Page 20 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

“Not right now, Lan.” Jasmine turns on him with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips. “You are ridiculous. And pushy.”

Landon just chuckles, clearly unfazed, and before she can step away, he reaches out, curling a hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers threading into the short undercut there. He leans in, murmuring words too low for me to hear, and whatever he says makes Jasmine’s entire face go bright red.

She jerks away, smacking his chest. “Company,Lan!”

He laughs, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Right, right. Behaving now.” But the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

“See, this is why I need Brooke.” She sighs. “Anyway, you need to tell me everything, like I literally want to know every time you pissed, everything.”

I giggle. “That may be TMI but I’ll tell you just about everything.”

“Good enough.” Jasmine laces her fingers with mine pulling me in the direction of the stairs. “No boys allowed!”

__________

A pizza and two tubs of ice cream later, and I know everything that happened in the last three years.

Jasmine doesn’t hold back—she never has. She tells me everything, from how she met Conner, Landon, and Brooke, to how their chaotic, messy, andridiculouslyhot love story unfolded. Apparently, Conner, the devastatingly charming Irish cop with blonde hair, green eyes, and a voice like butter, is the only reason Landon isn’t rotting in a prison cell. Landon, for all his cocky grins and easygoing attitude, is a killer—who kills those who have harmed others and failed to get punished in court. Conner gives him his victims and helps him evade the police.

Then there’s Brooke, the sweet yet feisty cowgirl turned professional thief who somehow balances them all out, slipping between them like she was made to belong there. Jasmine literally swoons every time she says her name. It is adorable.

As much as Jasmine’s story is wild, it’shers, and she’s happy.Reallyhappy. She’s a professional boxer now, taking all that fire and rage and turning it into something powerful. And out of everyone, Landon is the only one whoreallysees the darkness inside her—the same kind of darkness he carries.

I listen, hanging onto every word, laughing in places, gasping in others, but underneath it all, there’s a deep ache. Imissed this. I missedher.

Jasmine must see it on my face because she nudges my foot with hers, eyebrow raised. “Alright, enough about me. Spill, Willow. What the hell has been going on withyou?”

So I tell her.

I tell her about Sofia and Rudy, about Vincent’s proposal—her jawdropsat that—and then, finally, I tell her about Ricardo. About what I did. About how no one else knows.

Her expression shifts, the teasing glint in her eyes dimming as she studies me. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t look horrified. She justseesme, the way she always has.

“Damn,” she murmurs, leaning back, running a hand through her braids. “You really did it, huh?”

I nod, my throat tight.

Jasmine squeezes my hand, her grip warm and steady, grounding me in the way only she can. “Good. That bastard had it coming,” she says, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. But then, her eyes soften, scanning my face, and I know she sees everything I’m trying to hold back.

She exhales, shaking her head. “Damn, Wills… how the hell did we get here?”

A humorless chuckle escapes me, but it dies too quickly, swallowed by the pressure in my chest. I stare down at my half-eaten slice of pizza, suddenly unable to even look at it. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I keep wondering… if I had done anything differently, if I had never gotten involved with them, would my dad still be alive?”

Jasmine stills. Her hand tightens just a fraction around mine. “Willow…”

I shake my head quickly, trying to keep it together, but it’s no use. “His funeral is in two days.” My voice wobbles. “I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this, Jas. I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand there and say goodbye like I’ll ever be ready for it.”

“Oh, Wills.” She lets out a shaky breath, and before I know it, she’s yanking me into a fierce hug, her arms wrapping around me so tight I can barely breathe—but I don’t want her to let go.

“I’m so damn sorry,” she whispers against my hair. “I had no idea… I should’ve?—”

“There was nothing you could’ve done.” My voice is muffled against her shoulder, and I grip the back of her hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping me together. “I just—I miss him so much.”

Jasmine holds me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I know,” she murmurs, and I can hear the pain in her voice, raw and unfiltered. “I hate this for you, Wills. I hate that you have to go through this.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing the lump in my throat.

A few moments pass, nothing but the sound of our breathing, the quiet hum of the city outside.

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