Page 18 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

A sob escapes before I can stop it, and I press a hand to my mouth, closing my eyes.

Damien pulls me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me like he’s afraid I might shatter into a thousand pieces if he lets go. His hand slides up to my hair, brushing it back gently as I bury my face into his shirt.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “He didn’t ask for anything but that. Just… wanted to talk about you with somebody. I couldn’t let him carry the burden and worry about you while you were gone.”

My hands clutch his shirt, as if holding onto him is the only thing keeping me from crumbling completely. He doesn’t pull away. He lets me cry, lets me fall apart in his arms, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I didn’t want you to have to carry this,” he says again, quieter now, his words more for himself than for me. “I just wanted you to be able to breathe again.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“At first, yes,” he admits, his voice lower, rougher. “But now? Now, I don’t know.”

The minute I feel myself melting into Damien’s arms a knock at the door startles us and he pushes me away. I look down at myself, quickly wiping the tears.

“What did you do to her?” Cast’s voice is sharp, demanding, fists clenched at his sides, his entire body coiled tight, as if he’s ready to pounce.

Damien simply rolls his shoulders back, staring blankly at Cast. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Cast snarls, stepping into the room, his gaze flickering to me. “Willow?”

“I’m fine.” My voice wavers slightly, betraying me, and Cast’s eyes darken even further.

He takes another step forward. “You don’t look fine.”

I shake my head, brushing at my damp cheeks. “I just—Damien was just helping me pick the flowers.”

Cast’s gaze snaps to the computer screen, where the selected arrangement is still displayed. His jaw ticks, but some of the tension in his frame eases. “Flowers,” he repeats, but his tone suggests he doesn’t fully believe that’s all that happened here.

Damien exhales sharply. “Relax, Castillo. I didn’t break her.”

Cast whirls on him. “You don’t get to talk about her like she’s some fragile thing after the way you’ve treated her.”

Damien’s expression darkens. “You think I don’t know that?”

Silence hangs between them, thick and charged.

I step forward, placing a hand on Cast’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Please,” I whisper, looking up at him. “Not right now.”

His gaze softens slightly when he looks at me, reaching up, to cup my cheek for a brief moment before exhaling sharply and stepping back. “Fine.”

Damien snorts. “How generous of you.”

I glare at the side of Damien’s head before turning back to Cast. “Did you need me?”

“Yeah,” he says, tilting his head toward the door. “Someone’s here for you.”

I cast one last glance at Damien, who simply shrugs, then follow Cast out of the office. My legs feel heavy as I descend the stairs, the weight of everything that just happened still pressing on my chest.

Then, I hear her.

“I don’t care who the hell you think you are, Landon. You can’t just drag me wherever?—”

The sharp, familiar voice cuts through the air, snapping me out of my haze. My stomach flips as I round the corner, and then I see her.

“Jasmine?” I cough out.

She stands in the middle of the foyer, her blue eyes blazing with fury as she stares down one of Cast’s guards. Her hands are on her hips, her foot tapping against the marble floor with impatience.

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