Page 27 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

The door opens anyway.

Valeria steps inside, moving like she owns the space—hips swaying, heels clicking softly against the floor. She’s in a sleek, black fitted dress that hugs her curves just enough to be a distraction. And she knows it.

“Someone left this for you,” she says, holding out a yellow envelope between manicured fingers. Instead of waiting for me to take it, she steps around my desk and perches on the edge, crossing one long leg over the other. Close enough that I catch the faint scent of her perfume— artificial cherries, gross.

I take the envelope, tearing it open with one sharp motion. The photo slips into my palm, and my entire body goes still.

Willow.

She’s standing at the funeral partially dressed with Vincent naked behind her. Her head is bowed, clothes crumpled in her hands, and shoulders are curled inward like she’s caving in on herself.

My fingers tighten around the edges of the picture, but it’s the words scrawled beneath that light a fuse inside me.

"You can’t protect her forever."

I take a slow, steadying breath but it doesn’t work. My jaw flexes, rage pressing against the inside of my ribs, sharp and demanding.

Valeria watches me, amused but observant. “Bad news?”

I don’t answer. Just shove back my chair, standing so abruptly that she has to plant a hand on the desk to keep her balance. I grab the photo, already moving.

“Who dropped this off?” I say, my voice low.

Valeria doesn’t move from my desk, just tilts her head, watching me with a smarmy curve of her lips. “No name. Just an envelope. Guess you have a secret admirer.”

I’m in front of her before I realize I’ve moved, my fingers gripping her jaw, forcing her to look up at me. Her smile doesn’t waver, but her pupils flare just a little, dark and knowing.

“Where did this come from?” I snarl, my grip tightening just enough to make a point.

She exhales, slow and deliberate, her lips curving like she enjoys this. “Security caught a man on the cameras, left it at the front desk and walked out like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

“Face?”

Valeria leans into my grip just slightly, like she’s daring me to lose control. “Not clear. Baseball cap, hoodie, classic no-trace bullshit. But he wanted you to get this. ”

My fingers twitch before I let her go with a rough exhale. My pulse is a steady roar in my ears. Someone thinks they can play games with me. Withher.

They’re fucking wrong.

Valeria straightens, rolling her jaw like she can still feel my grip. “You're going to rip someone apart tonight,jefe?”

I don’t answer. I exhale hard, running a hand down my face, forcing down the rage clawing up my throat.

“Get Vincent and Damien. Now.” My voice is sharp, edged with lethal determination.

Valeria doesn’t flinch, just slides off my desk with that slow, deliberate grace of hers. “Of course,” she purrs, smoothing out the hem of her dress.

“After you get the guys. You’re fired,” I say coldly.

She pauses, one perfectly manicured hand on the doorframe. “What?”

“You’re fired.”

Slowly, she turns back to face me, one brow arching in disbelief, but her amusement doesn’t drop. If anything, it deepens, like she thinks I’m bluffing. “Oh? And what exactly did I do to deserve that,Cast?”

“Excuse me?” I snarl.

“Señor Castillo.” She corrects.

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