Page 49 of Into Ruin

“Now, there’s just one question that remains.” He pauses. His hands come to my knees, hot even through my jeans. “Was Camden Church the one in the videos?”

My breath catches. “What?”

“The WatchMe account, Harper.” His gaze darkens. “I saw what he did to you, and it matches some videos. But beyond that, I had to watch you demean yourself on your knees in front of him. Did you do that to test me? To send the message that I wasn’t doing enough?”

I rear back. “What? No.”

“Baby, I’m going to need you to delete those videos.”

“I—” I can’t exactly say I don’t have access to them.

That probably wouldn’t go over so well.

I set the flower aside and lean even farther back. He rises up on his knees, and he’s so much bigger than me that our faces are even like this.

I can’t do this.

“He’s never going to play hockey again,” Max decides. “I know I said that about Royal, but I mean it, Harper. You’re mine. You’ve been mine. And suddenly he thinks he can come in here and lay claim? Absolutely not.”

A chill sweeps down my spine.

“Give me your phone.” He drums his fingers on my knees.

I shake my head, but when his expression flickers to ice-cold, I find myself complying. He unlocks it without hesitation, typing in my code, and taps around on the screen. A second later, he tosses it aside.

Out of reach.

“He’ll come here. You’ll sit like a good little girl while I make sure he never hurts you again.” He rubs my thighs.

My eyes widen. “You can’t?—”

He sighs. “Is it because you liked what he did to you?”

It’s not like that.

“I can do that, if you really need it.” He leans in and catches the back of my head. He drags his mouth from my jaw up to my ear. “I can fuck you like a dirty whore and leave you tied up to the radiator like a free-use bitch, to be ready and waiting for me whenever I want. If that’s what you need.”

Revulsion slides through me.

My hand moves behind me, groping for something—anything—to help me.

I brush the toe of Camden’s skate and go still. Max doesn’t notice. His grip on the back of my head relaxes the slightest bit, and he drops his mouth to my neck. He kisses me there, hot and sloppy, his tongue tasting my skin.

I am not in my body.

It’s like I separate myself from it, not feeling it. Not reacting. I let him touch me and I hate myself for it. But I grip the skate and slide my finger along the blade behind my back.

My gaze lands on the rose.

He ruined roses for me. He ruinedsurprisesfor me. And being able to post my location in real time. Every social media post is delayed, any hints about where I truly am has been cloaked for the last few months. All in an effort to hide from Max.

With my free hand, I touch his arm.

He hums, content. Then groans when my hand moves to the back of his neck.

Then his hair. I knock the hat off to get a better grip, the strands just long enough to thread my fingers through.

I picture Max breaking Camden’s leg—or worse. The snap of bone is audible in my ears, an unwelcome echo that guides my movements.

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