Page 38 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“We’ll take care of her. You have my word.”

My breath catches in my throat, because for a moment I believed him— like really believed that he would take care of me, and that Damien would protect me with his life. Was this a trick? Because tricking me is fine, but Damien? No, never.

Jasmine chimes in with a determined nod. “Absolutely. Willow’s stuck with me. I’ll keep her in line.”

Dad chuckles softly, clearly reassured. “Well, that settles it then. Between you two and Jasmine, I think she’ll be just fine.”

I force a smile, though my stomach churns at the thought of him being gone. Quietly, I remove myself from the general conversation, hoping it will shift back to hockey, so I am not expected to speak anymore.

Jasmine is passionately debating the top teams with Dad, and Damien playfully teases her for picking them based on attractiveness while agreeing with my Dad on a few of the player’s skills. If we were dating, I would be impressed and thinking of all the brownie points he is racking up.

If Vincent and I were together, I would want him to fight for my father's attention more. But those thoughts are pointless because nothing is happening between us and my dad is about to leave.

I am spending one of my last three days with my Dad playing a charade with the Chessmen and it makes me sick.

My mind races as the weight of everything - my dad's departure, the Chessmen's constant presence, Damien's intense promise, Vincent's piercing stare - crushes down on me.I almost want toflee, but instead I freeze in place, a thin smile on my face, my chest tight, and my lungs burning with the need to breathe.

11

WILLOW

By the end of dinner, Dad is practically eating out of Damien’s palm, Vincent looks like a guilty puppy, and Jasmine’s eyes are darting around the room so fast I swear she is going to give herself a headache. Dad’s phone rings and I almost sob when he says it’s the work manager from Alaska.

I look over at Damien as he rolls up his sleeves to start washing the dishes. The veins in his forearms make me lick my lips in admiration. Oh sweet goddess, why does he have to look this good and be a grade A dick?

“Okay,” I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. “You can go now.”

Damien’s hands pause under the running water, his head snapping toward me like I’ve just said the most absurd thing in the world. His stormy eyes bore into mine. “Excuse me?”

Jasmine doesn’t miss a beat. She steps closer to Damien, her body practically vibrating with protective anger. Her narrowed eyes could cut glass. “You heard her.”

Before Damien can respond, Vincent, leaning casually against the counter, suddenly straightens up. His smile is razor-sharp, his tone mocking. “I’d love to know why the Princess thinks she’s kicking us out after we just offered toprotecther.”

I grit my teeth, my frustration bubbling over as I rake a hand through my hair. My gaze darts across the messy kitchen. “Because I don’t want to keep up this charade when I only have 72 hours left with my Dad!” My voice cracks at the end, but I hold my ground, glaring at Vincent and Damien.

Damien’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns back to the dishes, his movements stiff.

“Well, it’s a good thing thischaradeis no longer up for discussion.” Vincent straightens to his full height, his blue eyes glinting with determination. “You’re coming to live with me, the day your father leaves.”

Damien’s eyes shoot to Vincent’s, before the slow roll of his eyes and an exacerbated sigh leaves his lips.

My heart skips a beat, panic rising in my chest. “What?” I nearly shout. “No! Absolutely not!”

Vincent doesn’t flinch, his tone steady and cold. “It’s non-negotiable, Willow.”

“Like hell it is!” My voice is shrill now, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “This is my life, my decision?—”

“Not anymore.” Vincent’s words cut through my protests like a knife. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re a small, beautiful, smart-mouth girl alone in a big house, Willow. Whether you like it or not, we’re here to make sure you stay alive and unharmed. You’re staying with me, end of story.”

I whip my head toward Damien, desperate for support, but he remains silent. His back is to me, his broad shoulders tense as he dries a plate with methodical precision.

“Damien,” I plead, hoping for an ally.

He hesitates, his hands stilling for just a moment before he speaks, his voice low and unreadable. “Vincent’s right.”

Jasmine’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the tension like a blade. “This is bullshit,” she spits, stepping forward to place herself between Vincent and me. Her narrowed eyes flicker with anger as she glares at him. “You don’t get to decide where she goes or what she does, Vincent. She’s not some helpless damsel in distress.”

Vincent’s jaw tightens, and his gaze sharpens, his towering presence somehow seeming even more menacing. “This isn’t about control, Jasmine. It’s about her safety.” He gestures toward me without breaking eye contact. “Do you want her to end up dead because she’s too stubborn to let us do our job?”

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