Page 42 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

His lips twitch, a weak, barely-there smirk. “Told you…” he rasps, voice strained. “I wasn’t letting you run.”

A sob escapes me, raw and desperate. “Shut up,” I whisper, pressing harder against the wound, as if sheer force could stop the bleeding. “You’re not dying. You hear me?”

His fingers twitch against my wrist, his grip weak but insistent. “You… finally admit you need me?”

Tears blur my vision. “Yes, okay?! I need you. So don’t you dare die on me, Vincent.”

The room spins, my thoughts fracturing as panic claws its way up my throat. Outside, the night is deathly quiet. Too quiet. Whoever took that shot—they’re still out there.

My breath shudders. My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone, while the other presses desperately against Vincent’s side. “Help is coming,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “Just hold on.”

Vincent’s lips part like he wants to say more. But then?—

His body slackens. His eyes slip shut. Cold terror crashes over me.

“No—Vincent!Stay awake!”

I shake him, my voice rising in panic, but he doesn’t respond.

A shadow flickers outside the window.

My stomach clenches, terror constricting my chest like a vice. My hands are slick with Vincent’s blood, my breaths coming in shallow gasps as my gaze snaps up to the window. The darkness outside seems to shift, a shadow moving just beyond the glass.

They’re still out there.Watching. Waiting.

My entire body locks up. I need to move.Now.I bite back a sob. I can’t fall apart. Not now.

Move, Willow.

Swallowing down my panic, I start inching backward, my hands shaking as I crawl away from Vincent’s unmoving form. I nearly break down right there. But I can’t—I have to hide.

My fingers clutch the phone in a death grip as I crawl away, my breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. My bare knees scrape against the floor, but I barely feel it over the blood pounding in my ears. The shadows in the room stretch and shift, and every tiny sound—every creak of the walls, every rustle of the wind—sends a bolt of fear down my spine.

I press myself into the narrow space between the couch and the wall, curling in on myself as best as I can. My heart slams against my ribs, the fear suffocating. My hands are still coated in Vincent’s blood, and I clutch them to my chest as if I can somehow keep them from shaking.

With a trembling breath, I bring my phone up and frantically press Cast’s number.

It rings once. Twice.

Pick up. Please, Cast, pick up.

On the third ring, his voice comes through, sharp and alert. “Willow?”

A broken sob rips from my throat at the sound of his voice. “C-Cast,” I choke out, barely able to get the words past my lips. “Vincent—he’s—” My breath shudders, the words tangling in my throat. “Somebody shot him. There’s—there’s someone outside. I don’t know what to do.”

A beat of silence. Then his voice hardens. “Where are you?”

“Living room,” I whisper, pressing myself further against the wall. “I—I’m hiding, but I think they’re still out there.” My whole body trembles, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Cast, I’m scared.”

“Listen to me,” his voice is sharp, commanding, but steady. “Lock every door if you can. Stay low. I will get one of the guards to take you to the hospital.” His words are a lifeline, pulling me from the panic, even if just for a second.

“I can call 911.” I whisper.

“No police.” He snaps. “They can’t get into the safe house. I will get the guard.”

I clutch the phone tighter as Cast barks orders for someone to get the guard at the perimeter of the safe house to come and drive us to the hospital. “Hurry.”

“They will. Stay quiet, sweetheart. Don’t make a sound. But first, I need you to check on Vincent.”

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