m still struggling to make sense of Cast’s words, my heart pounding against my ribs, when Vincent’s voice cuts through the haze.

“What the hell is taking so long?”

I jump at the interruption, my eyes darting to where Vincent stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets. His gaze flicks between us, first landing on Cast’s hand still wrapped around my neck, then on my flushed face.

“What’s this, Cast?” Vincent asks, his voice deceptively calm, though the tension in his posture gives him away.

“I was just giving her a... reminder.” Cast drawls, his grip loosening but not entirely letting go.

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