Page 48 of Into Ruin

“Let me prove my devotion to you, baby.” He brushes his knuckles down my jaw. “Or I’ll break your brother’s leg and make sure he never plays hockey again. But that’s your choice, okay?”

A chill runs down my spine.

He smiles and touches me again. My cheek. Just to prove he can.

And I let him. I stay where I am, frozen in place for a solid few seconds, until my senses return. I jerk away, staggering to the side. I yank my hand from his and put space between us, but this room, this whole arena, suddenly seems too small to contain both of us.

I’m too claustrophobic with Max nearby.

His gaze slips toward predatory. “Maybe whatever injury Royal sustains could affect Camden Church, too. He’s the one in your videos, isn’t he?”

Oh, fuck. The WatchMe account?

Camden never showed his face, though, so how?—

“You think I would let you stay in that house, full of untrustworthy hockey players, and not look out for you?”

He yanks my arm. I stumble after him, trying to keep my footing with his quick pace. My mind whirls, but no immediate solution presents itself. No way to get out of this without him escaping to come back another day and hurt Royal.

Or Camden.

“He snuck into your room. He defiled you while you slept, and you fucking woke up with your hand down your panties.” His voice is hard. “You think that’s forgivable?”

My eyes burn, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I don’t know how to handle this.

“I packed you a bag.” He gestures. “So you don’t have to see those awful men again. Your brother”—his voice cracks—“he let his friend assault you time and again, and he didnothing. Did he even notice? Did he not lay awake wondering if his baby sister was safe in his house?”

“I was safe there,” I say in a low voice.

“No, you were NOT!”

I flinch back like he struck me. He scowls and turns away, and I sink into the seat at my back. I lean against one of the side walls of the cubby and risk a glance upward.

C. Church.

Fitting.

When he turns back around, he has a pink rose in his hand. He comes forward and kneels in front of me, offering it out.

“Like it?” he asks, breathless.

No. No, no, I hate it.

My stomach rolls, and I swallow a few times to try and beat back the nausea. When I don’t move to accept it, he forcibly takes my hand and curls my fingers around the thornless stem.

I squeeze my eyes shut. He was the threat that never seemedthreatening. Besides the roses he left in my room… that was creepy as fuck. But now, he’s escalated just like I’ve always feared. Everything I’ve read about how to deal with a stalker, how to placate them, has gone out the window.

All I can think is, I will not let him remove me from this place against my will.

If he’s escalating, it meansIneed to escalate.

I open my eyes and focus on the rose in my hand. My fingers tremble when I reach up and pinch one of the petals. I have a bruise on my thigh from where Camden pinched me last night. Crushing the velvet pink between my fingers reminds me of skin.

The floral scent assaults me, and I exhale a long, slow breath.

“There,” he murmurs. “You’re coming to your senses, aren’t you, baby?”

I stay silent.

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