Page 30 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

“But-”

“And we can’t go back to our penthouse, not Vincent’s, not Cast’s mansion, not even my apartment.”

“Your apartment?” I whisper. “I’ve never been.”

“I’ll take you one day, but right now, I need to take you to somewhere safe.” He nods, and I slide deeper into my comforter.

But I know better than to argue with him when he’s like this. When Damien is serious, there’s no changing his mind.

"Okay," I whisper, though every inch of my body wants to fight. I don’t want to leave my house. I don’t want to go with him—wherever ‘there’ is—but I can hear the desperation in his voice. He wouldn’t have ripped me out of my bed in the middle of the night if it wasn’t important. If it wasn’t life or death.

He moves quickly, grabbing a bag from the closet and tossing it onto the bed. "Essentials only," he says.

I shove a few things inside, my hands shaking as I zip it up. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s already at the door, one hand on my lower back, steering me forward.

Headlights slash across the window twice, and my stomach knots. A black SUV purrs in the driveway, its tinted windows swallowing the night. Damien doesn’t slow. He yanks the door open and ushers me out, his grip firm but not harsh.

"Move," he says, and I do.

The cold bites into my skin as I step outside, my breath curling in the air. One of his men stands by the vehicle, his face stoic behind dark sunglasses despite the late hour. He doesn’t speak, just opens the door as Damien all but guides me inside.

The second I’m in, the door slams shut, and we’re moving.

The SUV moves through the darkness, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence. After a while, Damien’s phone rings and he answers it. He spends the entire car ride on his phone between texting and the muffled conversations. I decide it is better to ignore him than to act like he is there with me.

My fingers curl into the fabric of my hoodie as I stare out the window, watching the city lights fade into the black void of the coastline. The drive stretches on, each mile pulling me further from the life I knew and deeper into whatever storm we found ourselves in.

The SUV comes to a stop, and before I can reach for the door, it swings open. Damien steps out of the car first, his lips twitching in a wry grin as he turns around and holds out his hand.

I hesitate. Something about this feels… final, and I can’t bring myself to go of my own accord, so I let him pull me from the car.

The cold lake breeze wraps around me, carrying the scent of damp earth and wood. I shiver, but Damien doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me up the wooden steps and into the house. The inside is dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Everything feels untouched, like no one has been here in a long time.

But Damien has.

Without a word, Damien guides me down the hallway, pushing open the door to a bedroom. The bed is already made, the sheets crisp and cool as I sit on the edge, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

“You should sleep,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “You’re safe here.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Safe,” I echo, staring at my hands. “You keep saying that, but you won’t even tell me what I’m running from.”

Damien’s jaw tightens. “I will. But not tonight.”

I should fight him on it. Should demand answers. But I’m too tired. Too drained.

So I just nod.

He watches me for a long moment before sighing and stepping back toward the door. “Get some rest, Willow.”

Then he does something I don’t expect.

He grabs a pillow from the bed, tossing it onto the floor before settling down beside it. My breath catches as I watch him stretch out on his back, one arm resting behind his head, the other draped across his stomach.

“Damien,” I whisper, my throat tightening.

He doesn’t look at me, just stares at the ceiling like it holds the answers to whatever weight he’s carrying. “Go to sleep,” he says, like this is normal. Like he hasn’t done this before.

But he has.

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