Page 11 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

Then I remember his lips.

Cast’s mouth on mine, fierce and all-consuming. The way he kissed me was like he was claiming a part of me he already owned—the heat of it, the violence of it.

I squeeze my thighs together and slam the memory out of my head. Not now. Not when I’m barely holding myself together.

I turn to look at him. “How much longer?”

He flicks me a glance, amused. “Eager to be alone with me, Cariña?”

I scowl. “I want to sleep.”

His smug look deepens, but he doesn’t push. “We’re almost there.”

Minutes later, the car pulls into an underground garage, the air shifting from the warm Texas night to the cool sterility of concrete and steel. Cast parks effortlessly, shutting off the engine before stepping out. He rounds the car, opening my door before I can even reach for the handle.

“Come on,” he murmurs, offering his hand.

I ignore it and step out on my own, but the second I do, the exhaustion slams into me. I sway, and before I can catch myself, Cast’s hand is at my waist, steadying me.

He doesn’t say anything. Just holds me there for a moment longer than necessary before releasing me and leading me toward the private elevator.

“What happened to your mansion?” I cough out a little sharper than intended.

He chuckles to himself. “We wanted a place in the city.”

“We?”

“Yup, all three of us live here.”

I nod to myself. Dallas is only thirty minutes away from Thornhaven but I like the city better than our town. As we step into the penthouse, the stillness is eerie. The glass windows reveal a breathtaking view of the Dallas skyline, the city lights twinkling like stars in the night sky. In the reflection, my figure appears ghostly and hollow, a stark contrast to the vibrant cityscape outside.

My limbs feel heavy, my thoughts a tangled mess of grief and exhaustion, but beneath it all, a single truth sharpens like a blade in my chest.

I don’t belong here.

Being back with Cast, with Damien and Vincent, is too much. Too close. Too dangerous.

They can’t know.

They can never know what I’ve done.

My stomach twists, nausea rolling over me as the truth of it settles in. I can still see Ricardo’s body, the blood on my hands, the moment his eyes went glassy, vacant. It replays in my mind like a sick, looping reel, and every time I close my eyes, I’m back there—kneeling in the darkness, gasping for air, my heart pounding in my ears.

If Damien finds out, he’ll never forgive me.

If Vincent finds out, he’ll look at me like I’m a monster.

And Cast? I don’t even want to imagine what he’d do.

I glance over at him, still standing by the elevator, watching me with those sharp, knowing eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Cast sees me in ways no one else does, and if I stay here too long, he’ll see the truth.

I can’t let that happen.

I won’t let that happen.

I wrap my arms around myself, pressing my nails into my palms to keep from shaking. I’ll stay for the funeral. I’ll bury my father, say my goodbyes, and then I’ll disappear.

I’ll be gone before any of them can put the pieces together.

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