Page 10 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

5

WILLOW

The plane lands in Texas,and I find myself unable to move. I am torn between wanting to stay on the plane forever and wanting to get off and face the truth. But there is no escaping it now. Damien was right about me. I am heartless. I am a murderer.

Cast looks at me with his bag thrown over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath. “Everything…nothing.”

“Willow-” he sighs, dropping the bag onto the seat and staring at me with his perfect green eyes. Goddamn, Cast is perfect.

“If I get off this plane, I have to admit my father is dead,” I whisper, giving him a partial truth. “I don’t want to admit that just yet.”

His lips twist into a frown. “ Sitting here won’t bring him back, Willow.”

I clench my jaw, my hands fisting in my lap. “I know that.”

He studies me again, then reaches out, his fingers brushing against my wrist. It’s light. Barely there. And still, it nearly undoes me. “Come on. We will face it together.”

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I nod, forcing my legs to move, but the moment I stand, my knees buckle. Before I can even think about hitting the floor, Cast is there, arms around me, lifting me effortlessly into his hold.

I stiffen. “Cast, put me down.”

“No.” His grip tightens as he moves us toward the exit. “You’re walking out of here one way or another, Cariña. Might as well make it easy.”

I don’t fight him. I don’t have the energy to. I sink into his shoulder and let the smell of ash and whiskey lull me into a false sense of security.

Cast carries me down the narrow aisle like I weigh nothing, his arms steady, his steps confident. The humid Texas air wraps around me when we step off the plane, thick and suffocating. He strides toward the parking lot, where a sleek black car waits, tinted windows gleaming under the harsh daylight.

I should pull away. I should demand that he put me down so I can walk on my own. But I don’t.

Instead, I press my face deeper into his neck, breathing him in like he’s the only solid thing in a world crumbling beneath my feet.

I expect him to put me down when we reach the car, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts me effortlessly, freeing one hand to open the passenger door. Then, just as effortlessly, he sets me down on the seat like I’m delicate.

I stiffen at the touch, but Cast is already stepping back and moving to the driver’s side.

The second he slides in, the weight of everything starts creeping back in.

My father is dead.

Ricardo is dead, and I am the one who killed him.

And I’m going home with him—with Cast. I will see Vincent again. I will see Damien.

I let out a shaky breath, staring out the window as he starts the car.

___________________________

The drive is silent as the city of Dallas unfurls before us. The city blurs past in streaks of neon and headlights, the hum of the car’s engine a low, steady purr beneath us. Dallas at night is alive—towering buildings, bustling streets, the occasional red glow of a brake light catching in the rearview mirror. But I don’t see any of it.

I just see him.

Cast’s hands grip the steering wheel, veins prominent against his tanned skin. He drives like he does everything else—with effortless control. One hand shifts gears, the other resting casually, but I know better. He’s always calculating, always watching.

And right now, I hate that I find comfort in that.

The reality of my father’s death presses down on me, thick and suffocating. I can feel it clawing up my throat, wrapping around my lungs. But then?—

---