Page 39 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

"Why?" My chest tightens, panic clawing its way up my throat. "Tell me why."

His lips press into a thin line. "Because I am the Knight and our Queen needs us.”

My breath catches. "Queen?”

"I can’t let you get involved," he says after a long pause. "It’s not safe."

"Safe?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Do you think I feel safe right now? Watching you pack like this, watching you walk away without knowing if I’ll ever see you again?"

His jaw tenses. "It’s different."

"It’s not," I counter. "You’re making a choice to go. I don’t get a choice. I just have to sit here and wait, hoping you come back."

He turns away, running a hand through his hair. "Vincent will be here."

"I don’t want any of you to go."

He exhales, long and slow. "It’s not that simple."

I step closer, closing the gap between us. My fingers brush against his forearm, and he freezes. "Then make it simple," I whisper. "Stay."

His eyes slide shut for a brief moment, and when he opens them again, there’s something raw there, a sentiment that makes my heart ache.

"You know I can’t."

"Damien—"

He cups the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. "I need you to trust me."

"That’s not fair," I whisper. "You’re asking me to trust you while you’re keeping secrets."

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t argue. He just watches me with a serious expression. And then, before I can say anything else, he leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. It’s soft, lingering, and it feels an awful lot like goodbye.

"I’ll be back," he murmurs against my skin. "I promise."

But promises are just words, and words don’t keep people safe.

I grab onto his wrist as he tries to pull away. "Damien, please?—"

He gently pries my fingers off him, his touch lingering for just a second before he steps back, slinging the duffel over his shoulder.

"Lock the door behind me. Don’t let anyone in unless it’s Vincent’s voice."

"You sound like you don’t trust me to take care of myself."

His lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile. "I trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust."

And with that, he turns and walks out the door.

I stand there, frozen, listening as his footsteps fade down the hall, the front door creaks open, then shuts with a soft click.

I barely have time to process it before the door swings open again. My heart leaps—until I see who it is.

Fucking Vincent.

I groan, crossing my arms. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

He snickers, stepping inside like he owns the place. "Miss me already?"

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