Page 29 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

“You’re weak,” he says, stepping closer. “Pathetic. Always will be.”

It’s like his words are poison, sinking into my skin, twisting everything inside me. His eyes—they’re dark, cold, full of hatred. It’s like he’s looking right through me, like I’m nothing more than a speck of dust in his world.

But then my consciousness snaps. My hand—it’s moving, reaching for something. Something cold, heavy. A knife. How did it get there? I don’t know. I don’t care.

The blade feels foreign in my hand, but it’s also comforting. I clutch it, feeling the cold steel against my palm, the weight of it reassuring in a way I don’t understand.

Ricardo laughs, that low, mocking laugh. “You don’t have the guts, girl.”

The words ignite a fire inside me. Anger. Rage. It all burns hot, a fire consuming me. My hand moves before I can stop it, the knife slicing through the air, connecting with his chest in a sickening thud.

I hear him gasp, but I don’t stop. I don’t think. I pull the knife out and drive it in again, deeper this time. The sound of it—the sick, wet sound of flesh tearing—it makes my stomach churn, but I can’t stop.

I don’t want to stop.

Over and over, I push the knife into him, the blood spilling out, painting the floor in crimson. His body jerks, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but I can’t hear him anymore. His face—his smug, mocking face—fades away, replaced by the red haze that’s clouding my vision.

Each strike feels like release, like something I’ve been holding in for too long. He deserves this. He has to deserve this. The anger, the pain, it’s all slipping away, replaced by a darker sensation, something more satisfying.

But then—then it hits me.

His body is still. Too still.

My hands are shaking, covered in blood that feels too warm, too real. I try to wipe it off, but it just keeps spreading. Blood. Everywhere. I open my mouth to scream--

Then, just as quickly as it started, a jolt hits me. A voice—Damien’s voice—cuts through the haze of my dream, pulling me back into reality.

"Trouble? Willow? Stop, I’m here. I’m right here.”

My eyes snap open, and the dream shatters like glass. I blink into the darkness of my room, disoriented, my breath still coming in shallow gasps as if I’ve been running.

Damien stands above me, his silhouette sharp against the dim light from the hallway. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of recognition in them—something that makes my chest tighten. But it’s gone almost as soon as I notice it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a nightmare.” I rub my eyes, struggling to clear the fog of sleep. "Damien? What’s going on? It’s—" I glance at the clock. "It’s the middle of the night. Is everything okay?"

"I need you to listen to me, and I need you to listen carefully."

I swallow the strange knot of anxiety in my stomach tightening. "What’s happening?"

"I need to get you out of here. Now."

"Out of where? Damien, what’s going on?" I can hear the edge in my own voice, my nerves starting to fray as the seriousness of the situation settles over me.

"Willow, there’s a threat. I can’t go into details right now, but it’s serious. We don’t have time. We are going to the safe house. Get dressed and be ready to leave in ten minutes. Don’t argue with me." His voice is so final, I feel the words slap against my skin.

"Damien, what do you mean, a threat? What are you talking about?" My hands grip the edges of the blanket, the warmth of the covers doing nothing to ease the chill running down my spine.

"I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need you to trust me. Just do as I say."

"Damien, stop. You’re scaring me." I hate how weak my voice sounds, but I can’t shake the wave of panic creeping through me.

"I know," he mutters, the words barely audible. "But it’s for your own good. Please, just trust me. I’ll explain it all when we are at a safe house."

“Another?”

“You’re not safe anywhere they know we live. So you can’t stay here.”

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